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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Jane," she exclaimed, clasping her in her arms, and kissing her smiling lips, for she smiled while uttering the last words, "oh, Jane, don't, don't, my darling, or you will break my heart your own Agnes's heart, whom you loved so well, and whose happiness or misery is bound I up in yours."
And" added the affectionate girl, now overcome by her feelings, laying her calm sister's head at the same time upon her bosom, "and when those locks so brown and rich that your Agnes's hands have so often dressed, will be mouldering in the grave, and that face oh, the seal of death is upon your pale, pale cheek, my sister! my sister!"
It is a fatal thing it is a fatal thing! but he is very, very beautiful!" "Jane," said Maria, taking her hand from Agnes's, "Jane, speak to Maria, dear. Am not I, too, your own Maria? that loves you not less than my darling, darling child they do not live that love you better than your own Maria; in pity, darling, in pity speak to me!"
Denham's words had thrilled his soul; had presented Agnes's image to him so vividly, that he could scarcely refrain from giving expression to his anguish in bitter groans; and this was the most trying remembrance, "it might have been" otherwise, had he, to whose care she had been solemnly committed by dying parents, faithfully fulfilled his trust, and instead of frowning on her, had cheered and encouraged her in the path of duty.
The worry he felt regarding Agnes's perilous position told on an already weakened frame, and the invalid grew worse instead of better. Finally, Lambert decided to risk a journey to the camp, which was not so very far distant, and interview Mother Cockleshell. The old lady had no great love for Chaldea, who flouted her authority, and would not, therefore, be very kindly disposed towards the girl.
Something graceful and wistful together seemed to be in his bearing and countenance. "Anything for me?" asked Agnes. "Nothing at all, mum! When there's nobody by to do a job, call on Mike." He still seemed to tarry, and in Agnes's nervous condition a mysterious awe came over her; the man's gaze had a dread fascination that would not let her drop her eyes.
"Oh! we'll be quite happy together," said Irene, with a careless nod; and then she went up to her room, opened the door gently, shut it quietly behind her, and shading the candle with one hand, went over to little Agnes's bed. There was no Agnes there. But a huge hedgehog had curled itself up in a ball close to the pillow where the little delicate head had been pressed.
I tried to catch a glimpse of Miss Agnes's countenance, it was some time before she lifted her veil, but when she flung it aside, as she took off her bonnet, I saw that her former paleness had been succeeded by a rosy-red, and her eyes seemed beaming with new life. "We sat and talked for some time, at least Mr. Bernard and I, for Miss Wiltshire was unusually silent.
"Agnes has been here, Cousin Ben, and Celia wants to ask you something. Come into the library, please." He followed her in and the subject was opened to him of the little fairy play. He shook his head. "Can't promise. That's a good deal to spring on a fellow unbeknownst. I'll have to think about it." "But can't you go over to Agnes's this evening to talk it over?" asked Celia.
An awed silence greeted these words. Never was the interest of a crowd more intense or its passions held in greater restraint. Yet Agnes's tears flowed freely, and Amabel's smiles well, their expression had changed; and to Sweetwater, who alone had eyes for her now, they were surcharged with a tragic meaning, strange to see in one of her callous nature.
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