"One day I sent Harry a note, with a purse which I had knitted for him, and requested that he would accompany me in the evening, when there was to be a horseback-party on the lake-shore. In about half an hour much was I astonished by the return of the messenger, with an answer to my note, and my _rejected gift_. He declined the ride also, saying that he had a severe headache--(well might his head ache when it contained a brain capable of suggesting _such_ a note.) After some few preliminaries, Harry proceeded to tell me that my gifts were altogether unacceptable so long as my heart continued not right toward him; that I had grieved him beyond all power of expression by the heartlessness I had exhibited _in my disregard of all his wishes and opinions_; this strange note ended by begging that I would not join the riding-party that night; that he would visit me in the evening, and receive from me then any explanations I might be ready to make. "In ten minutes more the messenger was on his way back to Harry Kirkland's office, with a neat package, which contained the young man's notes, miniature, gifts, &c., with an assurance, which I wrote with a most steady hand, that my evening ride would, doubtless, prove more agreeable than a _tête-tête_ with him, and that, as I had no explanations or apologies to offer, he need not be under the inconvenience of seeking me again at home, or elsewhere. I will not speak of the manner in which I passed that afternoon, after I had returned Harry's _second_ note, _un_answered, and _un_opened; nor what thoughts were busy in my mind, nor what feelings were busy in my heart. But I will tell you this, at tea-time, when father came home, _he_ did not reject his daughter's kiss, or the purse either; and now it is snugly resting in the bottom of his pocket, well-filled, as I hope it ever will be. "That moonlight ride--you remember it; perhaps you remember, also, that there was no gayer mortal among you than a certain Florence Cleveland. She might not have slept _quite_ soundly that night, when she was alone in her little chamber, but it was not _very_ long that Harry Kirkland's image disturbed her dreams. Harry was proud as I; doubtless he thought himself the abused one, (and _that_, you know, is wonderfully efficacious in curing heart-wounds,) and I can readily believe that many times since he has blessed the day that saved him from _coquetting_ Florence Cleveland. But--you know already how suddenly Harry moved to New York that autumn, and also how you wondered we did not correspond. "And what of George Stephenson? Ha! ha! I always laugh when I think of him--_do you_, dear? What did _we_ think of him, _mon ami_, till we discovered one day, much to our amaze, that he was engaged to us both.