At length Agnes was so much better that the doctor consented to her paying her brother a visit. She found him in the condemned cell, but no manacles were necessary to fetter his limbs, for a chain stronger than iron bolts confined him to his bed, and that strong chain was perfect weakness. Though his cell was darker and more dungeon-like, yet through the kindness of friends the sick young prisoner was made as comfortable as possible. By a very strong effort Agnes so far commanded herself as to retain an appearance of outward composure, during that first meeting after so long and so eventful a separation; and now began again the daily ministrations of Agnes at the bed-side of her brother, for in consideration of his feeble condition his sister was permitted to remain with him constantly.
Lewie knew that he was failing; “I think,” said he to Agnes, “that God will call for my spirit before the time comes for man to set it free. But oh! Agnes, if I could once more look upon the green earth, and the blue sky, and breathe the pure fresh air; and die free.”
It was after longings for freedom like these, that when Agnes returned to Dr. Rodney’s one evening, (for ever since the trial, at the earnest request of the kind doctor and his wife, she had made their house her home except when with her brother,) she found her cousin Grace, who often came over to pass the night with her, waiting her arrival with tidings in her face.
“Agnes,” said she, “I have heard something to-day which may possibly cast a ray of hope on Lewie’s case yet.”
“What can it be, dear Grace?” asked Agnes.
“Who do you think the new Governor’s wife is, Agnes?”
“I am sure I cannot imagine.”
“Do you remember that strange girl, Ruth Glenn?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, it is she. Only think how strange! I have no idea how much influence she has with the Governor; but unless she has changed wonderfully in her feelings, she would do anything in the world to serve you, Agnes, as she ought.”