The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1869-07-10
HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
BY ANTHONY TRoLLoPE.
CHAPTER LXXIII
Continued

How was it all to be for her' For
the last two days she had been radiant
with new happiness. Everything had
seemed to be settled. Her lover, III his
bigh-handed way, had declared that In
30 important crisis of life would he
allow himself to be driven out OF his
way by the fear of what an old woman
might do in her will. When Dorothy
assured him that not for worlds would
she, though she loved him dearly, iDjure
his material prospects, he had thrown 1T
all aside, after grand fashion, that had
really made the girl think that all Miss
Staubury's money was as nothing to his
love for her. She and Priscilla and her
mother had been carried away so entire |
ly by Brooke's oratory as to feel for the
time that the difficulties were entirely |
conquered. But now the aspect Of things
was SO different! Whatever Brooke
might owe to Miss Stanbury, she, Dor
othy, owed her aunt everything. She
would immediate herself,-if Brooke
would only let her. She did not quite
understand her auAt's stubborn opposi-
ton; but she knew that there was some
great cause for her aunt's feeling on the
matter. There had been a promise
made, or an oath sworn, that the pro-
perty of the Burgess family should not
90 into the hands OF any Stanbury.
Dorothy told herself that, were she
married, she would be Stanbury no
louger,-that her aunt would still COM
ply with the obligation she had fixed
for herself; but, nevertheless, she was
ready to believe that her aunt might be
right. Her aunt had always declared
that it should be so; and Dorothy, know
ing this, confessed to herself that she
should have kept her heart under better
control. Thinking of these things, she
went to the table, where paper and ink
and pens had all been prepared for her
80 prettily, and began her letter to
Brooke. Dearest, dearest Brooke"
But then she thought that this was not
a fair keeping of her promise, and she
began again. "My dear Brooke" The
letter, however, did not get itself writ
ten that nigkt. 1t was almost impossi-
BILE for her to write it. 81 think it will
be better for you," she had tried to say,
Ito be guided by my aunt" But how
could she say this when she did not be-
lieve it, Is was her wish to make him
understand that she would never think
i'll of him, for a moment, If he would
make up his mind 20 abandon her; but
she could not find the words to express
herself, and she went. at last, to bed,
leaving the half covered paper upon the
table.
She went to bed, and cried herself to
sleep. 1t had been sosweet to have a
lover,-a man of her own, to whom she
could say what she pleased, from whom
she had a right to ask for counsel and
protection, a man who delighted to be
near her, and to make much of her. In
comparison with her old mode 0fliving,
her old ideas of life, her life with such
lover was passed in an elysium. She
had entered from barren lands into so
rich paradise But there is no para
disc, as she now found, without apples
which must be- eaten, and which lead to
sorrow. She regretted in this hour that
she had ever seen Brooke Burgess. After
all, with her aunt's love and care for
her, with her mother and sister near her,
with the respect of those who knew her,
why should the lands have been barren,
even had there been no entrance for her
into that eylsiumi And did it not all
result in this, that the elysium TO be
looked TO should not DO here; that the
paradise without the apples must be
waited for till beyond the gravel 1t is
when things go badly with us here, and
for most of us only theu, that we think
that We can see through the dark clouds
into the joys OF heaven. But at last she
slept, and in her dreams Brooke was sit
ting with her in Niddon Park, with his
arm tight clasped round her waist.
She slept so soundly, that when step
crept silently into her room, and when
light was held for n while over her
face, neither the step nor the light
awakened her. She was lying with her
head back upon her pillow, and her arm
hung by the bedside, and her lips were
open, and her loose hair was spread up
on the pillow. The person VINO stood
there with the light thought that there
never had been fairer sight. Every
thing there was so pure, so sweet, SO
good She was one whose only selfish
happiness could come to her from the
belief that others loved her. The step
had been very soft, and even the breath
of the intruder was not allowed to pass
heavily into the air, but the light of the
candle shone upon the eyelids of the
sleeper, and she moved her head rest
leSsly on the pillow. Dorothy, are you
awake Can you speak to me ~
Ihen the disturbed girl gradually
openeu her eyes and gazed upwards, and
Iaiseu herself IN the bed, and sat wond-
eiing. lis anything the matter, aunt ?"
only the vagaries of an old woman.
my pet,.-of an old woman who cannot
sleep in her bed" ''"No'
"But what is it, auutp
kiss me, dearest" Then, with Soma
thing of slumber still about her. Dor.
Othy raised herself in her bed, and placed
her arm on her aunt's shoulder and EN-.
braced her. Sand now for my news, ,
said Miss Stanbury.
"Whst news, aunti 1t isn't morning
yet; is it r'
Mott is not morning. You shall
sleep again presently. have though
of it, and you shall be BrOOke's wife
and l will have it here, and we will al
be friends"
What