Agnes Wickfield

“ And the little girl I saw on that first day at Mr. Wickfield's, where is she? Gone also. In her stead, the perfect likeness of the picture, a child's likeness no more, moves about the house; and Agnes, my sweet sister, as I call her in my thoughts, my counsellor and friend, the better angel of the lives of all who come within her calm, good, self-denying influence--is quite a woman. ”

“ At length he aroused himself, and looked about the room until his eyes encountered mine.
‘Stay with us, Trotwood, eh?’ he said in his usual manner, and as if he were answering something I had just said. ‘I am glad of it. You are company to us both. It is wholesome to have you here. Wholesome for me, wholesome for Agnes, wholesome perhaps for all of us.’
‘I am sure it is for me, sir,’ I said. ‘I am so glad to be here.’
‘That’s a fine fellow!’ said Mr. Wickfield. ”

“ When there was nothing more to be got out of me about myself (for on the Murdstone and Grinby life, and on my journey, I was dumb) , they began about Mr. Wickfield and Agnes. Uriah threw the ball to Mrs. Heep, Mrs. Heep caught it and threw it back to Uriah, Uriah kept it up a little while, then sent it back to Mrs. Heep, and so they went on tossing it about until I had no idea who had got it, and was quite bewildered. The ball itself was always changing too. Now it was Mr. Wickfield, now Agnes, now the excellence of Mr. Wickfield, now my admiration of Agnes ”

“ The Doctor was very fond of music. Agnes sang with great sweetness and expression, and so did Mrs. Strong. They sang together, and played duets together, and we had quite a little concert. But I remarked two things: first, that though Annie soon recovered her composure, and was quite herself, there was a blank between her and Mr. Wickfield which separated them wholly from each other; secondly, that Mr. Wickfield seemed to dislike the intimacy between her and Agnes, and to watch it with uneasiness. ”

“ The tranquillity and peace belonging, of old, to that quiet ground in my memory, pervaded it again. When dinner was done, Mr. Wickfield taking no wine, and I desiring none, we went up stairs; where Agnes and her little charges sang and played, and worked. After tea the children left us; and we three sat together, talking of the by-gone days.
"My part in them," said Mr. Wickfield, shaking his white head, "has much matter for regret—for deep regret, and deep contrition, Trotwood, you well know. ”

“ Her papa was with her—and Uriah Heep.
“And now they are partners,” said I. “Confound him!”
“Yes,” said Agnes. “They have some business here; and I took advantage of their coming, to come too. You must not think my visit all friendly and disinterested, Trotwood, for—I am afraid I may be cruelly prejudiced—I do not like to let papa go away alone, with him.”
“Does he exercise the same influence over Mr. Wickfield still, Agnes?”
Agnes shook her head. “There is such a change at home,” said she, “that you would scarcely know the dear old house. They live with us now.” ”

“ Wickfield’s home and in Doctor Strong’s school he had ideal conditions of development. He received respectful consideration, fatherly interest, wise counsel, and generous hospitality from Mr. Wickfield. With Agnes he had the most delightful relationship of sympathetic and stimulating friendship. There is no better influence in the life of a boy opening into young manhood than the true friendship of a girl of the character of Agnes.
In Doctor Strong’s school David met with the best conditions of good training yet revealed by the “new education.” ”

“ Mr. Wickfield tapped at a door in a corner of the panelled wall, and a girl of about my own age came quickly out and kissed him. On her face, I saw immediately the placid and sweet expression of the lady whose picture had looked at me downstairs. It seemed to my imagination as if the portrait had grown womanly, and the original remained a child. Although her face was quite bright and happy, there was a tranquillity about it, and about her—a quiet, good, calm spirit—that I never have forgotten; that I shall never forget. This was his little housekeeper, his daughter Agnes, Mr. Wickfield said. ”

