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"To whom else can I apply? Now do let me know all about it."

"Well, but what do you wish to know?"

"How to propose: that's the point. I merely wish to know how it's done."

"But, my dear sir, unless I have some little knowledge of the character of the lady, it will be quite impossible for me to tell what style will be likely to suit her."

"You know her," said the reverend gentleman, with a smile: "I fancy that I know her well; but you know her infinitely better."

"Indeed. Dear me; why whom can it be?"

"Whom should it be? to whom is it likely I could wish to propose? There is but one in this world, my dear madam, and—you are that one! Yes; that's the point—that's it; I wish to propose to you!"

"To me!" exclaimed Aunt Eleanor, archly. "To me?"

"To you, my dear madam; to you."

"Dear me! why how came you to think of such a thing?"

"I'll explain: when I received that letter, which I then of course believed had been written by Sylvester, I privately asked myself two or three questions. First: what had I been about? Secondly, what could be done? and, thirdly, what ought I to do? I answered these questions, and those answers were—to the first, that I had been very stupid: to the second, that this stout fellow might be supplanted; and to the third, that if he could be, I ought to supplant him. I inspired the spirit of rivalry on the instant, and came up resolved on defeating this porpoise: I felt that he was no friend of mine, and I do really think that if he had appeared, I should not have been particularly courteous. Again. I examined my heart; I examined it minutely; and the result of that examination proved that it was in reality full of affection. I had before no idea that that heart of mine possessed such a treasure of beautiful feelings. I found pearls of happiness—pearls, of the very existence of which I had been previously unconscious. I dived into the depths, and brought them from the caves in which they had been so long concealed: they were rough but pure, and being pure, you are the person to polish them up. I now, therefore, repeat, that I am anxious to propose, my dear madam, to you; and if you'll explain how it is to be done, I'll buckle on my armour, and do it at once."

"Upon my word, I cannot give you any such explanation; nor do I think that you in reality need it."

"I never did such a thing in all my life. I never before thought of doing such a thing. I cannot therefore be expected to know much about it. But I suppose that there's a fashion in these matters—a sort of style—a kind of form—which society prescribes; is there not?"

"I really cannot say."

"Well, but pray do assist me a little?"

"Why, what assistance can you possibly require?"

"I require, in an affair of this description, every conceivable assistance. I feel altogether at a loss. I know no more what to say than an infant would know, were it possible to place one in a similar position. What am I to say? What can I say?"