“‘Yes; that is I told him to ask my father, and please, Dr. West, will you write too and tell him how I did not do the courting, or ever think of such a thing? Father will scold, I know, and maybe swear. He always does, but I don’t care, I—’ “There was a call for Dr. West, who went out leaving us alone; and then winding my arm around Jessie, I said: “‘And are you sure you love Squire Russell well enough to be his wife?’ This question threw Jessie into another impetuous outburst, and she exclaimed: “‘That is just what he asked me, too; and if I had not loved him before I should have done so when he said, “I wish you to be certain, Jessie, so there need be no after-repentance. I have borne one disappointment,” and he looked so white and sad. “A second would kill me. If I take you now, and then have to give you up, my life will go with you. Can you truly say you love me, Jessie, and are perfectly willing to be mine?” “I was foolish then, Dora, for I told him straight out how it was very sudden; but the knowing he loved me brought into life a feeling which kept growing and growing so fast, that even in a few minutes it seemed as if I had loved him all my life. He is so good and kind, and will let me do just as I please. Don’t you believe he will?” “I had no doubt of it, and I smoothed her short curls while she told me how sorry she was that she ever thought Letitia stupid, or Jimmie less interesting than the others. “‘It seems as if they died just to be out of my way, and I do so wish they were back.’ “Then she said that the wedding was to be the 25th of June, her twentieth birthday, that is, if her father consented; that John had promised to take her to Europe some time, but not this year, and they were going instead to the White Mountains, to Newport, and lots of places, and Johnnie was going with them. Then she settled her bridal _trousseau_, even to the style of her gaiters, declaring she would not have those horrid square toes, if they were fashionable, for they made one’s foot so clumsy, and she put up her fairy little feet, which looked almost as small as Daisy’s. Dear little Jessie, of whom I once was jealous! What a child she is, and what a task she is taking upon herself! But her heart is in it, and that makes it very easy. Had I loved John one half as well as she seems to love him, I should not now be Richard’s wife, waiting for him by the window as I wait for him many nights, knowing that though he chides me for sitting up so late, he is usually pleased to find me so, and kisses me so tenderly as he calls me a naughty girl, and bids me hurry to bed.