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'If it had been anyone but you, Agnes,' said I, turning away my head, 'I should not have minded it half so much. But that it should have been you who saw me! I almost wish I had been dead, first.' ¡¡¡¡She put her hand - its touch was like no other hand - upon my arm for a moment; and I felt so befriended and comforted, that I could not help moving it to my lips, and gratefully kissing it. ¡¡¡¡'Sit down,' said Agnes, cheerfully. 'Don't be unhappy, Trotwood. If you cannot confidently trust me, whom will you trust?' ¡¡¡¡'Ah, Agnes!' I returned. 'You are my good Angel!' ¡¡¡¡She smiled rather sadly, I thought, and shook her head. ¡¡¡¡'Yes, Agnes, my good Angel! Always my good Angel!' ¡¡¡¡'If I were, indeed, Trotwood,' she returned, 'there is one thing that I should s
oil paintinget my heart on very much.' ¡¡¡¡I looked at her inquiringly; but already with a foreknowledge of her meaning. ¡¡¡¡'On warning you,' said Agnes, with a steady glance, 'against your bad Angel.' ¡¡¡¡'My dear Agnes,' I began, 'if you mean Steerforth -' ¡¡¡¡'I do, Trotwood,' she returned. 'Then, Agnes, you wrong him very much. He my bad Angel, or anyone's! He, anything but a guide, a support, and a friend to me! My dear Agnes! Now, is it not unjust, and unlike you, to judge him from what you saw of me the other night?' ¡¡¡¡'I do not judge him from what I saw of you the other night,' she quietly replied. ¡¡¡¡'From what, then?'