lness. Her
aunt talked to her about rents, and gave her messages for Brooke
Burgess on subjects which seemed to Dorothy to be profane when spoken
of on what might perhaps be a death-bed. And this struck her the more
strongly, because she had a matter of her own on which she would have
much wished to ascertain her aunt's opinion, if she had not thought
that it would have been exceedingly wrong of her to trouble her
aunt's mind at such a time by any such matter. Hitherto she had said
not a word of Brooke's proposal to any living being. At present it
was a secret with herself, but a secret so big that it almost caused
her bosom to burst with the load that it bore. She could not, she
thought, write to Priscilla till she had told her aunt. If she were
to write a word on the subject to any one, she could not fail to make
manifest the extreme longing of her own heart. She could not have
written Brooke's name on paper, in reference to his words to herself,
without covering it with epithets of love. But all that must be known
to no one if her love was to be of no avail to her. And she had an
idea that her aunt would not wish Brooke to marry her,--would think
that Brooke should do better; and she was quite clear that in such a
matter as this her aunt's wishes must be law. Had not her aunt the
power of disinheriting Brooke altogether? And what then if her aunt
should die,--should die now,--leaving Brooke at liberty to do as he
pleased? There was something so distasteful to her in this view of
the matter that she would not look at it. She would not allow herself
to think of any success which might possibly accrue to herself by
reason of her aunt's death. Intense as was the longing in her heart
for permission from those in authority over her to give herself to
Brooke Burgess, perfect as was the earthly Paradise which appeared to
be open to her when she thought of the good thing which had befallen
her in that matter, she conceived that she would be guilty of the
grossest ingratitude were she in any degree to curtail even her own
estimate of her aunt's prohibitory powers because of her aunt's
illness. The remembrance of the words which Brooke had spoken to her
was with her quite perfect. She was entirely conscious of the joy
which would be hers, if she might accept those words as properly
sanctioned; but she was a creature in her aunt's hands,--according to
her own ideas of her own duties; and while her aunt was ill she could
not even