Althea smiled, but she knew it was useless to pursue the argument. Moritz and Gwendoline were both utterly unmanageable when they had a crotchet in their head. They cared nothing about the world's opinion, and as for Madam Grundy, or any other madam, they had simply no regard for them. Already Viscount Ralston was considered a most eccentric person, and sundry matrons had admonished their daughters on no account to contradict him. "He is a little odd, certainly," one of them remarked, "but I am told he is really clever and original, and that sort of thing wears off after a time. Your father is very much taken with him, so you may make yourself as agreeable as you like to Lord Ralston."
"And when may I ask him to marry me?" returned the daughter, to whom this Machiavellian speech had been addressed; for Lady Ginevra had plenty of spirit, and was clever enough to read between the lines. "Mother was terribly put out," she informed her younger sister afterwards. "She lectured me for ten minutes on what she called my coarseness and vulgarity; but, as I told her, I prefer vulgarity to hypocrisy. 'You and father want me to marry Viscount Ralston,' I told her, 'because he has Brentwood Hall and a fine house in town and thirty thousand a year, and it does not matter one bit if I care for him or not; if he holds out the sceptre to me I am to touch it.' But, thank heavens, Jenny, these are not the Dark Ages, and though mother frowned and stamped her foot, there was no 'Get thee to a nunnery!'" And Lady Ginevra laughed and went off to put on her habit, for it was the hour when she and her father rode in the park.
Althea had a word to say before she let the subject drop.
"At the theatre you spoke of needing my help, Moritz. I hope you will let me know when my assistance is wanted."
"Oh, I was going to speak to you about that," he returned, quickly. "You see, my dear cousin, that there are circumstances in which a man is bound not to be selfish. Miss Mollie"—how his voice always softened as he said the name!—"is so simple and childlike; she knows so little of the world, and her life has been so retired, that I dare not hurry matters. She must learn to know and trust me before I can venture to make my meaning plain."
"Yes, I can understand that."
"Gwen quite agrees with me, but all the same I think—at least, I hope—that Monsieur Blackie's probation will soon be over, but Gwen and I have all our plans in readiness. What do you say to a picnic party at Brentwood about the middle of next month?"
"My dear Moritz, are you crazy? Really, an Idealist in love is a terrible being. A picnic in the middle of February! Do you want the three grim sisters, snow and hail and frost, to be among your guests?"
"Pshaw! nonsense!" he replied, impatiently. "There are lovely spring-like days in February. Besides, with the sort of picnic I mean, weather will not signify. You had better hear my programme first, Althea."
"Oh, go on," she returned, in a resigned voice. "I will try to forget my common-sense while I listen to you."