her arm hung by the bedside, and her lips were open, and
her loose hair was spread upon the pillow. The person who stood there
with the light thought that there never had been a fairer sight.
Everything there was so pure, so sweet, so good! She was one whose
only selfish happiness could come to her from the belief that others
loved her. The step had been very soft, and even the breath of the
intruder was not allowed to pass heavily into the air, but the light
of the candle shone upon the eyelids of the sleeper, and she moved
her head restlessly on the pillow. "Dorothy, are you awake? Can you
speak to me?"
Then the disturbed girl gradually opened her eyes and gazed upwards,
and raised herself in her bed, and sat wondering. "Is anything the
matter, aunt?" she said.
"Only the vagaries of an old woman, my pet,--of an old woman who
cannot sleep in her bed."
[Illustration: "Only the vagaries of an old woman."]
"But what is it, aunt?"
"Kiss me, dearest." Then with something of slumber still about her,
Dorothy raised herself in her bed, and placed her arm on her aunt's
shoulder and embraced her. "And now for my news," said Miss Stanbury.
"What news, aunt? It isn't morning yet; is it?"
"No;--it is not morning. You shall sleep again presently. I have
thought of it, and you shall be Brooke's wife, and I will have it
here, and we will all be friends."
"What!"
"You will like that;--will you not?"
"And you will not quarrel with him? What am I to say? What am I to
do?" She was, in truth, awake now, and, not knowing what she did, she
jumped out of bed, and stood holding her aunt by the arm.
"It is not a dream," said Miss Stanbury.
"Are you sure that it is not a dream? And may he come here
to-morrow?"
"Of course he will come to-morrow."
"And may I see him, Aunt Stanbury?"
"Not if you go home, my dear."
"But I won't go home. And will you tell him? Oh dear, oh dear! Aunt
Stanbury, I do not think that I believe it yet."
"You will catch cold, my dear, if you stay there trying to believe
it. You have nothing on. Get into bed and believe it there. You will
have time to think of it before the morning." Then Miss Stanbury went
back to her own chamber, and Dorothy was left alone to realise her
bliss.
She thought of all her life for the last twelve months,--of the
first invitation to Exeter, and the doubts of the family as to
its acceptance, of her arrival and of her own doubts as to the
possibil
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