"No, it was only a parable; I deal in parables sometimes. I was just flinging my little pebble for mere sport and idleness, when I called myself by my old name. I wanted to be incognito, to have no gaudy tag or bobtail attached to my hum-drum personality; only, you see, the play has lasted longer than usual."
"But why?" she persisted—but her tone was a little anxious. "Moritz, please do not think me disagreeable,—you were always a whimsical being, and only Gwen knows the extent of your eccentricities; but I am interested in these people." Here she caught her breath a little. "When Mr. Ward knows, he might not be pleased."
"Oh, I will take my chance of that," he returned, obstinately. But Althea had not finished all she had to say.
"We used to know him so well in the old days; he was constantly at Kitlands. No, I know you and Gwen never saw him there. You were living abroad those two years. But Thorold Chaytor knew him. I was thinking that all this masquerading might lead to awkward complications by and by."
"Nonsense!" he returned, quickly. "What makes you so faint-hearted? My dear cousin, there will be no complications at all." But Althea shook her head almost sadly.
"Listen to me," he went on, with increased animation. "It is a pretty little comedy in real life, and full of dramatic situations. I am enjoying my incognito immensely; it is the best bit of fun I have had since poor old Ralston died. In Cleveland Terrace I am Monsieur Blackie; I adore the name—it suits me down to the ground." Then, as Althea laughed, he took hold of her arm in a coaxing fashion.
"Althea, you are a good creature—you must promise to keep my secret for a little while. I have made all my plans and prepared my dénouement, and I shall want your help in carrying it out. No hints to Gwen, no treasonable correspondence! Gwen is a good girl, but her honesty is almost clumsy—it is yea, yea, and nay, nay, with her and Jack too. My masquerading, as you call it, would simply shock her. Now I have promised Miss Mollie to bring her sister to our box, and I must keep my word."
Perhaps Moritz's voice changed as he said this, but Althea looked at him rather earnestly.
"She is beautiful as an angel," she said, in a low voice. "Take care of yourself, Moritz." But only a flash of his eyes answered her. Certainly Althea looked very grave when she re-entered the box.
Mr. Ingram had warned Mollie that there must be no stage embrace, so she had to content herself by squeezing Waveney's hand at intervals.