"Yes, love, and then and there I decided to be Mr. Ingram. I had no difficulty in preserving my incognito. I bound over my cousins to secrecy. It was only your illness that complicated matters. I found, then, that it was necessary to take your father and Noel into confidence; but you and Waveney were to be kept in ignorance. Gwen is telling her at this present moment. But now, Mollie, I have finished my confession, and I only want to hear from your lips that Monsieur Blackie is forgiven."
"There is nothing to forgive," she faltered. "I think I am glad that I did not know. But oh, Moritz, there is one thing that makes me sorry." And now there was a painful flush on Mollie's cheek. "You know what I mean. I wish for your sake that I was not lame."
"My poor little darling," he returned, compassionately. "But I think I love you all the more for your helplessness. Thank Heaven, my wife will never have occasion to tire herself. The cream-coloured ponies are in the stable, Mollie, and when we are married I mean to give you riding-lessons."
And then, for very joy and gratitude, Mollie burst into a flood of happy tears.
"Oh, it is too much, too much," she sobbed. "I do not deserve such happiness. Moritz, you must teach me everything. I want to be worthy of this lovely home and you." And then shyly, but with exquisite, grace she lifted the kind hand to her lips.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
EVERARD YIELDS THE POINT.
"Down on your knees,
And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love."
As You Like It.
"He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural."
Twelfth Night.