“At least I am so no longer,” he blurted out.
“I thank Heaven for that, Richard; for your life is very dear to me. But it would ill become you to make such use as this of the knowledge you came by in that manner. It were a Judas's act.” He would have interrupted her, but her manner dominated him. “You will leave this letter with me, Richard,” she continued.
“Damn me! no...” he began.
“Ah, yes, Richard,” she insisted. “You will give it to me, and I shall thank you for the gift. It shall prove a weapon for my salvation, never fear.”
“It shall, indeed,” he cried, with an ugly laugh; “when I have ridden to Exeter to lay it before Albemarle.”
“Not so,” she answered him. “It shall be a weapon of defence—not of offence. It shall stand as a buckler between me and Mr. Wilding. Trust me, I shall know how to use it.”
“But there is Blake to consider,” he expostulated, growing angry. “I am pledged to him.”
“Your first duty is to me...”
“Tut!” he interrupted. “Blake feels that he owes it to his loyalty to lay this letter before the Lord-Lieutenant, and, for that matter, so do I.”
“Sir Rowland would not cross my wishes in this,” she answered him.