‘When last I was in this house, Miss Stanbury,’ he began, ’I was not fortunate enough to be allowed an opportunity of pleading my cause to yourself.’ Then he paused, and Dorothy was left to consider how best she might answer him. All that her aunt had said to her had not been thrown away upon her. The calls upon that slender meal-tub at home she knew were quite sufficient. And Mr Gibson was, she believed, a good man. And how better could she dispose of herself in life? And what was she that she should scorn the love of an honest gentleman? She would take him, she thought if she could. But then there came upon her, unconsciously, without work of thought, by instinct rather than by intelligence, a feeling of the closeness of a wife to her husband. Looking at it in general she could not deny that it would be very proper that she should become Mrs Gibson. But when there came upon her a remembrance that she would be called upon for demonstration of her love, that he would embrace her, and hold her to his heart, and kiss her, she revolted and shuddered. She believed that she did not want to marry any man, and that such a state of things would not be good for her. ‘Dear young lady,’ continued Mr Gibson, ’you will let me now make up for the loss which I then experienced?’
‘I thought it was better not to give you trouble,’ said Dorothy.
’Trouble, Miss Stanbury! How could it be trouble? The labour we delight in physics pain. But to go back to the subject-matter. I hope you do not doubt that my affection for you is true, and honest, and genuine.’
‘I don’t want to doubt anything, Mr Gibson; but—’
’You needn’t, dearest Miss Stanbury; indeed you needn’t. If you could read my heart you would see written there true love very plainly, very plainly. And do you not think it a duty that people should marry?’ It may be surmised that he had here forgotten some connecting link which should have joined without abruptness the declaration of his own love, and his social view as to the general expediency of matrimony. But Dorothy did not discover the hiatus.
’Certainly when they like each other, and if their friends think it proper.’
’Our friends think it proper, Miss Stanbury—may I say Dorothy? all of them. I can assure you that on my side you will he welcomed by a mother and sisters only too anxious to receive you with open arms. And as regards your own relations, I need hardly allude to your revered aunt. As to your own mother and sister and your brother, who, I believe, gives his mind chiefly to other things I am assured by Miss Stanbury that no opposition need be feared from them. Is that true, dearest Dorothy?’
‘It is true.’
‘Does not all that plead in my behalf? Tell me, Dorothy.’
‘Of course it does.’