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!”