"I fled lest thou shouldst do a deed of blood thy hand might rue. I fled not for myself, but for thee."
"You need not fear me now. There exists no longer any motive for secrecy," he said, gloomily.
"How mean you?" she eagerly asked.
"Ere to-morrow's sun, 'twill be in every boor's mouth, from Castle Cor to Kinsale, that I am no longer Lord of Lester!"
"Speak—explain!" she said, hoarsely, grasping his arm with both hands, and breathing quick and hard.
"I have told the Lady Lester that he whom she thought her son was not her son," he firmly replied.
"Ha! thou—thou hast told thy shame? Speak, Robert More—have you breathed to mortal ear what I have told thee of thy birth?" she demanded, with fearful energy of speech and manner.
"I have. 'Tis known to every servitor from hall to stable!"
"Didst give thy name?"
"Robert, son of Hurtel of the Red-Hand."