“Your father—and who is he?” was the abrupt question with which he answered this.
“I know, but have not the right to tell!”
“But how came you by the knowledge?”
“My heart lay, for a little time, against his, and they understood each other. I knew that the same blood beat in both, certainly as if an angel had told me, I want no other evidence,” was my prompt answer.
“And you crave this knowledge in proof, that it may render his death easy?”
“Yes!”
“And for no other reason?”
“That I may know myself and those who gave me life, that is all!”
“But Lord Clare is rich!” said the man, fixing his keen eyes upon me. “Did you think of that?”
“I did not mention Lord Clare,” was my answer, given in astonishment at the reckless way in which he handled my secret.