"I' faith, that is the truth," she answered, quietly. "The only truth. There was no other way I could think of—and I had the lines by heart. None knew me. All thought 'twas thee, Darby. See, see! when I was fair encased in that Kendal green suit o' thine, why even Dad could not have told 'twas not thy very self! We must be strangely alike o' face, dear heart—though mayhap our souls be different."
"Nay!" he exclaimed, "'tis past belief that thou should'st take my part! My brain whirls to think on't. I saw thee yesternight—the day before—this noon-day—an' thou wert as unruffled as a fresh-blown rose. Naught was wrong with thy colour, and neither by word or sign did'st give me an inkling of such mad doings! 'Gad!—if 'tis true it goes far to prove that a woman can seem most simple when she is most subtle. An' yet—though I like it not, Deb—I know not what to say to thee. 'Twas a venturous, mettlesome thing to do—an' worse—'twas vastly risky. We be not so alike—I cannot see it."
"Nor I, always," she said, with a shrug, "but others do. Have no fear of discovery, one only knows beside Dame Blossom, and they will keep faith. Neither fear for thy reputation. The people gave me much applause, though I played not for that."
Darby threw himself into a chair and dropped his face in his hands.
"Who is't that knows?" he asked, half-roughly, after a pause. "Who is't, Deb?"
"He who played Romeo," she said, in low tone.
"Sherwood?" exclaimed Darby. "Don Sherwood! I might have guessed."
"Ay!" replied the girl. "He only, I have reason to believe." A silence fell between them, while the young fellow restlessly crossed to the window again. Debora went to him and laid her hand upon his shoulder, as was her way.
"Thou wilt not go thy own road again, Darby?" she said, coaxingly. "Perchance 'tis hard to live straightly here in London—still promise me thou wilt not let the ways o' the city warp thy true heart. See, then, what I did was done for thee; mayhap 'twas wrong—thou know'st 'twas fearsome, an' can ne'er be done again."
"'Twill not be needed again, Deb," he answered, and his voice trembled. "Nay, I will go no more my own way, but thy way, and Dad's. Dost believe me?"