‘There was some little misunderstanding,’ said Mr Gibson; ’but all that should be over now.  We both intended for the best, Miss Dorothy; and I’m sure nobody here can say that I wasn’t sincere.’  But Dorothy, though she could not bring herself to answer Mr Gibson plainly, could not be induced to assent to his proposition.  She muttered something about her aunt’s weakness, and the great attention which Mr Jennings shewed.  Her aunt had become very fond of Mr Jennings, and she did at last express her opinion, with some clearness, that her aunt should not be disturbed by any changes at present.  ’After that I should not think of pressing it, Miss Dorothy,’ said Mr Gibson; ’but, still, I do hope that I may have the privilege of seeing her yet once again in the flesh.  And touching my approaching marriage, Miss Dorothy—­’ He paused, and Dorothy felt that she was blushing up to the roots of her hair.  ‘Touching my marriage,’ continued Mr Gibson, ’which however will not be solemnized till the end of March;’—­it was manifest that he regarded this as a point that would in that household be regarded as an argument in his favour—­’I do hope that you will look upon it in the most favourable light and your excellent aunt also, if she be spared to us.’

‘I am sure we hope that you will be happy, Mr Gibson.’

’What was I to do, Miss Dorothy?  I know that I have been very much blamed but so unfairly!  I have never meant to be untrue to a mouse, Miss Dorothy.’  Dorothy did not at all understand whether she were the mouse, or Camilla French, or Arabella.  ’And it is so hard to find that one is ill-spoken of because things have gone a little amiss.’  It was quite impossible that Dorothy should make any answer to this, and at last Mr Gibson left her, assuring her with his last word that nothing would give him so much pleasure as to be called upon once more to see his old friend in her last moments.

Though Miss Stanbury had been described as sleeping ‘like a babby,’ she had heard the footsteps of a strange man in the house, and had made Martha tell her whose footsteps they were.  As soon as Dorothy went to her, she darted upon the subject with all her old keenness.

‘What did he want here, Dolly?’

’He said he would like to see you, aunt when you are a little better, you know.  He spoke a good deal of his old friendship and respect.’

‘He should have thought of that before.  How am I to see people now?’

‘But when you are better, aunt ?’

’How do I know that I shall ever be better?  He isn’t off with those people at Heavitree is he?’

‘I hope not, aunt.’

’Psha!  A poor, weak, insufficient creature, that’s what he is.  Mr Jennings is worth twenty of him.’  Dorothy, though she put the question again in its most alluring form of Christian charity and forgiveness, could not induce her aunt to say that she would see Mr Gibson.  ’How can I see him, when you know that Sir Peter has forbidden me to see anybody, except Mrs Clifford and Mr Jennings?’