“I owe it to your pure friendship for me, Trotwood⁠—which, indeed, I do not doubt⁠—to tell you, you are mistaken. I can do no more. If I have sometimes, in the course of years, wanted help and counsel, they have come to me. If I have sometimes been unhappy, the feeling has passed away. If I have ever had a burden on my heart, it has been lightened for me. If I have any secret, it is⁠—no new one; and is⁠—not what you suppose. I cannot reveal it, or divide it. It has long been mine, and must remain mine.”

“Agnes! Stay! A moment!”

She was going away, but I detained her. I clasped my arm about her waist. “In the course of years!” “It is not a new one!” New thoughts and hopes were whirling through my mind, and all the colours of my life were changing.