He Knew He Was Right

nine months have been, with you in Exeter, while we have been at the Clock House. And here we are, together again in the old way, just as though nothing had happened.” But Dorothy knew well that a great deal had happened, and that her life could never be as it had been heretofore. The very tone in which her sister spoke to her was proof of this. She had an infinitely greater possession in herself than had belonged to her before her residence at Exeter; but that possession was so heavily mortgaged and so burdened as to make her believe that the change was to be regretted.

At the end of the first week there came a letter from Aunt Stanbury to Dorothy. It began by saying that Dolly had left behind her certain small properties which had now been made up in a parcel and sent by the railway, carriage paid. “But they weren’t mine at all,” said Dolly, alluding to certain books in which she had taken delight. “She means to give them to you,” said Priscilla, “and I think you must take them.” “And the shawl is no more mine than it is yours, though I wore it two or three times in the winter.” Priscilla was of opinion that the shawl must be taken also. Then the letter spoke of the writer’s health, and at last fell into such a strain of confidential gossip that Mrs. Stanbury, when she read it, could not understand that there had been a quarrel. “Martha says that she saw Camilla French in the street today, such a guy in her new finery as never was seen before except on May-day.” Then in the postscript Dorothy was enjoined to answer this letter quickly. “None of your short scraps, my dear,” said Aunt Stanbury.

“She must mean you to go back to her,” said Mrs. Stanbury.

“No doubt she does,” said Priscilla; “but Dolly need not go because my aunt means it. We are not her creatures.”

But Dorothy answered her aunt’s letter in the spirit in which it had been written. She asked after her aunt’s health, thanked her aunt for the gift of the books⁠—in each of which her name had been clearly written⁠—protested about the shawl, sent her love to Martha and her kind regards to Jane, and expressed a hope that C. F. enjoyed her new clothes. She described the cottage, and was funny about the cabbage stumps in the garden, and at last succeeded in concocting a long epistle. “I suppose there will be a regular correspondence,” said Priscilla.

Two days afterwards, however, the correspondence took altogether another form. The cottage in which they now lived was supposed to be beyond the beat of the wooden-legged postman, and therefore it was necessary that they should call at the post-office for their letters. On the morning in question Priscilla obtained a thick letter from Exeter for her mother, and knew that it had come from her aunt. Her aunt could hardly have found it necessary to correspond with Dorothy’s mother so soon after that letter to Dorothy had been written had there not arisen some very peculiar cause. Priscilla, after much meditation, thought it better that the letter should be opened in Dorothy’s absence, and in Dorothy’s absence the following letter was read both by Priscilla and her mother:⁠—

The Close, March 19, 186‒.

Dear Sister Stanbury,

After much consideration, I think it best to send under cover to you the enclosed letter from Mr. Brooke Burgess, intended for your daughter Dorothy. You will see that I have opened it and read it⁠—as I was clearly entitled to do, the letter having been addressed to my niece while she was supposed to be under my care. I do not like to destroy the letter, though, perhaps, that would be best; but I would advise you to do so, if it be possible, without showing it to Dorothy. I have told Mr. Brooke Burgess what I have done.

I have also told him that I cannot sanction a marriage between him and your daughter. There are many reasons of old date⁠—not to speak of present reasons also⁠—which would make such a marriage highly inexpedient. Mr. Brooke Burgess is, of course, his own master, but your daughter understands completely how the matter stands.

Yours truly,

Jemima Stanbury.

“What a wicked old woman!” said Priscilla. Then there arose a question whether they should read Brooke’s letter, or whether they should give it unread to Dorothy. Priscilla denounced her aunt in the strongest language she could use for having broken the seal. “ ‘Clearly entitled,’⁠—because Dorothy had been living with her!” exclaimed Priscilla. “She can have no proper conception of honour or of honesty. She had no more right to open Dorothy’s letter than she had to take her money.” Mrs. Stanbury was very anxious to read Brooke’s letter, alleging that they would then be able to judge whether it should be handed over to Dorothy. But Priscilla’s sense of right would not admit of this. Dorothy must receive the letter from her lover with no further stain from unauthorised eyes than that to which it had been already subjected. She was called in, therefore, from the kitchen, and the whole packet was given to her. “Your aunt has read the enclosure, Dolly; but we have not opened it.”

Dorothy took the packet without a word and sat herself down. She first read her aunt’s letter very slowly. “I understand perfectly,” she said, folding it up, almost listlessly, while Brooke’s letter lay still unopened on her lap. Then she took it up, and held it awhile in both hands, while her mother and Priscilla watched her. “Priscilla,” she said, “do you read it first.”

Priscilla was immediately at her side, kissing her. “No, my darling; no,” she said; “it is for you to read it.” Then Dorothy took the precious contents from the envelope, and opened the folds of the paper. When she had read a dozen words, her