“Poor Agnes! poor dear sister!” said he, as soon as he could speak; “what have I ever been from my childhood up, but a source of trouble and distress to you.  You were punished for my ungoverned temper all through your childhood; you are suffering for it now; you will have to suffer for it more, till your bloom is all gone, and you are worn to a skeleton.  If I had dared, Agnes—­if I had dared, I should have put an end to this mortal existence; and thus I should have saved you all this coming disgrace and misery.  But I had not the courage to lay violent hands upon myself, and go, a deliberate suicide, into the presence of my Maker.  I have tried all other means; I have gone through exposure and fatigue, which at any other time I know would have killed me; I have laid out all night in the rain; I, who used to be so susceptible to cold, but nothing seemed to hurt me.  I have been reserved for other and more terrible things.  And you, Agnes, who are always kind, and forbearing, and self-sacrificing, it seems to be your fate ever to suffer and endure for others.  Oh, my sister, you deserve a happier lot!”

“Don’t talk so, dear Lewie!” said Agnes; “you have given me very many happy hours, and all the little troubles of ‘long, long ago’ are forgotten.  And now, what greater pleasure can I have than that of sitting with you here, working and reading, and trying to wile away the tedious hours of your captivity?”

“Agnes! this must not be!  I cannot allow it.  It will brighten the whole day for me, if you will come and spend an hour or two with me every morning; but I cannot consent that you shall be immured for the whole day in the walls of this gloomy prison-house.”

“But what can you do, Lewie?  I am going to be obstinate for once, and take my own course.  Uncle will drive me over every morning, and come for me at night; and I am going to enjoy a pleasure long denied me, of spending every day with my darling brother.”

“Oh, Agnes! this is too, too much!”

“Not too much at all, Lewie.  Do you think I could be happy anywhere else than with you?  What should I do at uncle’s but roam the house, restless and impatient, every moment I am absent from you?  And the nights will seem so long, because they separate me from you!”

“Oh! how utterly undeserving!—­how utterly undeserving such love and devotion!” said Lewie, pacing up and down the room.  “Sweet sister!—­dearest Agnes!—­now has my prison lost all its gloom; and were it not for the future, I might be happier here than when out in the world; for temptation here is far from me, and only good influences surround me.”

“And what of the future, dear?”

“Of my trial, Agnes?  Well, I hardly know what to say.  My friends and lawyers try to keep up my spirits, and mention to me many hopeful things; and, for the time, I too feel encouraged.  But I can think of many things that a skilful lawyer can bring up against me, and which would weigh very heavily.  I am trying to think of the worst as a probability; so that if it comes, I shall not be overwhelmed.”