With an appealing, almost a reproachful, glance, she rose from the window; and hurrying across the room as if without knowing where, put her hands before her face, and burst into such tears as smote me to the heart. ¡¡¡¡And yet they awakened something in me, bringing promise to my heart. Without my knowing why, these tears allied themselves with the quietly sad smile which was so fixed in my remembrance, and shook me more with hope than fear or sorrow.
¡¡¡¡'Agnes! Sister! Dearest! What have I done?' ¡¡¡¡'Let me go away, Trotwood. I am not well. I am not myself. I will speak to you by and by - another time. I will write to you. Don't speak to me now. Don't! don't!' ¡¡¡¡I sought to recollect what she had said, when I had spoken to her on that former night, of her affection needing no return. It seemed a very world that I must sea
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