Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 1‘I must be a prisoner for a little while,’ said Agnes, ‘but
here are the old books, Trotwood, and the old music.’
‘Even the old flowers are here,’ said I, looking round; ‘or
the old kinds.’
‘I have found a pleasure,’ returned Agnes, smiling, ‘while
you have been absent, in keeping everything as it used to
be when we were children. For we were very happy then, I
think.’
‘Heaven knows we were!’ said I.
‘And every little thing that has reminded me of my broth-
er,’ said Agnes, with her cordial eyes turned cheerfully upon
me, ‘has been a welcome companion. Even this,’ showing
me the basket-trifle, full of keys, still hanging at her side,
‘seems to jingle a kind of old tune!’
She smiled again, and went out at the door by which she
had come.
It was for me to guard this sisterly affection with re-
ligious care. It was all that I had left myself, and it was a
treasure. If I once shook the foundations of the sacred con-
fidence and usage, in virtue of which it was given to me, it
was lost, and could never be recovered. I set this steadily be-
fore myself. The better I loved her, the more it behoved me
never to forget it.
I walked through the streets; and, once more seeing my
old adversary the butcher - now a constable, with his staff
hanging up in the shop - went down to look at the place
where I had fought him; and there meditated on Miss Shep-
herd and the eldest Miss Larkins, and all the idle loves
and likings, and dislikings, of that time. Nothing seemed