"He has a perfect legal right to the name."
"And under the pretence of being a rich man."
"He is a rich man," I assured her, "to the extent of one hundred thousand pounds."
Gertrude looked at me in astonishment. "That isn't true," she denied.
"My dear girl, I have the word of your father for the amount."
"It's all very strange," said Mabel, calming somewhat, and hiding a covert smile. "Oh, great heavens! I wonder what Aunt Lucy will say!" She laughed outright. "It's like a play: to think that a man with a daughter as old as I am should wish to marry me."
Gertrude colored, and I saw that her mind was tormented to think that her father should act in this underhand way. To lessen her anguish I hastened to relate all I knew--this is, I explained about the Australian cousin, the legal change of name and reason for the suppression of the Burwain household, and the conditions upon which I had held my peace. The two girls listened quietly, Mabel with astonishment and Gertrude with pain. Certainly Walter Monk, alias Wentworth Marr, had not committed a crime, but he had scarcely acted straightforwardly.
"Well," said Mabel, drawing a long breath as usual when I had ended, "I never heard of such a thing. Why on earth didn't Mr. Marr, or Mr. Monk--I'm sure I don't know what to call him--tell me the whole truth? There was no reason to keep quiet that I can see."
"I was the reason, evidently," said Gertrude, with crimson cheeks, for she was heartily ashamed of her father. "Papa did not think you would marry him if you saw me."
For answer, Mabel, who was an extremely kindhearted girl, jumped up and kissed those same flushed cheeks. "My dear, I liked your father well enough, and would have no objection to you as a step-daughter." She laughed merrily at the idea. "But the fact is, I never intended to marry Mr. Marr, whatever Aunt Lucy said. I always loved Dicky Weston and I always shall, although he's so horrid."