“ Him! Such an old friend! Bless your soul, when I was nothing but a clerk in his office, Copperfield, I’ve seen him twenty times, if I’ve seen him once, quite in a taking about it—quite put out, you know (and very proper in him as a father; I’m sure I can’t blame him) , to think that Miss Agnes was mixing herself up with what oughtn’t to be.”
“My dear Strong,” said Mr. Wickfield in a tremulous voice, “my good friend, I needn’t tell you that it has been my vice to look for some one master motive in everybody, and to try all actions by one narrow test. ”

“ I told her yes, because it was so like herself.
‘Papa says so, too,’ said Agnes, pleased. ‘Hark! That’s papa now!’
Her bright calm face lighted up with pleasure as she went to meet him, and as they came in, hand in hand. He greeted me cordially; and told me I should certainly be happy under Doctor Strong, who was one of the gentlest of men.
‘There may be some, perhaps—I don’t know that there are—who abuse his kindness,’ said Mr. Wickfield. ‘Never be one of those, Trotwood, in anything. He is the least suspicious of mankind ”

“ Wickfield might now wind up his business, and his agency-trust, and exhibit no deficiency or defalcation whatever."
"Oh, thank Heaven!" cried Agnes, fervently.
"But," said Traddles, "the surplus that would be left as his means of support—and I suppose the house to be sold, even in saying this—would be so small, not exceeding in all probability some hundreds of pounds, that perhaps, Miss Wickfield, it would be best to consider whether he might not retain his agency of the estate to which he has so long been receiver. His friends might advise him, you know; now he is free. ”

“ My aunt was as happy as I was, in the arrangement made for me; and we went down to the drawing-room again, well pleased and gratified. As she would not hear of staying to dinner, lest she should by any chance fail to arrive at home with the grey pony before dark; and as I apprehend Mr. Wickfield knew her too well, to argue any point with her; some lunch was provided for her there, and Agnes went back to her governess, and Mr. Wickfield to his office. ”

“ We are not likely to meet often, for some time to come; but I shall be a good correspondent of Dora’s, and we shall frequently hear of one another that way.”
We were now within the little court-yard of the Doctor’s cottage. It was growing late. There was a light in the window of Mrs. Strong’s chamber, and Agnes, pointing to it, bade me good night.
“Do not be troubled,” she said, giving me her hand, “by our misfortunes and anxieties. I can be happier in nothing than in your happiness. If you can ever give me help, rely upon it I will ask you for it. God bless you always!” ”

“ Agnes asked me, as I was standing by.
"What does my sister say to that?"
"I hope not."
"Then I have no such intention, Agnes."
"I think you ought not, Trotwood, since you ask me," she said, mildly. "Your growing reputation and success enlarge your power of doing good; and if I could spare my brother," with her eyes upon me, "perhaps the time could not."
"What I am, you have made me, Agnes. You should know best."
"I made you, Trotwood?"
"Yes! Agnes, my dear girl!" I said, bending over her. "I tried to tell you, when we met to-day, something that has been in my thoughts since Dora died. ”

“ Heep, you know. And so,” said Agnes quietly, “I feel obliged to bear her company, when I might prefer to be alone. But I have no other reason to complain of her. If she tires me, sometimes, by her praises of her son, it is only natural in a mother. He is a very good son to her.”
I looked at Agnes when she said these words, without detecting in her any consciousness of Uriah’s design. ”

“ Her color came and went once more; and once more, as she bent her head, I saw the same sad smile.
"You will wait and see papa," said Agnes, cheerfully, "and pass the day with us? Perhaps you will sleep in your own room? We always call it yours."
I could not do that, having promised to ride back to my aunt's, at night; but I would pass the day there, joyfully.
"I must be a prisoner for a little while," said Agnes, "but here are the old books, Trotwood, and the old music." ”

“ Dear Agnes!"
She had put her hand entreatingiy on his arm, to stop him; and was very, very, pale.
"Well, well!" he said with a sigh, dismissing, as I then saw, some trial she had borne, or was yet to bear, in connexion with what my aunt had told me. "Well! I have never told you, Trotwood, of her mother. Has any one?"
"Never, sir."
"It's not much—though it was much to suffer. She married me in opposition to her father's wish, and he renounced her. She prayed him to forgive her, before my Agnes came into this world. He was a very hard man, and her mother had long been dead. He repulsed her. ”

