‘You will be going early in the morning, Trotwood! Let us say good-bye, now!’

She had been weeping, but her face then was so calm and beautiful!

‘Heaven bless you!’ she said, giving me her hand.

‘Dearest Agnes!’ I returned, ‘I see you ask me not to speak of tonight — but is there nothing to be done?’

‘There is God to trust in!’ she replied.

‘Can I do nothing — I, who come to you with my poor sorrows?’

‘And make mine so much lighter,’ she replied. ‘Dear Trotwood, no!’

‘Dear Agnes,’ I said, ‘it is presumptuous for me, who am so poor in all in which you are so rich —