"I don't know what to say," she whispered.
"I'll tell you what to say. Say at once that you will be my wife."
"I can't say that, Mr. Burgess."
"Why not? Do you mean that you cannot love me?"
"I think, if you please, I'll go up to Aunt Stanbury. It is time for me; indeed it is; and she will be wondering, and Martha will be put out. Indeed I must go up."
"And will you not answer me?"
"I don't know what to say. You must give me a little time to consider. I don't quite think you're serious."
"Heaven and earth!" began Brooke.
"And I'm sure it would never do. At any rate, I must go now. I must, indeed."
And so she escaped, and went up to her aunt's room, which she reached at ten minutes after her usual time, and before Martha had begun to be put out. She was very civil to Martha, as though Martha had been injured; and she put her hand on her aunt's arm, with a soft, caressing, apologetic touch, feeling conscious that she had given cause for offence. "What has he been saying to you?" said her aunt, as soon as Martha had closed the door. This was a question which Dorothy, certainly, could not answer. Miss Stanbury meant nothing by it,—nothing beyond a sick woman's desire that something of the conversation of those who were not sick should be retailed to her; but to Dorothy the question meant so much! How should her aunt have known that he had said anything? She sat herself down and waited, giving no answer to the question. "I hope he gets his meals comfortably," said Miss Stanbury.