fine art oil painting

done, in which I had perversely wandered away from the voice of my own heart; I knew nothing of. I only knew that I was fervently in earnest, when I felt the rest and peace of having Agnes near me. ¡¡¡¡In her placid sisterly manner; with her beaming eyes; with her tender voice; and with that sweet composure, which had long ago made the house that held her quite a sacred place to me; she soon won me from this weakness, and led me on to tell all that had happened since our last meeting. ¡¡¡¡'And there is not another word to tell, Agnes,' said I, when I had made an end of my confidence. 'Now, my Trotwood,' returned Agnes, with a pleasant smile. 'It must be on someone else.' ¡¡¡¡'On Dora?' said I. ¡¡¡¡'Assuredly.' ¡¡¡¡'Why, I have not mentioned, Agnes,' said I, a little embarrassed, 'that Dora is rather difficult to - I would not, for the world, say, to rely upon, because she is the soul