The young man advanced to Alfonsine and addressed her in words of sincere gratitude and friendliness. "First of all," he began, "it was to pay a debt of heartfelt gratitude that I hastened hither this morning. At daybreak I was to have been executed as a condemned criminal, but at the last moment I was pardoned. The governor, in remitting my sentence and setting me free, enjoined upon me as my first duty to pay you, my dear young lady, my sincere thanks for my freedom. Without your intervention I should have been sentenced to at least fifteen years' imprisonment. Accept, I beg you, my warmest thanks for your kind act." Every one of his words was a crushing blow on the viper's head. Did he thank her, Alfonsine Plankenhorst, for his liberation, he whose destruction had been the end and aim of all her strivings for weeks and months past, and the sweet vision of her nightly dreams? Her mother, whose self-control was greater than her own, was forced to come to her aid. "My dear sir," said she to Richard, "there must be some mistake here. The service which you ascribe to my daughter cannot have been rendered by any member of my family, for the simple reason that we have not concerned ourselves with your affairs in the slightest degree. We live in strict retirement, meet no one, never meddle in politics, and our drawing-rooms are closed to society. This last I beg leave to emphasise for your benefit." "I understand you perfectly, madam, and I can assure you that this is the last time I shall intrude upon you. A few words more and I have done. You will remember that a year and a half ago I became engaged to your niece--" "An engagement which, of course, must now be considered as broken off," interrupted the baroness. "When you asked for my niece's hand you were an officer in the army, a man of property, and a nobleman. Now, however, you are neither." "But I am still Richard Baradlay," returned the young man, with dignity. "And free as a bird!" added the other, scornfully. "But it so happens that the other party to the engagement is not equally free. Miss Edith Liedenwall is bound to comply with the wishes of her relatives on whom she is dependent, and they consider it their duty to discountenance her engagement to Mr. Richard Baradlay. She feels, too, that she has a perfect right to break the engagement and choose again more wisely." "I beg to ask Miss Liedenwall whether that is so?" Edith shook her head, but did not venture to speak. Her aunt was bent on settling the matter once for all. "Edith will do as we think best for her," said she. "We are not only entitled, but in duty bound, to make wise provision for her future. You, sir, are now too late with your wooing. We provided for her while you were still in prison and little likely ever to see your freedom. My niece is promised to another." Edith started from her chair. "Your niece will give her hand only to the man she loves," she declared, firmly.