‘I’ll go on reading, aunt, if you’ll let me,’ said Dorothy.  But Miss Stanbury, who was not a cruel woman, would have no more of the reading, and Dorothy’s mind was left at liberty to think of the proposition that had been made to her.  To one resolution she came very quickly.  The period of her aunt’s illness could not be a proper time for marriage vows, or the amenities of love-making.  She did not feel that he, being a man, had offended; but she was quite sure that were she, a woman, the niece of so kind an aunt, the nurse at the bedside of such an invalid were she at such a time to consent to talk of love, she would never deserve to have a lover.  And from this resolve she got great comfort.  It would give her an excuse for making no more assured answer at present, and would enable her to reflect at leisure as to the reply she would give him, should he ever, by any chance, renew his offer.  If he did not, and probably he would not, then it would have been very well that he should not have been made the victim of a momentary generosity.  She had complained of the dullness of her life, and that complaint from her had produced his noble, kind, generous, dear, enthusiastic benevolence towards her.  As she thought of it all, and by degrees she took great pleasure in thinking of it, her mind bestowed upon him all manner of eulogies.  She could not persuade herself that he really loved her, and yet she was full at heart of gratitude to him for the expression of his love.  And as for herself, could she love him?  We who are looking on of course know that she loved him; that from this moment there was nothing belonging to him, down to his shoe-tie, that would not be dear to her heart and an emblem so tender as to force a tear from her.  He had already become her god, though she did not know it.  She made comparisons between him and Mr Gibson, and tried to convince herself that the judgment, which was always pronounced very clearly in Brooke’s favour, came from anything but her heart.  And thus through the long watches of the night she became very happy, feeling but not knowing that the whole aspect of the world was changed to her by those few words which her lover had spoken to her.  She thought now that it would be consolation enough to her in future to know that such a man as Brooke Burgess had once asked her to be the partner of his life, and that it would be almost ungenerous in her to push her advantage further and attempt to take him at his word.  Besides, there would be obstacles.  Her aunt would dislike such a marriage for him, and he would be bound to obey her aunt in such a matter.  She would not allow herself to think that she could ever become Brooke’s wife, but nothing could rob her of the treasure of the offer which he had made her.  Then Martha came to her at five o’clock, and she went to her bed to dream for an hour or two of Brooke Burgess and her future life.