"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 to-morrow?"
"Of course he will come to-morrow."
"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."