her,--was one of those tough customers who would
never die. "It would be nothing to us, Mr. Barty, one way or the
other," said the clerk; to which Barty Burgess assented with another
grunt.

Camilla French declared that she was delighted to hear the news. At
this time there had been some sort of a reconciliation between her
and her lover. Mrs. French had extracted from him a promise that he
would not go to Natal; and Camilla had commenced the preparations for
her wedding. His visits to Heavitree were as few and far between as
he could make them with any regard to decency; but the 31st of March
was coming on quickly, and as he was to be made a possession of them
for ever, it was considered to be safe and well to allow him some
liberty in his present condition. "My dear, if they are driven, there
is no knowing what they won't do," Mrs. French said to her daughter.
Camilla had submitted with compressed lips and a slight nod of her
head. She had worked very hard, but her day of reward was coming. It
was impossible not to perceive,--both for her and her mother,--that
the scantiness of Mr. Gibson's attention to his future bride was
cause of some weak triumph to Arabella. She said that it was very odd
that he did not come,--and once added with a little sigh that he used
to come in former days, alluding to those happy days in which another
love was paramount. Camilla could not endure this with an equal mind.
"Bella, dear," she said, "we know what all that means. He has made
his choice, and if I am satisfied with what he does now, surely you
need not grumble." Miss Stanbury's illness had undoubtedly been a
great source of contentment to the family at Heavitree, as they had
all been able to argue that her impending demise was the natural
consequence of her great sin in the matter of Dorothy's proposed
marriage. When, however, they heard from Mr. Martin that she would
certainly recover, that Sir Peter's edict to that effect had gone
forth, they were willing to acknowledge that Providence, having so
far punished the sinner, was right in staying its hand and abstaining
from the final blow. "I'm sure we are delighted," said Mrs. French,
"for though she has said cruel things of us,--and so untrue too,--yet
of course it is our duty to forgive her. And we do forgive her."

Dorothy had written three or four notes to Brooke since his
departure, which contained simple bulletins of her aunt's health.
She always began her letters with "My