she found it impossible to answer. And though she did not
actually yield, though she did not say that she would accept the man,
still, when she was told that three days were to be allowed to her
for consideration, and that then the offer would be made to her
in form, she felt that, as regarded the anti-Gibson interest, she
had not a leg to stand upon. Why should not such an insignificant
creature, as was she, love Mr. Gibson,--or any other man who had
bread to give her, and was in some degree like a gentleman? On that
night, she wrote the following letter to her sister:--

The Close, Tuesday.

DEAREST PRISCILLA,

I do so wish that you could be with me, so that I could
talk to you again. Aunt Stanbury is the most affectionate
and kindest friend in the world; but she has always been
so able to have her own way, because she is both clever
and good, that I find myself almost like a baby with her.
She has been talking to me again about Mr. Gibson; and it
seems that Mr. Gibson really does mean it. It is certainly
very strange; but I do think now that it is true. He is to
come on Friday. It seems very odd that it should all be
settled for him in that way; but then Aunt Stanbury is so
clever at settling things!

He sat next to me almost all the evening yesterday; but
he didn't say anything about it, except that he hoped I
agreed with him about going to church, and all that. I
suppose I do; and I am quite sure that if I were to be a
clergyman's wife, I should endeavour to do whatever my
husband thought right about religion. One ought to try
to do so, even if the clergyman is not one's husband.
Mr. Burgess has come, and he was so very amusing all the
evening, that perhaps that was the reason Mr. Gibson said
so little. Mr. Burgess is a very nice man, and I think
Aunt Stanbury is more fond of him than of anybody. He is
not at all the sort of person that I expected.

But if Mr. Gibson does come on Friday, and does really
mean it, what am I to say to him? Aunt Stanbury will be
very angry if I do not take her advice. I am quite sure
that she intends it all for my happiness; and then, of
course, she knows so much more about the world than I do.
She asks me what it is that I expect. Of course, I do not
expect anything. It is a great compliment from Mr. Gibson,
who is a clergyman, and thought well of by everybody. And
nothing