"Prisoner at the bar," rejoined the Lord Chief Justice, "'tis not for you to dictate the procedure of justice. 'Tis my duty to hear every witness who hath testimony to lay before this court. You have confessed your guilt, 'tis true, but on such confession the law will not hold you guilty, until you have so been proved; and for the sake of the witnesses who have testified against you, as well as for the sake of justice, we must obtain corroboration of their statements."
Then he turned once more to Papa Legros and graciously bade him to make answer to the questions put by the Attorney-General.
Rose Marie, before she spoke, turned and looked on Michael. Their eyes met across that vast assembly and as in one great vivid flash, each read in those of the other the sublime desire for complete sacrifice.
In a moment Michael understood; in that one brief flash and through the unexplainable telepathy which flew from her soul to his, the truth had burst upon him with the appalling force of absolute conviction.
She, the woman whom he adored, who was a saint exalted in his mind above every other woman on earth, she was about to throw her fair fame, her honour, her purity as a plaything to this crowd of hyena-like creatures, who would fall on the tattered remnants of her reputation and tear its last fragments to shreds.
This she meant to do. This was the grim and sublime answer to the riddle which had so puzzled Michael when first he saw his Rose Marie in this court. She meant to give her honour for his life. She loved him and came here to offer her all—her own, her father's good name, so that he—Michael—should be saved.
The terrible, awful agony of this thought, the mad, tumultuous joy! Here was the moment at last—the one second in the illimitable cycle of time—when if there be mercy in Heaven or on earth, the kiss of Death should bring peace to the miserable wastrel who had in this brief flash of understanding tasted an eternity of happiness.
She loved him and was here to save him! But Heavens above, at what a cost!
He looked round him like some caged beast, determined at all hazards to make a mad dash for liberty.
It could not be! No, no; it should not be! Surely God in Heaven could not allow this monstrous sacrifice; surely the thunderbolts from above would come down crashing in the midst of this mocking, jeering assembly before his exquisite snowdrop dragged her immaculate white skirts in the mire.