"And he proposed to me there."
"Where? in my parlor?"
"Yes; in your parlor, dearest."
"I suppose it's not necessary for me to ask what you said."
"I suppose not," said Minnie, in a sweet voice. "He was so grand and so strong, and he never made any allusions to the wreck; and it was—the—the—very first time that any body ever—proposed; and so, you know, I didn't know how to take it, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings, and I couldn't deny that he had saved my life; and I don't know when I ever was so confused. It's awful, Kitty darling.
"And then, you know, darling," continued Minnie, "he went away, and used to write regularly every month. He came to see me once, and I was frightened to death almost. He is going to marry me next year. He used an awful expression, dearest. He told me he was a struggling man. Isn't that horrid? What is it, Kitty? Isn't it something very, very dreadful?"
"He writes still, I suppose?"
"Oh dear, yes."
Mrs. Willoughby was silent for some time.
"Oh, Minnie," said she at last, "what a trouble all this is! How I wish you had been with me all this time!"