"And old Slight. Quite true. And I am the image of the Ralph Dashwood who left his home nearly forty years ago. There were reasons, therefore, why I did not desire to meet you, Lady Dashwood, till the time was ripe. But circumstances were too strong for me; sooner or later it had been my hope that--that----"
"I begin to understand," Lady Dashwood said as Ralph hesitated. "For the present you desire to be just Ralph Darnley. But the deception cannot continue for long."
"For long enough," Ralph smiled. "Let me confide in you to a certain extent, Lady Dashwood. I am a sentimental man as my father was before me."
"I know he was," Lady Dashwood said absently. "If he had not been, my punishment might have been less--but I am assuming too much. Please go on."
"I am a lonely man. My mother died early, and my father and myself were thrown a great deal together. We spent most of our time in California, where the population is not great. You can understand how it was that I became so retrospective. And when I came to hear of the mystery that my father had kept till the end, I began to have dreams of my own. I began to see myself the master of a lovely place, like Dashwood Hall, for instance. . . . You see that I am speaking from my heart to you now, and I know that you are going to respect my confidence and sympathise with me."
"As long as you look at me with those eyes of--yours," Lady Dashwood murmured. "We are going to be great friends, thank God. But please go on."
"Well, I had my dreams of the kind of wife who would make my home a Paradise for me, and two years ago I met her in Paris. She was proud and reserved and haughty, but all the same I knew that my instincts had not played me false. The girl likes me--of that I am certain. It sounds egotistical, but I believe that she loves me without knowing it. Had I told her of the fine old house and the good old name, there would have been no obstacles in the way. But I gave the curb to my inclinations, and my secret remained untold. . . . For nearly two years I did not see that girl, not till I came down here less than a week ago. Can you guess who it is?"
"Mary," Lady Dashwood cried. "My dear, dear Mary! And she does not know, she does not dream--indeed, how should she? You want her to----"
"To care for me, Ralph Darnley. Mary has a terrible curse, her family pride comes before her duty, and even before her religion. It is the idol that she has come to worship. Mind, I am by no means blind to the girl's virtues; I should not love her as I do otherwise. But I want to break down that family pride, I want to show Mary and prove to her that it is a mere nothing by the side of love and duty and common humanity. That is why it is merely Ralph Darnley who speaks to you today. When Mary owns her love for Ralph Darnley, and holds that love better than her pride of race, then I can speak. It may be that there is a hard lesson to be learned first, but I shall not shrink from that."
"That is how your--my son used to speak," Lady Dashwood murmured. "So gentle and firm, and yet so kind and considerate! You are going to make Mary happy despite herself."