Richard sat down and wrote. His letter was brief and soon written. He enclosed it in an envelope and sealed it, Edith meanwhile standing quietly on the other side of the desk with her hands still folded and resting upon her lap. Then he rose and advanced with the sealed note to where she stood. Nobility spoke in his face and pride in his bearing. The girl's very soul was in her eyes as she met his gaze. "Can you also tell me, Miss Edith," he asked, "what I have written in this letter which I hold sealed before you?" The young girl slowly raised her hands and pressed them to her forehead, unmindful that in so doing she invited him to raise his eyes and look into hers, where he could not but read the mingled expression of pain and delight, of despair and rapture. "In this letter," he continued, "I have written the following: 'My dear Baroness: I beg herewith to prefer my petition for Miss Edith Liedenwall's hand in marriage. I shall be of age in a year's time, and will then come and claim her. Until then pray let her be regarded as my affianced bride.'" Therewith he handed the letter to Edith, who pressed its seal to her lips in a long kiss, after which she returned it to him. His lips also touched the seal, while it was still warm with the kiss of his beloved. That was their betrothal kiss. "Will you deliver this letter to the baroness?" asked Richard. Edith inclined her head without speaking, and stuck the note into her bodice. "And now we shall not have another such interview for a year. Good-bye." He withdrew and let himself out by aid of the key which Edith had given him. When he had gone Edith sank down and pressed a kiss on the spot still marked by her lover's footprints in the soft carpet. * * * * * It was late when the baroness and her daughter returned, and Edith had already gone to her room,--that is, the room which she shared with the maid. "Send the _backfisch_ to us," commanded Alfonsine, addressing Betty. "Not gone to bed yet, Edith?" asked the baroness, as her niece entered the room. "No, aunt." Antoinette looked into the girl's eyes with searching scrutiny, but failed to find there what she sought. She saw, on the contrary, a proud self-consciousness that was new to the girl. "Have any callers come while we were out?" inquired the baroness. "Yes; Captain Baradlay." The two ladies' eyes directed a cross-fire upon Edith, but with no effect. She no longer blushed at the mention of that name. It was now enshrined in her heart and would not again drive the tell-tale blood to her cheeks. "Did the captain wait for us?" asked Antoinette. "Only long enough to write this letter," was the girl's calm reply, as she delivered Richard's note to her aunt. Now it was the latter's turn to feel the hot blood mounting to her face as she read the missive. "Do you know what is in this letter?" she asked, giving the girl a penetrating look. "Yes," answered Edith, with modest dignity.