The words fell from Barbara Stafford's lips like drops of lead. She seemed to examine every syllable that she might ascertain its exact meaning. A strange expression, half doubt, half satisfaction, stole over her features at last, and she walked on in silence.
The youth spoke again.
"You must not let my words give you a false opinion of Sir William. He is one of the bravest, wisest and most generous men on earth."
Barbara looked up and a glorious smile broke upon the youth.
"You speak warmly, sir."
"Indeed I feel warmly. Sir William has been a benefactor, almost a father, to me. His own son could not—"
"His own son? has—has Sir William Phipps a—I thought he had no son."
"Nor has he, lady," answered Norman, surprised by the sudden energy of her manner. "I was about to say that his own son, had he possessed one, could not have been treated more kindly than I have been."
Barbara Stafford drew a quick breath, and walked on rapidly, making this an excuse for the long silence that followed.
"You have lived with—with the governor some time I believe," she said, at last.