'Forgiven thee, Deb?' asked Kingston, paling. 'Hast thou forgiven me? I did thee grievous wrong; I knew my words were base and false, my noble one!'
'Ah, speak not of that, for heaven's sake! We were mad, King, and both maybe have been to blame in our past lives. We know all now; there is no secret between us.'
'No. If I know of Master Sinclair's death, you know of Mistress Blancheflower's wedding.'
'Dost know all, King?' asked Deborah suddenly, and tears and laughter were lurking in her upraised eyes.
'Nay; what more? Naught will surprise me.'
'Charlie has cut himself off from England, and enlisted with the Irish rebels. Master Sinclair, little knowing my brother would kill him, has left me all his wealth and lands.'
Kingston started; he had frowned at the first tidings, but the last overclouded his brow like night. 'I knew naught of all this,' he answered calmly.
'Yes, King,' continued Mistress Fleming, with her old gaiety, 'I am a great lady now! It seems so strange for poor Deborah Fleming to be an heiress. But bethink ye: this will save Charlie; we will have him back soon!'
'Ay; it will save Charlie,' muttered Kingston thoughtfully.
'Why, you are not glad at my good fortune! Father, dear father, when he is himself, will be right glad to hear it. King, you once told me you would be proud of me if I were a grand lady. Now, ye have not a word o' congratulation to offer me, though I am Lady of Lincoln!'