“ The packet was in my hand. I opened it, and read the writing of Agnes.
She was happy and useful, was prospering as she had hoped. That was all she told me of herself. The rest referred to me.
She gave me no advice; she urged no duty on me; she only told me, in her own fervent manner, what her trust in me was. She knew (she said) how such a nature as mine would turn affliction to good. She knew how trial and emotion would exalt and strengthen it. She was sure that in my every purpose I should gain a firmer and a higher tendency, through the grief I had undergone. ”

“ As difficult as to eradicate insanity from a mind once possessed, so difficult it is to erase from the lover’s breast the deep impression of a real affection. Coercion may prevail for a short interval, still love will rage again. Not all the ignominy which Agnes experienced in the place where she now was without a home—not the hunger which she at times suffered, and even at times saw her child endure—not every inducement for going to London, or motive for quitting her present desolate station, had the weight to affect her choice so much as—in London, she should live nearer William ”

“ I glanced at the serene face looking upward, and thought it was the stars that made it seem so noble.
"There has been no change at home," said Agnes, after a few moments.
"No fresh reference," said I, "to—I wouldn't distress you, Agnes, but I cannot help asking—to what we spoke of, when we parted last?"
"No, none," she answered.
"I have thought so much about it."
"You must think less about it. Remember that I confide in simple love and truth at last. Have no apprehensions for me, Trotwood," she added, after a moment; "the step you dread my taking, I shall never take." ”

“ You may fancy that Agnes required no urging in such a case, and she went with me at once on this errand of mercy. We found the mother and her child in a small badly-furnished room in one of the poorest parts of Manchester. Since her husband's death she had done a little dressmaking, and so kept her child and herself from starvation. Notwithstanding the ravages of disease, she was still a beautiful woman; and as she told Agnes her story, the mystery of sorrow bravely borne, and apparently meaningless as far as this life was concerned, affected her listener deeply. ”

“ Agnes laughed again at her own penetration, and told me that if I were faithful to her in my confidence she thought she should keep a little register of my violent attachments, with the date, duration, and termination of each, like the table of the reigns of the kings and queens, in the History of England. Then she asked me if I had seen Uriah.
"Uriah Heep?" said I. "No. Is he in London?"
"He comes to the office down-stairs, every day," returned Agnes. "He was in London a week before me. I am afraid on disagreeable business, Trotwood." ”

“ Upon this day of ringing and rejoicing the bells were not muffled, nor was conversation on the subject withheld from the ear of Agnes! She heard like her neighbours; and sitting on the side of her bed in her little chamber, suffered, under the cottage roof, as much affliction as ever visited a palace.
Tyrants, who have embrued their hands in the blood of myriads of their fellow-creatures, can call their murders “religion, justice, attention to the good of mankind.” Poor Agnes knew no sophistry to calm her sense of guilt: she felt herself a harlot and a murderer ”

“ She is supposed to be very weak and ineffectual, but she has about a hundred times more personal character than all Dickens’s waxwork heroines put together, the unendurable Agnes by no means excluded. It almost passes comprehension how a man who could conceive such a character should so insult it, as Dickens does, in making Dora recommend her husband’s second marriage with Agnes. ”

“ Don’t you think he would rather have his favourite old pupil near him, than anybody else?’
‘Dear Agnes!’ said I. ‘What should I do without you! You are always my good angel. I told you so. I never think of you in any other light.’
Agnes answered with her pleasant laugh, that one good Angel (meaning Dora) was enough; and went on to remind me that the Doctor had been used to occupy himself in his study, early in the morning, and in the evening—and that probably my leisure would suit his requirements very well. ”

“ How could I, when, blended with it all, was her dear self, the better angel of my life?
"And you, Agnes," I said, by and by. "Tell me of yourself. You have hardly ever told me of your own life, in all this lapse of time!"
"What should I tell?" she answered, with her radiant smile. "Papa is well. ”