"I will tell you, dear," he returned, quietly. "You know, at one time, Gwen and I were very poor. We lived in a pokey little house that we called 'The Tin Shanty.' You shall see it some day, and I think you will own that Ten, Cleveland Terrace, is a mansion compared with it. We were almost at the end of our tether when the death of a cousin made me Viscount Ralston and master of Brentwood Hall and thirty thousand a year." "Oh, Moritz!" and Mollie shivered and hid her face. "I was a lucky fellow, was I not, dear? and I was truly thankful for my good things. I was always very sociable, and fond of the society of my fellow-creatures, and when Gwen married I led rather a gay life. But after a time I got disgusted. Mothers with marriageable daughters made a dead set at me. Before the season was over I could have had my pick of half a dozen beauties. Viscount Ralston, with his thirty thousand a year, was considered a desirable _parti_. Mollie, dear, it fairly sickened me. You know I was an Idealist, and I never could make up my mind to move in the ordinary groove, like other people, and I registered a mental vow that, unless I was loved for myself, I would never marry. When I first met my little Samaritan I had no wish to disclose my title; but it was a mere freak at first to remain incognito, until--until I saw you, my darling. Oh, Mollie, do you remember that day, and how I heard you singing, and discovered Cinderella sitting on the hearth? Shall I tell you a secret, dear? When I left the house that day I said to myself, 'I will move heaven and earth to win that girl for my wife.'" "Oh, Moritz, did you really?" "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.