‘If you’ll have the goodness to keep my secret, Master Copperfield,’ he pursued, ‘and not, in general, to go against me, I shall take it as a particular favour. You wouldn’t wish to make unpleasantness.

I know what a friendly heart you’ve got; but having only known me on my umble footing (on my umblest I should say, for I am very umble still), you might, unbeknown, go against me rather, with my Agnes. I call her mine, you see, Master Copperfield. There’s a song that says, “I’d crowns resign, to call her mine!” I hope to do it, one of these days.’

Dear Agnes! So much too loving and too good for anyone that I could think of, was it possible that she was reserved to be the wife of such a wretch as this!