‘But what is it, aunt?’

‘Kiss me, dearest.’  Then, with something of slumber still about her, Dorothy raised herself in her bed, and placed her arm on her aunt’s shoulder and embraced her.  ‘And now for my news,’ said Miss Stanbury.

‘What news, aunt?  It isn’t morning yet; is it?’

’No it is not morning.  You shall sleep again presently.  I have thought of it, and you shall be Brooke’s wife, and I will have it here, and we will all be friends.’

‘What!’

‘You will like that will you not?’

‘And you will not quarrel with him?  What am I to say?  What am I to do?’ She was, in truth, awake now, and, not knowing what she did, she jumped out of bed, and stood holding her aunt by the arm.

‘It is not a dream,’ said Miss Stanbury.

‘Are you sure that it is not a dream?  And may he come here tomorrow?’

‘Of course he will come tomorrow.’

‘And may I see him, Aunt Stanbury?’

‘Not if you go home, my dear.’

’But I won’t go home.  And will you tell him?  Oh dear, oh dear!  Aunt Stanbury, I do not think that I believe it yet.’

’You will catch cold, my dear, if you stay there trying to believe it.  You have nothing on.  Get into bed and believe it there.  You will have time to think of it before the morning.’  Then Miss Stanbury went back to her own chamber, and Dorothy was left alone to realise her bliss.

She thought of all her life for the last twelve months, of the first invitation to Exeter, and the doubts of the family as to its acceptance, of her arrival and of her own doubts as to the possibility of her remaining, of Mr Gibson’s courtship and her aunt’s disappointment, of Brooke’s coming, of her love and of his, and then of her departure back to Nuncombe.  After that had come the triumph of Brooke’s visit, and then the terrible sadness of her aunt’s displeasure.  But now everything was good and glorious.  She did not care for money herself.  She thought that she never could care much for being rich.  But had she made Brooke poor by marrying him, that must always have been to her matter of regret, if not of remorse.  But now it was all to be smooth and sweet.  Now a paradise was to be opened to her, with no apples which she might not eat, no apples which might not, but still must, be eaten.  She thought that it would be impossible that she should sleep again that night; but she did sleep, and dreamed that Brooke was holding her in Niddon Park, tighter than ever.

When the morning came she trembled as she walked down into the parlour.  Might it not still be possible that it was all a dream? or what if her aunt should again have changed her purpose?  But the first moment of her aunt’s presence told her that there was nothing to fear.  ’How did you sleep, Dorothy?’ said the old lady.

‘Dear aunt, I do not know.  Was it all sleep?’

‘What shall we say to Brooke when he comes?’