Lewie; Or, The Bended Twig

by Sarah H. Bradford

“Why did you act so strangely then, Miss Glenn?” asked Agnes, “were you asleep?”

“I don’t know; I cannot tell; don’t ask me;” was all they could get from Miss Glenn, who continued to weep and wring her hands.

Though apparently very poor, Miss Glenn possessed some few rare and curious things, which she said her father, who had been a sea-captain, had brought her from other countries, and by means of some of these, she succeeded in securing the silence of the little girls. Grace and Effie were easily induced by the remonstrances of Agnes, and partly by pity for Miss Glenn’s evident distress, to promise not to betray her. None of the occupants of that room felt fit for study that day, except Miss Glenn. She sat alone, as usual, and studied as perseveringly as ever. This was only the beginning of a series of nocturnal performances, continued almost every night, with every morning a repetition of the same scene of begging and remonstrance with her room-mates, to persuade them not to betray her to Mrs. Arlington. Sometimes, as Miss Glenn was quietly leaving her bed, Agnes would wake and follow her, determined to see what she would do, and to prevent, if possible, her waking the other girls. At times she would seat herself upon a chest in one corner of the room, and commence a conversation with some imaginary individual near her; then she would move silently round the room, and sitting down in some other part of it, would talk again, as if in conversation with some lady next her. Then she would open the window very quietly, and look up, and down, and around, talking all the time in a low tone, but in a much more lively and animated manner than was usual with her in the day-time. She would sometimes cross over to the bed where Grace and Effie Wharton were sleeping, but just as she was about laying her hand on one of them, Agnes would touch her, and ask her what she meant by wandering about so night after night, and tell her to come directly back to bed.

“Oh,” Miss Glenn would answer quietly, “I have only been talking to the ladies, and holding a little conversation with the moon and stars—don’t mind me—go to bed—I will come.”

But Agnes would answer resolutely,

“No, Miss Glenn, I will not leave you to frighten the girls again; you must come back to bed with me, and let me hold your hand tightly in mine.” And Miss Glenn would obey immediately.

When the moon was shining brightly into the room, these performances of Miss Glenn’s were only annoying, but when the nights were very dark, and nothing could be seen in the room, it was really horrible to hear this strange girl chattering and mumbling, now in one corner, now in another, sometimes in the closet, sometimes under the beds; and one night, in a fearful thunder-storm, she seemed to be terribly excited, and when the lightning flashed upon the walls, the shadow of her figure could be seen strangely exaggerated, performing all manner of wild antics.

This conduct of Miss Glenn’s puzzled Agnes exceedingly: she could not decide in her own mind whether the girl was trying to frighten them, whether she was asleep, or whether she had turns of derangement at night. Neither of these suppositions seemed exactly to account for her singular actions. Her evident, and, Agnes doubted not, real distress, at the possibility of Mrs. Arlington being informed of her nocturnal performances, and the sacrifices of every kind that she was willing to make to ensure silence, convinced Agnes that it was not done merely to alarm them; her vivid remembrance of all that she had said or done in the night, and her answering questions, and coming to bed so readily when addressed by Agnes, without any appearance of waking up, led her to suppose it was not somnambulism; and as Miss Glenn never showed any sign of wandering of mind in the day time, Agnes could not suppose it to be derangement. Miss Glenn was a perfect enigma; night after night disturbing her room-mates with her strange performances, and every morning going over the same scene of earnest expostulation and entreaty, accompanied by violent weeping, to induce them not to betray her to Mrs. Arlington. Poor little Carrie and Ella kept the secret bravely, though, on the night of the thunder-storm, they were so terrified by Miss Glenn’s conduct, that, wrapping themselves in the bed-blankets, and persuading Agnes to lock the door after them, they went out, and sat upon the stairs till morning. The very next day, two sisters who slept in another room received tidings of the death of their mother, which hurried them home; and as they were not to return that quarter, little Carrie and Ella, with Agnes to intercede for them, requested to be allowed to take their vacated place. Mrs. Arlington readily acquiesced, as, she said, it would be much better to have four in each room.

Thus things went on, till, one night, Agnes was horror-stricken to find that Miss Glenn was endeavoring to climb out of the window. As I have said, they were in the third story of the building; and the distance to the ground being very great, the unfortunate girl would inevitably have been dashed to pieces upon the flag stones below, had not Agnes suddenly caught her, and, with a strength that astonished herself, succeeded in drawing her back into the room.

The terror and agitation into which Agnes was thrown by this circumstance determined her to do something decisive the very next day; she was now convinced that it was her duty, and resolved to do it, in spite of Miss Glenn’s tears and persuasions. She thought it right, however, in the first place, to acquaint Miss Glenn with her determination, and began by informing her, when they were alone the next morning, of the imminent danger from which she had been so fortunate as to save her in the night. Ruth Glenn seemed to remember it all, and shuddered as she thought of it.