I was silent, and looked at my toes, wondering what was best to say. Certainly I had made a promise to Monk to be silent, provided he fulfilled certain conditions. He had done so, and therefore my lips were sealed. Then I recalled the fact that I had limited the time of concealment to a fortnight and thus, in all honor, I was now free to tell the truth. It seemed necessary to do so at the moment, as no other course was open to me. Mabel was a most pertinacious young woman, and would never leave things alone until her doubts were set at rest. Moreover, Gertrude was looking at me inquiringly, as she had noticed my obvious embarrassment. "Cyrus," she asked, and I raised my eyes, "what does this mean?" "It's a long story," I said weakly. "Oh," Mabel walked up to me, "then there is a story. Just you tell it." She sat down with a determined air. "I don't move from here until I know how Mr. Marr's photograph comes to be here under the name of Mr. Monk." There was no help for it. I had to speak out and make the best I could of a most uncomfortable situation. "Mr. Walter Monk goes by that name in Burwain," I blurted out, "but in London he is known as Mr. Wentworth Marr." "Well I never!" Mabel drew a long breath and looked at Gertrude, who had sat down, and was staring hard at me. "Why has my father two names?" she asked apprehensively. "Oh, there's nothing wrong," I said hastily, "he is Wentworth Marr by Act of Parliament." "Perhaps he is a millionaire also by Act of Parliament," said Mabel sarcastically. "Can you say that he is, Cyrus?" "Papa is not a millionaire," put in Gertrude hastily. "All he has is this house and five hundred a year." "Oh," Mabel drew another long breath, "and he gave Aunt Lucy to understand that he was a rich man." "Did he give her to understand that he was actually a millionaire?" I asked. "Well no, not exactly. Aunt Lucy exaggerates. But he did say that he had no end of money and asked her permission to pay his addresses to me." "To you!" cried Gertrude, her color coming and going; "why, I thought that you were engaged to Mr. Weston." "I am in love with Mr. Weston," said Mabel straightforwardly, "but I am not engaged to him, although I may be. I refused him once, and my aunt wished me to marry you--that is, Mr. Marr!" She paused, then spread out her hands in a foreign fashion, "I can't understand what it means." "Cyrus understands," said Gertrude, and her voice sounded cold. "Perhaps you will explain, Cyrus." "Willingly," I said, nerved to desperate coolness, "but you will understand in your turn that I was bound by a promise made to your father not to say anything if certain conditions were fulfilled. "Was that fair to me?" asked Mabel angrily. "Perfectly fair," I snapped. "I learned the truth when I met Mr. Marr at Lady Denham's house. Then I recognized him as Mr. Monk, and afterwards I had an explanation with him."