make a clean breast.
Thrice her courage failed her, and she left the room with her tale
untold, excusing herself on various pretexts. Her aunt had seemed to
be not quite so well, or had declared herself to be tired, or had
been a little cross;--or else Martha had come in at the nick of time.
But there was Brooke Burgess's letter unanswered,--a letter that was
read night and morning, and which was never for an instant out of her
mind. He had demanded a reply, and he had a right at least to that.
The letter had been with her for four entire days before she had
ventured to speak to her aunt on the subject.

On the first of March Miss Stanbury came out of her bed-room for the
first time. Dorothy, on the previous day, had decided on postponing
her communication for this occasion; but, when she found herself
sitting in the little sitting-room up-stairs close at her aunt's
elbow, and perceived the signs of weakness which the new move had
made conspicuous, and heard the invalid declare that the little
journey had been almost too much for her, her heart misgave her. She
ought to have told her tale while her aunt was still in bed. But
presently there came a question, which put her into such a flutter
that she was for the time devoid of all resolution. "Has Brooke
written?" said Miss Stanbury.

"Yes,--aunt; he has written."

"And what did he say?" Dorothy was struck quite dumb. "Is there
anything wrong?" And now, as Miss Stanbury asked the question, she
seemed herself to have forgotten that she had two minutes before
declared herself to be almost too feeble to speak. "I'm sure there is
something wrong. What is it? I will know."

"There is nothing wrong, Aunt Stanbury."

"Where is the letter? Let me see it."

"I mean there is nothing wrong about him."

"What is it, then?"

"He is quite well, Aunt Stanbury."

"Shew me the letter. I will see the letter. I know that there is
something the matter. Do you mean to say you won't shew me Brooke's
letter?"

There was a moment's pause before Dorothy answered. "I will shew you
his letter;--though I am sure he didn't mean that I should shew it to
anyone."

"He hasn't written evil of me?"

"No; no; no. He would sooner cut his hand off than say a word bad
of you. He never says or writes anything bad of anybody. But--. Oh,
aunt; I'll tell you everything. I should have told you before, only
that you were ill."

Then Miss Stanbury was frightened. "What is it?" she said hoarsely,