“Do you wish me, Maurice?”
“I do—of course I do. I feel sure that whatever it may be, I shall be able to explain it. I know that my relations with you are of a questionable character; or might be so deemed, if the world knew of them. It is for that very reason I am going back to the Alamo.”
“And to stay there?”
“Only for a single day, or two at most. Only to gather up my household gods, and bid a last adieu to my prairie life.”
“Indeed!”
“You appear surprised.”
“No! only mystified. I cannot comprehend you. Perhaps I never shall!”
“’Tis very simple—the resolve I have taken. I know you will forgive me, when I make it known to you.”
“Forgive you, Maurice! For what do you ask forgiveness?”
“For keeping it a secret from you, that—that I am not what I seem.”