fostered them, and taken advantage of them, until--to say
all that I mean in a word, Trotwood,--until papa is afraid of him.'

There was more that she might have said; more that she knew, or that she
suspected; I clearly saw. I could not give her pain by asking what it
was, for I knew that she withheld it from me, to spare her father. It
had long been going on to this, I was sensible: yes, I could not but
feel, on the least reflection, that it had been going on to this for a
long time. I remained silent.

'His ascendancy over papa,' said Agnes, 'is very great. He professes
humility and gratitude--with truth, perhaps: I hope so--but his position
is really one of power, and I fear he makes a hard use of his power.'

I said he was a hound, which, at the moment, was a great satisfaction to
me.

'At the time I speak of, as the time when papa spoke to me,' pursued
Agnes, 'he had told papa that he was going away; that he was very sorry,
and unwilling to leave, but that he had better prospects. Papa was very
much depressed then, and more bowed down by care than ever you or I have
seen him; but he seemed relieved by this expedient of the partnership,
though at the same time he seemed hurt by it and ashamed of it.'

'And how did you receive it, Agnes?'

'I did, Trotwood,' she replied, 'what I hope was right. Feeling sure
that it was necessary for papa's peace that the sacrifice should be
made, I entreated him to make it. I said it would lighten the load
of his life--I hope it will!--and that it would give me increased
opportunities of being his companion. Oh, Trotwood!' cried Agnes,
putting her hands before her face, as her tears started on it, 'I almost
feel as if I had been papa's enemy, instead of his loving child. For
I know how he has altered, in his devotion to me. I know how he has
narrowed the circle of his sympathies and duties, in the concentration
of his whole mind upon me. I know what a multitude of things he has shut
out for my sake, and how his anxious thoughts of me have shadowed his
life, and weakened his strength and energy, by turning them always upon
one idea. If I could ever set this right! If I could ever work out his
restoration, as I have so innocently been the cause of his decline!'

I had never before seen Agnes cry. I had seen tears in her eyes when I
had brought new honours home from school, and I had seen them there when
we last spoke about her father, and I had seen her turn her gentle head
as