Punctually at eleven o’clock on the Friday morning Mr Gibson knocked at the door of the house in the Close. The reader must not imagine that he had ever wavered in his intention with regard to Dorothy Stanbury, because he had been driven into a corner by the pertinacious ingenuity of Miss French. He never for a moment thought of being false to Miss Stanbury, the elder. Falseness of that nature would have been ruinous to him, would have made him a marked man in the city all his days, and would probably have reached even to the bishop’s ears. He was neither bad enough, nor audacious enough, nor foolish enough, for such perjury as that. And, moreover, though the wiles of Arabella had been potent with him, he very much preferred Dorothy Stanbury. Seven years of flirtation with a young lady is more trying to the affection than any duration of matrimony. Arabella had managed to awaken something of the old glow, but Mr Gibson, as soon as he was alone, turned from her mentally in disgust. No! Whatever little trouble there might be in his way, it was clearly his duty to marry Dorothy Stanbury. She had the sweetest temper in the world, and blushed with the prettiest blush! She would have, moreover, two thousand pounds on the day she married, and there was no saying what other and greater pecuniary advantages might follow. His mind was quite made up; and during the whole morning he had been endeavouring to drive all disagreeable reminiscences of Miss French from his memory, and to arrange the words with which he would make his offer to Dorothy. He was aware that he need not be very particular about his words, as Dorothy, from the bashfulness of her nature, would be no judge of eloquence at such a time. But still, for his own sake, there should be some form of expression, some propriety of diction. Before eleven o’clock he had it all by heart, and had nearly freed himself from the uneasiness of his falsehood to Arabella. He had given much serious thought to the matter, and had quite resolved that he was right in his purpose, and that he could marry Dorothy with a pure conscience, and with a true promise of a husband’s love. ‘Dear Dolly!’ he said to himself, with something of enthusiasm as he walked across the Close. And he looked up to the house as he came to it. There was to be his future home. There was not one of the prebends who had a better house. And there was a dovelike softness about Dorothy’s eyes, and a winning obedience in her manner, that were charming. His lines had fallen to him in very pleasant places. Yes he would go up to her and take her at once by the hand, and ask her whether she would be his, now and for ever. He would not let go her hand, till he had brought her so close to him that she could hide her blushes on his shoulder. The whole thing had been so well conceived, had become so clear to his mind, that he felt no hesitation or embarrassment as he knocked at the door. Arabella French would, no doubt, hear of it soon. Well she must hear of it. After all she could do him no injury.

He was shewn up at once into the drawing-room, and there he found Miss Stanbury the elder.

‘Oh, Mr Gibson!’ she said at once.

‘Is anything the matter with dear Dorothy?’

‘She is the most obstinate, pig-headed young woman I ever came across since the world began.’

‘You don’t say so! But what is it, Miss Stanbury?’

‘What is it? Why just this. Nothing on earth that I can say to her will induce her to come down and speak to you.’

‘Have I offended her?’

‘Offended a fiddlestick! Offence indeed! An offer from an honest man, with her friends’ approval, and a fortune at her back as though she had been born with a gold spoon in her mouth! And she tells me that she can’t, and won’t, and wouldn’t, and shouldn’t, as though I were asking her to walk the streets. I declare I don’t know what has come to the young women or what it is they want. One would have thought that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.’

‘But what is the reason, Miss Stanbury?’

‘Oh, reason! You don’t suppose people give reasons in these days. What reason have they when they dress themselves up with bandboxes on their sconces? Just simply the old reason “I do not like thee, Dr. Fell; why I cannot tell.”’

‘May I not see her myself, Miss Stanbury?’

‘I can’t make her come downstairs to you. I’ve been at her the whole morning, Mr Gibson, ever since daylight pretty nearly. She came into my room before I was up and told me she’d made up her mind. I’ve coaxed, and scolded, and threatened, and cried but if she’d been a milestone it couldn’t have been of less use. I told her she might go back to Nuncombe, and she just went off to pack up.’

‘But she’s not to go?’

‘How can I say what such a young woman will do? I’m never allowed a way of my own for a moment. There’s Brooke Burgess been scolding me at that rate I didn’t know whether I stood on my head or my heels. And I don’t know now.’

Then there was a pause, while Mr Gibson was endeavouring to decide what would now be his best course of action. ‘Don’t you think she’ll ever come round, Miss Stanbury?’

‘I don’t think she’ll ever come any way that anybody wants her to come, Mr Gibson.’

‘I didn’t think she was at all like that,’ said Mr Gibson, almost in tears.

‘No nor anybody else. I have been seeing it come all the same. It’s just the Stanbury perversity. If I’d wanted to keep her by herself, to take care of me, and had set my back up at her if she spoke to a man, and made her understand that she wasn’t to think of getting married, she’d have been making eyes at every man that came into the house. It’s just what one gets for going out of one’s way. I did think she’d be so happy, Mr Gibson, living here as your wife. She and I between us could have managed for you so nicely.’

Mr Gibson was silent for a minute or two, during which he walked up and down the room contemplating, no doubt, the picture of married life which Miss Stanbury had painted for him, a picture which, as it seemed, was not to be realised. ‘And what had I better do, Miss Stanbury?’ he asked at last.

‘Do! I don’t know what you’re to do. I’m groom enough to bring a mare to water, but I can’t make her drink.’

‘Will waiting be any good?’

‘How can I say? I’ll tell you one thing not to do. Don’t go and philander with those girls at Heavitree. It’s my belief that Dorothy has been thinking of them. People talk to her, of course.’

‘I wish people would hold their tongues. People are so indiscreet. People don’t know how much harm they may do.’

‘You’ve given them some excuse, you know, Mr Gibson.’

This was very ill-natured, and was felt by Mr Gibson to be so rude, that he almost turned upon his patroness in anger. He had known Dolly for not more than three months, and had devoted himself to her, to the great anger of his older friends. He had come this morning true to his appointment, expecting that others would keep their promises to him, as he was ready to keep those which he had made, and now he was told that it was his fault! ‘I do think that’s rather hard, Miss Stanbury,’ he said.

‘So you have,’ said she ‘nasty, slatternly girls, without an idea inside their noddles. But it’s no use your scolding me.’

‘I didn’t mean to scold, Miss Stanbury.’

‘I’ve done all that I could.’

‘And you think she won’t see me for a minute?’

‘She says she won’t. I can’t bid Martha carry her down.’

‘Then, perhaps, I had better leave you for the present,’ said Mr Gibson, after another pause. So he wen............