"As I call it? What would you have me call it? For God's sake, Miss Blunt, be serious, or I shall call it something else. Yes, I love you. Don't you believe it?" "I am open to conviction." "Thank God!" said I. And I attempted to take her hand. "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. This little farce is repeated in some shape every day. I am very idle. I smoke a great deal, and lounge about all day, with my hands in my pockets. I am free from that ineffable weariness of ceaseless _giving_ which I experienced six months ago. I was shorn of my hereditary trinkets at that period; and I have resolved that _this_ engagement, at all events, shall have no connection with the shops. I was balked of my poetry once; I sha'n't be a second time. I don't think there is much danger of this. Esther deals it out with full hands. She takes a very pretty interest in her simple outfit,--showing me triumphantly certain of her purchases, and making a great mystery about others, which she is pleased to denominate table-cloths and napkins. Last evening I found her sewing buttons on a table-cloth. I had heard a great deal of a certain gray silk dress; and this morning, accordingly, she marched up to me, arrayed in this garment. It is trimmed with velvet, and hath flounces, a train, and all the modern improvements generally. "There is only one objection to it," said Esther, parading before the glass in my painting-room: "I am afraid it is above our station." "By Jove! I'll paint your portrait in it," said I, "and make our fortune. All the other men who have handsome wives will bring them to be painted." "You mean all the women who have handsome dresses," said Esther, with great humility.