I love little Em'ly, and I don't love Agnes--no, not at all in that way--but I feel that there are goodness, peace, and truth, wherever Agnes is; and that the soft light of the coloured window in the church, seen long ago, falls on her always, and on me when I am near her, and on everything around.
The time having come for her withdrawal for the night, and she having left us, I gave Mr.Wickfield my hand, preparatory to going away myself.
But he checked me and said: 'Should you like to stay with us, Trotwood, or to go elsewhere ?' 'To stay,' I answered, quickly.
'You are sure ?' 'If you please.

If I may!' 'Why, it's but a dull life that we lead here, boy, I am afraid,' he said.
'Not more dull for me than Agnes, sir.

Not dull at all!' 'Than Agnes,' he repeated, walking slowly to the great chimney-piece, and leaning against it.

'Than Agnes!' He had drank wine that evening (or I fancied it), until his eyes were bloodshot.

Not that I could see them now, for they were cast down, and shaded by his hand; but I had noticed them a little while before.
'Now I wonder,' he muttered, 'whether my Agnes tires of me.