David Copperfield

by Charles Dickens

'Fell in love!' repeated my aunt. 'What do you mean? What business had she to do it?'

I cannot call to mind where or when, in my childhood, I had seen a stained glass window in a church. Nor do I recollect its subject. But I know that when I saw her turn round, in the grave light of the old staircase, and wait for us, above, I thought of that window; and I associated something of its tranquil brightness with Agnes Wickfield ever afterwards.