The prisoner was led back to the jail; the jury retired; and it being now evening, the court room was deserted.

XIX.

The Sealed Paper.

   “Sister, thy brother is won by thee.”—­MRS. HEMANS.

The verdict would not be made known till the next morning.  Oh! what a night of mental torture was that to the devoted sister of the prisoner!  The terrible suspense left it out of her power to remain quiet for a moment, but she restlessly paced the room, watching for the dawn of day, and yet dreading the signs of its approach.  Her aunt, who remained with her during that anxious night, endeavored as well as she could to soothe and calm her excited feelings; but how little there was to be said; she could only point her to the Christian’s never-failing trust and confidence; and it was only by constant supplications for strength from on high, as she walked the room, that Agnes was enabled to retain the slightest appearance of composure, or, as it seemed to her, to keep her brain from bursting.

The longest night will have an end, and morning at length dawned on the weary eyes of the watchers.  The family rose and breakfasted early, for an intense excitement reigned throughout the house.  Agnes begged to be allowed to remain in her own room; and though, in compliance with the entreaties of her friends, she endeavored to eat, she could not swallow a morsel.  Mr. Wharton came early; and soon after breakfast, he and Dr. Rodney went out.  At nine o’clock the court were to assemble, to hear the verdict; and from that moment, Agnes seated herself at the window, with her hands pressed on her aching forehead, and her eyes straining to catch the first glimpse of them as they returned.

She sat thus for an hour or more at the window, and at the end of that time the crowds began to pass the house, and she soon caught sight of Dr. Rodney and her uncle.  They did not hasten as if they had joyful news to tell, and as Agnes in her agitation rose as they approached the gate, and watched their faces as they came up the gravel walk, she saw there enough to tell her the whole story; and pressing both hands upon her heart she sat down again, for she had no longer strength to stand.  In a few moments she heard her uncle’s step coming slowly towards her room.  As the door opened very gently she did not raise her head; it had fallen upon her breast, and she was asking for strength to bear what she knew was coming.  When at length she looked towards her uncle she saw him standing with his hand still on the lock, and gazing at her intently.  His face was of an ashy paleness, and he seemed irresolute whether to approach her or to leave the room.

“Uncle,” gasped Agnes, “do not speak now; there is no need; I see it all,” and slowly she fell to the floor and forgot her bitter sorrow in long insensibility.  When she recovered it was nearly mid-day, and only her aunt was sitting by her bedside.