He struggled with strong emotion. His brow darkened, his face worked convulsively. At last he seemed to have resolved on a settled purpose.
"Who knows this hellish secret besides thyself?" he asked, his penetrating glance resting on her face.
"None but thee," she said, meeting his eye with a wary look, as if anticipating danger from the tone of his voice.
"To every human eye, then, but thine, I am Lord of Lester?"
"Who of mortal mould should suspect thee to be other than he, when she who bore thee not believes thee to be the fruit of her womb."
"Thou wilt swear this?"
"I say it."
"'Tis enough. Does this fisher's boy know the secret of his birth?"
"No!"
"Does the old man?"