ed herself that her love for Brooke was treason
either against him or against her aunt. If, by engaging herself to
him, she should rob him of his inheritance, how bitter a burden to
him would her love have been! If, on the other hand, she should
reward her aunt for all that had been done for her by forcing
herself, a Stanbury, into a position not intended for her, how base
would be her ingratitude! These thoughts had troubled her much, and
had always prevented her from answering any of her aunt's chance
allusions to the property. For her, things had at last gone very
right. She did not quite know how it had come about, but she was
engaged to marry the man she loved. And her aunt was, at any rate,
reconciled to the marriage. But when Miss Stanbury declared that she
did not know what to do about the property, Dorothy could only hold
her tongue. She had had plenty to say when it had been suggested to
her that the marriage should be put off yet for a short while, and
that, in the meantime, Brooke should come again to Exeter. She swore
that she did not care for how long it was put off,--only that she
hoped it might not be put off altogether. And as for Brooke's coming,
that, for the present, would be very much nicer than being married
out of hand at once. Dorothy, in truth, was not at all in a hurry to
be married, but she would have liked to have had her lover always
coming and going. Since the courtship had become a thing permitted,
she had had the privilege of welcoming him twice at the house in the
Close; and that running down to meet him in the little front parlour,
and the getting up to make his breakfast for him as he started in
the morning, were among the happiest epochs of her life. And then,
as soon as ever the breakfast was eaten, and he was gone, she would
sit down to write him a letter. Oh, those letters, so beautifully
crossed, more than one of which was copied from beginning to end
because some word in it was not thought to be sweet enough;--what a
heaven of happiness they were to her! The writing of the first had
disturbed her greatly, and she had almost repented of the privilege
before it was ended; but with the first and second the difficulties
had disappeared; and, had she not felt somewhat ashamed of the
occupation, she could have sat at her desk and written him letters
all day. Brooke would answer them, with fair regularity, but in a
most cursory manner,--sending seven or eight lines in return for two
she