"I think I'll give up my horses and take to walking as you have." On the way home Bill held the reins in one hand and attempted to take mine with the other, a proceeding which I checked, whereupon he was exceedingly confused.

The whip fell from his clutch over the dasher, and in recovering it his hat fell off; shame kept him silent for the rest of the ride.
I begged Alice to propose no more rides with Cousin Bill.

That night he composed a letter which he sent me by Charlotte early the next morning.
"Why, Charlotte, what nonsense is this ?" "I expect," she answered sympathizingly, "that it is an offer of his hand and heart." "Don't mention it, Charlotte." "Never while I have breath." In an hour she told Phoebe, who told Alice, who told Charles, and there it ended.

It was an offer, as Charlotte predicted.

My first! I was crestfallen! I wrote a reply, waited till everybody had gone to breakfast, and slipping into his room, pinned it to the pincushion.
In the evening he asked if I ever sang "_Should these fond hopes e'er forsake thee."_ I gave him the "_Pirate's Serenade_" instead, which his mother declared beautiful.