Agnes Grey

“ Agnes' life was one as yet all holiday enjoyment—her heart bounding with delight at the prospect of an establishment in her beautiful country home—in her own dear neighbourhood.
"There was no sorrow in her note"—and Mary perceived and rejoiced in the conviction that her younger sister's happiness needed no additional weight. Next to being happy herself, she desired most the power of bestowing happiness on others, and a real pleasure she knew would be her presence to that excellent elder sister. She would seek in some degree to aid and lighten her cares and avocations. ”

“ A dawn in June: the dawn of a night that has held no real blackness, but merged from a sky of sapphire to one of grey pearl—sapphire so starlit, that ever deeper deeps and ever bluer transparencies seemed to unveil themselves to the watchers eye; grey pearl pulsing into opal, shot with milky pinks, faint greens, ambers and primroses.
Into the dewy morning world came Ellinor; down through the long stone passages that still held night and silence; out into this awakening, this freshness, this lightsomeness. ”

“ The wonders of the summer dawn, day after day, bring to the old Earth, as it were, a new creation. She awakes and finds the forgotten paradise from which man, of his own sluggard choice, shuts himself out with gates of darkness and leaden bolts of sleep.
Ellinor, her fair face emerging from the folds of her dark, grey-hooded cloak, came pearl-like as the young day itself from the folds of the night. ”

“ My Lady Lochore arrived towards that falling hour of the day when the shadows are growing long and soft, when the slanting light is amber: it might be called the coloured hour, for the sun begins to veil its splendour, so that eyes, undazzled, may rejoice. The swallows were dipping across the sward of golden-emerald and Bindon stood proudly golden-grey in the light, silver-grey in the shadows and against the blue. ”

“ It is not time that ravages, it is not time that draws the wrinkle seared into the heart; not to time do we owe the spread of the grey, instead of the gold that used to colour the web of existence. A man may carry the singing soul of his April to the death-bed of his old body. ”

“ Why she ran, she knew not, but something drove her with a mighty urgency. Her heart beat thickly, and her breath came short, though as a rule there was no maid in the countryside that could run as she did. When she came to the foot of the hill, she paused, and there, by the bramble brake, where the firwood began, she saw, lying on the lip of the baby stream, a gauntleted grey glove. She turned into the wood.
The pine needles were soft under her feet. The pine stems grew like the pillars of a church aisle, and the air was sweeter with their fragrance than any incense that was ever burned. ”

“ In vain, Ross called a council, and went from lodge to lodge, and urged, and ordered, and pleaded, and bribed. Not a man but Old Pierre, the Iroquois, would go to work to clear the road.
The nights were spent in gambling, the days in grumbling; and old Cadiac, a Half-breed, had made himself an Indian drum or tom-tom of buffalo skin stretched on bare hoops. John Grey, the rebel, had uncased his fiddle and was filing away all night to the Red River jig and native dances of Indian pow-wow. Ross proposed the camp should give a concert. A concert meant that a dram of liquor would go the rounds. ”

“ She certainly looked very charming as she strolled, lingering along under the budding horse-chestnut trees that stretched their long arms over the park-palings; with her closed book in one hand, and in the other a graceful sprig of myrtle, which served her as a very pretty plaything; her bright ringlets escaping profusely from her little bonnet, and gently stirred by the breeze, her fair cheek flushed with gratified vanity, her smiling blue eyes, now slyly glancing towards her admirer, now gazing downward at her myrtle sprig. ”

“ At that moment my father entered and the subject of our discussion was explained to him.
“What, my little Agnes a governess!” cried he, and, in spite of his dejection, he laughed at the idea.
“Yes, papa, don’t you say anything against it: I should like it so much; and I am sure I could manage delightfully.”
“But, my darling, we could not spare you.” And a tear glistened in his eye as he added—“No, no! afflicted as we are, surely we are not brought to that pass yet.”
“Oh, no!” said my mother. “There is no necessity whatever for such a step; it is merely a whim of her own. ”

