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'I'm sure there is
something wrong. What is it? I will know'
'There is nothing wrong, Aunt Stanbury'
'Where is the letter? Let me see it.'
'I mean there is nothing wrong about him.'
'What is it, then?'
'He is quite well, Aunt Stanbury.'
'Shew me the letter. I will see the letter. I know that there is
something the matter. Do you mean to say you won't shew me Brooke's
letter?'
There was a moment's pause before Dorothy answered. 'I will shew you
his letter though I am sure he didn't mean that I should shew it to
anyone.'
'He hasn't written evil of me?'
'No; no; no. He would sooner cut his hand off than say a word bad of
you. He never says or writes anything bad of anybody. But Oh, aunt;
I'll tell you everything. I should have told you before, only that you
were ill.'
Then Miss Stanbury was frightened. 'What is it?' she said hoarsely,
clasping the arms of the great chair, each with a thin, shrivelled
hand.
'Aunt Stanbury, Brooke--Brooke wants me to be his wife!'
'What!'
'You cannot be more surprised than I have been, Aunt Stanbury; and
there has been no fault of mine.


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956 957 958 959 960 961 962 963 964 965 966 967 968 969 970 971 972 973 974 975 976 977 978 979 980