There may be work to be got

　　She lifted up her eyes, and  solemnly declared that she would devote  herself to this task, fervently and faithfully.  That she would never waver in it, never be diverted from it, never relinquish it,  while there was any chance of  hope.  If she were not true to it, might the  object she now had in life, which bound  her to  something devoid  of evil,  in its  passing away  from her,  leave her  more forlorn and more despairing, if that  were possible, than she had been  upon the river's brink that night;  and then might all  help, human and Divine,  renounce her evermore!

　　She did not raise her  voice above her breath, or  address us, but said this  to the night sky; then stood profoundly quiet, looking at the gloomy water.

　　We judged  it expedient,  now, to  tell her  all we  knew; which  I recounted at length.  She listened with great attention, and with a face that often  changed, but had the same purpose in all its varying expressions.  Her eyes  occasionally filled with tears,  but those she  repressed.  It seemed  as if her  spirit were quite altered, and she could not be too quiet.

　　She asked, when all was told, where we were to be communicated with, if occasion should arise.  Under  a dull lamp  in the road,  I wrote our  two addresses on a leaf of my pocket-book, which I tore out  and gave to her, and which she put  in her poor bosom.  I asked her where she lived herself.  She said, after a  pause, in no place long.  It were better not to know.

　　Mr.  Peggotty suggesting  to me,  in a  whisper, what  had already  occurred  to myself, I took  out my purse;  but I could  not prevail upon  her to accept  any money, nor could I exact  any promise from her that  she would do so at  another time.  I represented to  her that Mr. Peggotty  could not be called,  for one in his condition, poor;  and that the  idea of her  engaging in this  search, while depending on her own resources,  shocked us both.  She continued  steadfast.  In this particular, his  influence upon her  was equally powerless  with mine.  She gratefully thanked him but remained inexorable.

　　'There may be work to be got,' she said.  'I'll try.'

　　'At least take some assistance,' I returned, 'until you have tried.'

　　'I could not  do what I  have promised, for  money,' she replied.   'I could not take it, if I was starving.  To give me money would be to take away your  trust, to take away the object  that you have given me,  to take away the only  certain thing that saves me from the river.'

　　'In the name of the  great judge,' said I, 'before  whom you and all of  us must stand at His dread time, dismiss that terrible idea! We can all do some good, if we will.'