“ As he walks up and down in the gold-and-purple evening twilight, his mind seems to him calm as that glowing sea that reflects the purple shores of Ischia, and the quaint, fantastic grottoes and cliffs of Capri. All is golden and glowing; he sees all clear; he is delivered from his spiritual enemies; he treads them under his feet.
Yes, he says to himself, he loves Agnes,—loves her all-sacredly as her guardian angel does, who ever beholdeth the face of her Father in Heaven. ”

“ And the big tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her face.
"My pretty, my pretty, do not weep," said Patience, and she put her arm round the girl's waist and drew her upon her lap. "You must mind what I am going to say to you, Agnes," she continued. "You are not like other girls, and you must be circumspect. You have no one to defend you from evil tongues, no one to lift you up if you were to fall; you are alone. The queen loved your mother; your father died for her husband, and so she harbours you; but she may not always do so. ”

“ Agnes, Agnes! I cannot hear you—"
"Pshaw!" interrupted the younger sister, very bitterly, "this affectation of sentiment and disinterestedness sits very prettily on the heiress of Ditton-in-the-Dale, Long Netherby, and Waltham Ferrers, three manors, and ten thousand pounds a year to buy a bridegroom! Poor I, with my face for my fortune, must needs make my wit eke out my want of dowry. And I'm not one, I promise you, siss, to choose love in a cottage. No, no! Give me your Lord St. George, and I'll make over all my right and title to poor George Delawarr this minute. ”

“ Each moment increased her anxiety and alarm. One hour--two, went by. Again she saw some one coming, and again was disappointed, and the long-repressed tears rose in her eyes, the sobs with which she could struggle no longer burst from her lips.
"Agnes, Agnes my child, come hither," cried Madame De Brecy; and rising from her seat, Agnes cast herself upon her knees beside Jean Charost's mother, and hid her streaming eyes upon her lap.
"What is it, my dear Agnes?" asked Madame De Brecy, much moved. "Tell me, my child; what agitates you thus? Tell me your feelings--all your feelings, my Agnes. ”

“ Somehow the child felt as if that singing were strangely sacred to her,—a rapport between her and something vague and invisible, which might yet become dear.
"Is't down in the gorge?" said the old woman, coming with her heavy, decided step to the parapet, and looking over, her keen black eyes gleaming like dagger-blades info the mist. "If there's anybody there," she said, "let them go away, and not be troubling honest women with any of their caterwauling. Come, Agnes," she said, pulling the girl by the sleeve, "you must be tired, my lamb! ”

“ And he mistook the joy he felt at the prospect of seeing Agnes again in a few moments for the satisfaction of doing his duty in going to save her. All the sweet scent of the grass, all the tender radiance of the moon bathed and purified his soul, and the healing dew fell upon it even through his clothes of deathlike black.
Agnes, little mistress! In truth, she was little, weak as a child, and she was all alone, without father or mother, living in that labyrinth of stone, her dark house under the ridge. ”

“ She would spend with her sister-in-law, in the coming time, one week in the year; that was all that was mortally possible. It was a blessing that one could see exactly what she was, for in that way the question settled itself. It would have been much more tiresome if Agnes had been a little less obvious; then she would have had to hesitate and consider and weigh one thing against another. ”

“ One word from you would have saved us hours of pain."
"You are trembling now," said Jean Charost, still holding her hand. "What would you do, dear Agnes, if you were a soldier's wife?"
"Your mother asked me the same," answered Agnes, with a faint smile, "and I told her I did not know. I can but make you the same answer, Jean. I suppose all a woman can do is to love and tremble."
"And could you love a soldier?" asked De Brecy, in a very earnest tone. ”

“ There was a great sadness in her voice as Sister Mary asked this, just as though, years agone, when her own face was young and pretty, and her own heart happy and free, she had been loved and had lost her love in the grave.
"No, Sister, nothing more of this world. Come, Death, O come," said Agnes, as she was seized with a paroxysm of pain.
"In God's good time, Agnes, dear," suggested the Sister.
"Yes, yes, in His good time, Agnes!" repeated the dying girl, as though chiding herself for her impatience to be gone; "the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." ”

