"It would be wrong for you to rush into danger," she replied calmly. "If you are freed from danger, then I will claim your help again. But I have friends, and I am not afraid."
I looked into her eyes as she spoke, and I saw that no fear was expressed there. She did not seem to realize her position, and yet her words belied her apparent ignorance of the danger by which she was surrounded.
"You say that your knowledge concerning the Pretender is of importance," I said, after a pause.
"Yes."
"Is it right to keep it secret?"
"I do not understand."
"If Charles comes to England, it will mean civil war," I cried; "it will mean that the whole country will be in turmoil. If the Pretender succeeds in his design, a reign of ignorance, bondage, and oppression will curse the country."
"Tell me your reasons for saying this," she replied.
"Are you a Catholic?" I asked.
"I do not know," was her answer. "I suppose so. I was trained in a convent school, but I have been told that my father hated the Catholic religion, and I know that he would hate nothing that was good. I am but an ignorant girl; I think I must have purposely been kept ignorant." This she said plaintively.