"Yes."
I longed to ask further questions, but refrained from doing so.
"Peter Trevisa believed that if I told him what I knew his son would be able to make use of it. The father is very ambitious for his son. He imagines that if he were to communicate important knowledge to the King it would mean preferment—perhaps knighthood."
"I see his plot."
"I refused to marry his son."
"Yes."
"I told him that even were his statements as to my father's marriage true, I would rather be penniless—than be bought."
I do not think she meant it, but her words hurt me like a knife-thrust.
"After that he changed his ground of attack," she went on quietly; "he said that if I would tell him what I knew of Charles Stuart's plans, his secret should die with him. He represented this as my duty. He said I might be saving the country, as well as giving his son Peter the greatest chance of his life. After this he went on to say that it was a shame for me to be robbed of my rightful heritage because of an unjust law."
"And after that?" I broke in eagerly.