she had not been accustomed. Hitherto,
in the things which she had done, or left undone, she had received
instructions which she could obey. Had her mother and Priscilla
told her positively not to go to her aunt's house, she would have
remained at Nuncombe without complaint. Had her aunt since her coming
given her orders as to her mode of life,--enjoined, for instance,
additional church attendances, or desired her to perform menial
services in the house,--she would have obeyed, from custom, without a
word. But when she was told that she was to marry Mr. Gibson, it did
seem to her to be necessary to do something more than obey. Did she
love Mr. Gibson? She tried hard to teach herself to think that she
might learn to love him. He was a nice-looking man enough, with sandy
hair, and a head rather bald, with thin lips, and a narrow nose, who
certainly did preach drawling sermons; but of whom everybody said
that he was a very excellent clergyman. He had a house and an income,
and all Exeter had long since decided that he was a man who would
certainly marry. He was one of those men of whom it may be said that
they have no possible claim to remain unmarried. He was fair game,
and unless he surrendered himself to be bagged before long, would
subject himself to just and loud complaint. The Miss Frenches had
been aware of this, and had thought to make sure of him among them.
It was a little hard upon them that the old maid of the Close, as
they always called Miss Stanbury, should interfere with them when
their booty was almost won. And they felt it to be the harder because
Dorothy Stanbury was, as they thought, so poor a creature. That
Dorothy herself should have any doubt as to accepting Mr. Gibson, was
an idea that never occurred to them. But Dorothy had her doubts. When
she came to think of it, she remembered that she had never as yet
spoken a word to Mr. Gibson, beyond such little trifling remarks as
are made over a tea-table. She might learn to love him, but she did
not think that she loved him as yet.

"I don't suppose all this will make any difference to Mr. Gibson,"
said Miss Stanbury to her niece, on the morning after the receipt of
Priscilla's note stating that the Trevelyans had left Nuncombe.

Dorothy always blushed when Mr. Gibson's name was mentioned, and she
blushed now. But she did not at all understand her aunt's allusion.
"I don't know what you mean, aunt," she said.

"Well, you know, my dear, what they say ab