“You don't mean to say he's going to treat you just like one of the rest” she exclaimed.
“I really do not know,” answered Richard; “but I think he would hardly enjoy the thought of Sir Richard Lestrange over a bookbinder's shop in Hammersmith or Brentford!”
“Sir Richard! You do not mean—?”
Her face grew white; her eyes fell; her hand trembled on Richard's arm.
“What is troubling you, dearest?” he asked, in his turn perplexed.
“I can't understand it.” she answered.
“Is it possible you do not know, Barbara?” he returned. “I thought Mr. Wingfold must have told you!—Sir Wilton says I am his son that was lost. Indeed there is no doubt of it.”
“Richard! Richard! believe me I didn't know. Lady Ann told me you were not—”
“How then should I have dared put my arms round you, Barbara?”
“Richard, I care nothing for what the world thinks! I care only for what God thinks.”