The letter to Stephensen showed that she herself had thought of a union between us, though her expressions on this point were not quite satisfactory. But it was only during the last two weeks that we had been growing daily more intimate, and by her pointing out that the letter was a fortnight old, I saw a hint that these remarks were no longer to be considered valid.
I wanted to write to her at once.
I had, however, the self-control to take time to shave the left cheek, on which the dried-up lather was still visible, for the sun was already striking the window-post and would soon have made this necessary operation quite impossible. During this performance I collected my thoughts, and managed with flying pen to write the following letter—
"Dearest Friend,—To what extent your sweet letter has moved me, and how far it is from having by its confidence revealed anything save that which but finishes and deepens the beautiful picture I had already formed, I have only one means of convincing you.
"You say you will send Mr. Stephensen a new letter. Now I propose that you should copy the old one up to the remark where you fear my chest is weak, which I can assure you is quite without foundation.
"After this you should then—according to my idea—continue—
"'He has already shown me so much attention that I could not very well doubt his feelings for me. It therefore did not come as a surprise, when he to-day asked for my hand. He has no private means of his own, but will certainly in a year or so have a respectable income, very likely in England, where he has a well-to-do uncle who will
