“Montfort—young Lord de Montfort!” replied John; “I know it was, for he said it twice over.”
“And what didst thou answer?”
“What should I answer? I said we had no Montforts here; for they were all dishonoured traitors, slain and outlawed.”
Richard could not restrain a sudden indignant exclamation that startled the boy. “Every one says so! My father says so!” he returned, somewhat defiantly.
“Not of the Earl,” said Richard, recollecting himself.
“He said every one of the young Montforts was a foul traitor, and man-sworn tyrant, as bad as King John had been ere the Charter,” repeated John hotly, “and their father was as bad, since he would give no redress. Thou knowst how they served us in Somerset and Devon!”
“I have heard, I have heard,” said Richard, cutting short the story, and controlling his own burning pain, glad that the darkness concealed his face. “No more of that; but tell me, what said this stranger?”
“Thou thinkest it was really a stranger, and not thy wraith?” said John anxiously. “I hope it was, for Dame Idonea said if it were a wraith, it betokened that thou wouldst not—live long—and oh, Richard! I could not spare thee!”
And the little fellow came nestling up to his friend’s breast in an access of tenderness, such as perhaps he would have disdained save in the darkness.
“Did Dame Idonea see him?” asked Richard.