"Sir Edward?" repeats Doris staring a little. "Why, I don't even know who he is yet. You only said 'my cousin' when you introduced them both to us. How can I possibly tell?"
"And yet you have been dancing with him," says Lancelot with a little smile.
"I!—with Sir Edward?" says Doris evidently thinking that her companion is wandering in his mind a little.
"Yes, you, with Sir Edward. Look here, Doris," taking her arm and raising her from the chair, "that is Sir Edward Ferrars up there!" and he points to the portrait of himself.
"Lancelot!" gasps Doris, and she turns her wonder-stricken face towards him, while a little pained look comes into her eyes. "Why have you called yourself Lancelot, then?" she inquires, her voice sounding a little hurt and constrained.
"Because I am Lancelot," Sir Edward says gently, and taking her hands into his. "But I am Edward too, Doris; the other is only my second name, though I have always been called by it since my infancy. You see, I never expected to come into this property, Doris. It came almost like a blow to me. There was another man, a distant cousin, who was the direct heir; but, poor fellow! he was a black sheep, I am afraid, and he came to an untimely end. It was all hushed up at the time, and I knew no more of it than anyone else. You may imagine, then, how surprised I was when I found myself the happy possessor of this property. Happy, because I have found someone to share it with me, Doris. I should not have cared two straws about it otherwise."
"But—but why did you deceive me, Lancelot?" says Doris, with the threatening of a pout on her fair face.
"I did not deceive you, dear. I simply let things take their own course, with you that is, and I was as much Lancelot Ferrars then as now, now as then. The only two people I told of my accession to this property were your aunt and your mother. I was bound to tell them, of course."
"And why," says Doris, still looking and feeling a little hurt, "why couldn't you tell me too?"
"You must forgive me, Doris. Do you remember what you said to me over and over again about making some great match? I remember you tossing your little head one day when we were sitting in the balcony of the hotel at Venice and saying 'What was love compared to riches!'"