for her. "Where's Martha? Why
does not Martha come?" said Miss Stanbury. This was a hard blow, and
from that moment Dorothy believed that it would be expedient that
she should return to Nuncombe Putney. The broth, however, was taken,
while Dorothy sat by in silence. Only one word further was said that
evening by Miss Stanbury about Brooke and his love affair. "There
must be nothing more about this, Dorothy; remember that; nothing at
all. I won't have it." Dorothy made no reply. Brooke's letter was in
her pocket, and it should be answered that night. On the following
day she would let her aunt know what she had said to Brooke. Her aunt
should not see the letter, but should be made acquainted with its
purport in reference to Brooke's proposal of marriage.

"I won't have it!" That had been her aunt's command. What right had
her aunt to give any command upon the matter? Then crossed Dorothy's
mind, as she thought of this, a glimmering of an idea that no one can
be entitled to issue commands who cannot enforce obedience. If Brooke
and she chose to become man and wife by mutual consent, how could her
aunt prohibit the marriage? Then there followed another idea, that
commands are enforced by the threatening and, if necessary, by the
enforcement of penalties. Her aunt had within her hand no penalty of
which Dorothy was afraid on her own behalf; but she had the power
of inflicting a terrible punishment on Brooke Burgess. Now Dorothy
conceived that she herself would be the meanest creature alive if she
were actuated by fears as to money in her acceptance or rejection of
a man whom she loved as she did Brooke Burgess. Brooke had an income
of his own which seemed to her to be ample for all purposes. But that
which would have been sordid in her, did not seem to her to have any
stain of sordidness for him. He was a man, and was bound to be rich
if he could. And, moreover, what had she to offer in herself,--such a
poor thing as was she,--to make compensation to him for the loss of
fortune? Her aunt could inflict this penalty, and therefore the power
was hers, and the power must be obeyed. She would write to Brooke in
a manner that should convey to him her firm decision. But not the
less on that account would she let her aunt know that she thought
herself to have been ill-used. It was an insult to her, a most
ill-natured insult,--that telling her that Brooke had been a fool
for loving her. And then that accusation against her of having