so strictly taught herself to look forward to a blank existence, that she had learned to do so without active misery.  But not the less did she know where happiness lay; and when the good thing came almost within her reach, when it seemed that God had given her gifts which might have sufficed, when a man had sought her hand whose nature was such that she could have leaned on him with a true worship, could have grown against him as against a wall with perfect confidence, could have lain with her head upon his bosom, and have felt that of all spots that in the world was the most fitting for her when this was all but grasped, and must yet be abandoned, there came upon her spirit an agony so bitter that she had not before known how great might be the depth of human disappointment.  But the letter was at last written, and when finished was as follows: 

’The Close, Exeter, March 1, 186-.

Dear Brooke.’

There had been many doubts about this; but at last they were conquered, and the name was written.

’I have shewn your letter to my aunt, as I am sure you will think was best.  I should have answered it before, only that I thought that she was not quite well enough to talk about it.  She says, as I was sure she would, that what you propose is quite out of the question.  I am aware that I am bound to obey her; and as I think that you also ought to do so, I shall think no more of what you have said to me and have written.  It is quite impossible now, even if it might have been possible under other circumstances.  I shall always remember your great kindness to me.  Perhaps I ought to say that I am very grateful for the compliment you have paid me.  I shall think of you always till I die.

Believe me to be,

Your very sincere friend,

Dorothy Stanbury.’

The next day Miss Stanbury again came out of her room, and on the third day she was manifestly becoming stronger.  Dorothy had as yet not spoken of her letter, but was prepared to do so as soon as she thought that a fitting opportunity had come.  She had a word or two to say for herself; but she must not again subject herself to being told that she was taking her will of her aunt because her aunt was too ill to defend herself.  But on the third day Miss Stanbury herself asked the question.  ‘Have you written anything to Brooke?’ she asked.

‘I have answered his letter, Aunt Stanbury.’

‘And what have you said to him?’

’I have told him that you disapproved of it, and that nothing more must be said about it.’

‘Yes of course you made me out to be an ogre.’

’I don’t know what you mean by that, aunt.  I am sure that I told him the truth.’

‘May I see the letter?’

‘It has gone.’

‘But you have kept a copy,’ said Miss Stanbury.

‘Yes; I have got a copy,’ replied Dorothy; ’but I would rather not shew it.  I told him just what I tell you.’