“ I bear his highness letters from his cousin the young Duke of Orleans, and several other gentlemen of high repute. Let us hope then, my mother, at least till hope proves vain. Here will I rest to-night, and speed onward again to-morrow. Perhaps I may lose my labor, and have to travel back--to England and to captivity."
"Then we will go with you, Jean," said Madame De Brecy. "You shall stay no more alone in a prison."
"Yes, yes, let us go with you," cried Agnes, eagerly, drowning Jean Charost's reply. "We can all be as happy there as here. ”

“ Everyone who knows you, consults with you, and is guided by you, Agnes.’
‘Everyone who knows me, spoils me, I believe,’ she answered, smiling.
‘No. It’s because you are like no one else. You are so good, and so sweet-tempered. You have such a gentle nature, and you are always right.’
‘You talk,’ said Agnes, breaking into a pleasant laugh, as she sat at work, ‘as if I were the late Miss Larkins.’
‘Come! It’s not fair to abuse my confidence,’ I answered, reddening at the recollection of my blue enslaver. ‘But I shall confide in you, just the same, Agnes. I can never grow out of that. ”

“ I am, indeed, in strait and need, Agnes; the sun does not shine on a more desolate man than I am,—one more utterly alone in the world; there is no one left to love me. Agnes, can you not love me a little?—let it be ever so little, it shall content me. ”

“ There was magic in the warm eager pressure of her hand, for instantly Harkness appeared to gain his full senses.
"Agnes! Agnes! have you found me? Thank God for this. I am so glad to see you before I die. It takes the thorn out of my pillow, and puts felicity into my heart to see you again. I know by this you have forgiven me."
"Hush, George, there's nothing to forgive. Do not talk, you are too sick. I have come to nurse you. And, with God's help, you shall soon be well again. With God's help—there, dear, you are all the world to me!" ”

“ Call France around you. March against the enemy--fight--fight--and, if need be, die! I will go with you--die with you, if it must be so. There is nothing for me but you and France on earth. God pardon us that it is so; but I have given, and you have taken from me all else."
Charles shook his head mournfully; and Agnes rose slowly from her knees, and drew a step back. "Then pardon me, my lord," she said, "if I retire from your royal court to that of his highness the Duke of Bedford. It was predicted to me long ago, by a learned astrologer, that I should belong to the greatest prince of my time. ”

“ Agnes was attired in snowy white; a few rose-buds forming her only ornament; her face was lit up with a joyous smile, as she greeted one after another of her old companions; and there was something in the expression of that countenance, a blending of the highest and loftiest emotions, with all the social tenderness in which woman finds her chief earthly happiness, so irresistibly attractive, that he who could turn away coldly or unmoved, must indeed be a cynic, if not the veriest stoic that ever trod our beautiful earth. ”

“ All that is fine talk, brother; but I never found that the angels attended to any of my affairs, unless I looked after them pretty sharp myself; and as for girls, the dear Lord knows they need a legion apiece to look after them. What with roystering fellows and smooth-tongued gallants, and with silly, empty-headed hussies like that Giulietta, one has much ado to keep the best of them straight. Agnes is one of the best, too,—a well-brought up, pious, obedient girl, and industrious as a bee. Happy is the husband who gets her. I would I knew a man good enough for her. ”

“ Is the Holy Ghost indeed alone dispensed through the medium of Alexander and his scarlet crew of cardinals? Hath the power to bind and loose in Christ's Church been indeed given to whoever can buy it with the wages of robbery and oppression? Why does every prayer and pious word of the faithful reproach me? Why is God silent? Or is there any God? Oh, Agnes, Agnes! dear lily! fair lamb! lead a sinner into the green pastures where thou restest!"
So wrestled the strong nature, tempest-tossed in its strength,—so slept the trustful, blessed in its trust,—then in Italy, as now in all lands. ”

“ By the skill and by the zeal of one I may venture to call your friend as well as mine--noble Jacques Cœur--the means which have been so long wanting to make at least one generous effort on behalf of France, are now secured. Speak, De Brecy--speak, and tell her majesty the joyful news you bear."
The young gentleman told his tale simply and well; and when he had concluded, the queen, with all traces of sorrow passed away, exclaimed, "Let us hasten quick, dear Agnes, and carry the news to my husband! There be some men fitted for prosperity, and he is one. Misfortune depresses him ”