"No, no, Mr. Locksley," said she,—"not just yet; if you please."
"Action speaks louder than words," said I.
"There is no need of speaking loud. I hear you perfectly."
"I certainly sha'n't whisper," said I; "although it is the custom, I believe, for lovers to do so. Will you be my wife?"
"I sha'n't whisper, either, Mr. Locksley. Yes, I will."
And now she put out her hand.—That's my fact.
September 12th.—We are to be married within three weeks.
September 19th.—I have been in New York a week, transacting business. I got back yesterday. I find every one here talking about our engagement. Esther tells me that it was talked about a month ago, and that there is a very general feeling of disappointment that I am not rich.
"Really, if you don't mind it," said I, "I don't see why others should."
"I don't know whether you are rich or not," says Esther; "but I know that I am."
"Indeed! I was not aware that you had a private fortune," etc., etc.
