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.

"Aunty," said she, as if bewildered, "what time is it?" Her aunt told
her the time.

"And is it possible," said Agnes, "that I have slept so late?" and then
pressing her hands to her head, she said:

"Who said '_condemned_' and '_sentenced_?'"

"No one has said those words to you, dear Agnes," said Mrs. Wharton.

"But oh, aunty!" she exclaimed, seizing Mrs. Wharton's hand, "it is
_true_, is it not? Yes, I know it is. My poor young brother! And here I
have been wasting the time when he wants me so much. I must get up this
moment and go to him."

Her aunt endeavored to persuade her to remain quiet, telling her that
Mr. Malcolm was with Lewie, and that he was not left alone for a moment.
Agnes insisted, however, upon rising, but on making the attempt her head
became dizzy and she sank back again upon her pillow; and this was the
beginning of a brain fever, which kept her confined to her bed in
unconscious delirium for more than three weeks. In her delirium she
seemed to go back to the days of her childhood, and live them over
again with all the trouble they caused her young heart. Sometimes she
fancied herself a lonely prisoner again in the cold north room, and
sometimes pleading with her little brother, and begging him to "be a
good boy, and to try and not be so cross." At one time Dr. Rodney had
little hope of her life, and after that he feared permanent loss of
reason, but in both fears he was disappointed. Agnes recovered at
length, and with her mind as clear as ever.

During the days when she was convalescing, but still too