Hearts and Masks

"I know I haven't done anything especially gallant to-night; no

fighting, no rescuing, and all that. They just moved me around like

a piece of stage scenery."

A smile flashed and was gone. It was a hopeful sign.

"But the results are the same. You have admitted to me that you are

neither engaged nor married. Won't you take me on--on approval?"

"Mr. Comstalk, it all seems so like a horrid dream. You are a brave

man, and what is better, a sensible one, for you submitted to the

inevitable with the best possible grace. But you talk of love as

readily as a hero in a popular novel."

"I never go back," said I. "It seems incredible, doesn't it, that I

should declare myself in this fashion? Listen. For my part, I believe

that all this was written,--my Tom-foolery in Mouquin's, my imposture

and yours, the two identical cards,--the adventure from beginning to

end."

Silence.

"Suppose I should say," the girl began, looking out of the window,

"that in the restaurant you aroused my curiosity, that in the cellars

my admiration was stirred, that the frank manner in which you expressed

your regard for me to--to the burglar--awakened--"

"What?" I cried eagerly.

"Nothing. It was merely a supposition."

"Hang it; I do love you!"

"Are you still the Capuchin, or simply Mr. Comstalk?"

"I have laid aside all masks, even that which hides the heart."

She turned and looked me steadily in the eyes.

"Well?" said I.

"If I took you on--on approval, what in the world should I do with you

in case you should not suit my needs?"

"You could return me," said I laughing.

But she didn't.