The Baroness was standing by a bright fire made of logs of wood. This was the only room in the house which had the privilege of a fire. The fire gave it all of a sudden a sort of English look. A smarting pain came at the back of my eyes. "I trust you are better, my child," said the Baroness. She came up to me quite kindly, took my hand, and led me to a seat which exactly faced the very bright light which came through two tall windows. She then rang the bell. "Request Comtesse Riki von Kronenfel to attend here immediately," was her remark to the servant. The servant withdrew; there was a dead pause in the room. The Baroness was turning over some papers, and did not take the slightest notice of me. As soon as Riki entered she glanced nervously round her. When she saw me she turned first red, then very white; then, being evidently quite satisfied that I had betrayed her, she went to the extreme end of the room and sat there with her hands folded. "You sent for me, my Baroness?" she said in the prettiest tone imaginable, and looking up with pleading blue eyes at the face of her mistress. The Baroness returned her glance with one full, dark, swift, and indignant. "Riki," she said, "I have had the good fortune to intercept a letter addressed to you." "But how? I understand not," said the girl. "It was addressed to you, and got, doubtless by mistake, into the post-box this morning." As the Baroness spoke she laid the letter on the table. Riki came forward as though to pounce on it. "Permit me," said the Baroness. She took it up and held it firmly in her own hand. "But it is open," said Riki. "I opened it," said the Baroness. Riki then stood very still; it seemed to me I could almost hear her heart beat. "I have read the letter," said the Baroness; "and now I will read it aloud. I will read it in English, so that both you and this young girl, Rachel Grant, may hear." The Baroness then began: "My own One, Angel of Love and Light,--I have received your two most precious letters quite safely. I pine to get still more news from you. I don't think it possible that I can exist until the summer without seeing you, and I propose, during the Easter recess, to get my father to allow me to visit Paris. There, I make no doubt, we can arrange a meeting, if the some kind English girl,"--("Horrors!" I said to myself)--"will again help us by putting your communications to me into the post-box _outside_ the house where that dragon of propriety, the Baroness von Gablestein, resides.--Your most faithful and devoted lover,-- "Heinrich." This letter, read aloud in the smooth tones of the Baroness, without a scrap of emotion, just as though she were repeating one of her pupils' daily lessons, fell truly like a bomb-shell into the little room. "I must have other witnesses to this transaction," she said.