‘Dulcimer!’ shrieked her ladyship, whose ears had caught the name.
The young people turned and stared at each other in blank dismay. Dick shrugged his shoulders, and was the first to recover his sang-froid. The moment had come for him to take the bull by the horns.
‘Dulcimer!’ again exclaimed her ladyship in a tone of hopeless bewilderment, that was at once both ludicrous and pathetic, as she glanced at the dismayed faces around her.
‘Even so, Lady Renshaw. I am Richard Dulcimer, at your service.’ He spoke as quietly as though he were mentioning some fact of everyday occurrence.
‘You, that Richard Dulcimer—that impudent pretender—that—that cockatrice, who used to follow my niece about in London wherever she went! No, no’—peering into his face—‘I cannot believe it. You are amusing yourself at my expense.’
‘Nevertheless, unless I was changed at nurse, I am that cockatrice, Richard Dulcimer. As any further attempt at concealment would be useless, if your ladyship will permit me, I will enlighten you in a few words.’
She only stared at him, breathing very hard, but otherwise showing by no sign that she heard what he was saying.
‘I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Wynter on several occasions in London,’ resumed Dick. ‘Whether your ladyship believes it or not, I fell in love with her, hopelessly and irremediably. I am a poor man, and you scouted my pretensions, and forbade your niece ever to speak to me again. It is not in my province to blame your ladyship for doing that which you deemed to be for Miss Wynter’s advantage; but it by no means followed that I should fall in with your views. I heard that you and Miss Wynter were coming to this place, and I determined to follow you. Had I not made some change in my appearance, you would at once have recognised me, and my plans would have been frustrated. I took off my beard and moustache, dyed my hair and eyebrows, donned a clerical costume which I happened to have by me for another purpose, and trusted to my good fortune to escape detection. The rest is known to your ladyship.’
‘The rest—yes. You said that your name was Golightly, and you introduced yourself to me as the son of the Bishop of Melminster, which shows plainly what a wicked wretch you must be.’
‘Your ladyship must excuse me if I set you right as regards the facts of the case. I said that my name was Golightly. So it is—Richard Golightly Dulcimer; but I never said, nor even hinted, that I was the son of Bishop Golightly. It was your ladyship who arrived at that conclusion by some process of reasoning best known to yourself.’