“Then,” cried Trevor, in a fury, “how dare you say what you did?”
“Because, my boy, it is the truth. You are my flesh and blood.”
“You are mad!” exclaimed Trevor. “Loose my wrist, woman, or I shall hurt you.”
He looked sharply round, but there was no help at hand; for his first impulse was to tie her wrists, and have her carried to the house. But she prisoned one of his the tighter, by placing her other bony hand a little higher.
“I’m not mad, Richard,” she said, quietly; “and when you hear me, you will see that you must mind me; for, at a word from me, all your riches would be swept away, and you might change places with your keeper.”
“Humphrey!” ejaculated Richard, his brain in a whirl of doubt. “Tell me—what do you mean?”
“Only this,” said the woman, hoarsely. “That Mrs Trevor and I had sons almost together. Humphrey and you were the two boys. Do you understand?”
“No,” said Richard, fiercely. “Go on.”
“I got my sister, Dinah Price, from Caerwmlych to come and be nurse for both, for I was in the house—the maid Jane, as they called me then. Do you want to hear more?”
“Go on,” said Richard, in a hoarse whisper.