a great vulture: gorging
himself on every syllable that I said to Agnes, or Agnes said to me.

In the state of trouble into which his disclosure by my fire had thrown
me, I had thought very much of the words Agnes had used in reference to
the partnership. 'I did 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.' A miserable foreboding that she would
yield to, and sustain herself by, the same feeling in reference to any
sacrifice for his sake, had oppressed me ever since. I knew how she
loved him. I knew what the devotion of her nature was. I knew from her
own lips that she regarded herself as the innocent cause of his errors,
and as owing him a great debt she ardently desired to pay. I had no
consolation in seeing how different she was from this detestable Rufus
with the mulberry-coloured great-coat, for I felt that in the very
difference between them, in the self-denial of her pure soul and the
sordid baseness of his, the greatest danger lay. All this, doubtless, he
knew thoroughly, and had, in his cunning, considered well.

Yet I was so certain that the prospect of such a sacrifice afar off,
must destroy the happiness of Agnes; and I was so sure, from her manner,
of its being unseen by her then, and having cast no shadow on her yet;
that I could as soon have injured her, as given her any warning of what
impended. Thus it was that we parted without explanation: she waving
her hand and smiling farewell from the coach window; her evil genius
writhing on the roof, as if he had her in his clutches and triumphed.

I could not get over this farewell glimpse of them for a long time. When
Agnes wrote to tell me of her safe arrival, I was as miserable as when
I saw her going away. Whenever I fell into a thoughtful state, this
subject was sure to present itself, and all my uneasiness was sure to be
redoubled. Hardly a night passed without my dreaming of it. It became a
part of my life, and as inseparable from my life as my own head.

I had ample leisure to refine upon my uneasiness: for Steerforth was at
Oxford, as he wrote to me, and when I was not at the Commons, I was
very much alone. I believe I had at this time some lurking distrust of
Steerforth. I wrote to him most affectionately in reply to his, but I
think I was glad, upon the whole, that he could not come to London just
then. I suspect the truth to be, that the influence of Agnes