But it seemed to her that Dorothy
was not in the least grateful. Hugh had proved himself to be 'a mass of
ingratitude,' as she was in the habit of saying. None of the Burgesses
had ever shewn to her any gratitude for promises made to them, or,
indeed, for any substantial favours conferred upon them. And now
Dorothy, to whom a very seventh heaven of happiness had been opened--a
seventh heaven, as it must be computed in comparison with her low
expectations--now Dorothy was already shewing how thankless she could
become. Mr Gibson had not yet declared his passion, but he had freely
admitted to Miss Stanbury that he was prepared to do so. Priscilla had
been quite right in her suggestion that there was a clear understanding
between the clergyman and her aunt.
'I don't think he is come after all,' said Miss Stanbury, looking at
her watch. Had the train arrived at the moment that it was due, had the
expectant visitor jumped out of the railway carriage into a fly, and
had the driver galloped up to the Close, it might have been possible
that the wheels should have been at the door as Miss Stanbury spoke.
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