She waited a few moments, whilst every spectator there seemed to hear his own heart beat with the intensity of his excitement. Then she began speaking in a firm and even voice, somewhat low at first, but gaining in strength and volume as she proceeded.
"I would have you know, my lords," she said, "that at midnight on the fourteenth day of October, being in the Audience Chamber at Hampton Court Palace, in the company of Don Miguel de Suarez . . ."
She paused suddenly and seemed to sway. Mr. Thomas Wilbraham ran to her, offering her a chair, which she declined with a quick wave of the hand.
"My lords," said Wessex, quietly and earnestly, during the brief lull caused by this interruption, "I entreat you in the name of justice, do not hear this lady; she is excited and overwrought and knows not the purport of what she is saying. . . . You see for yourselves she is scarce conscious of her actions. . . . I have made full confession . . . there rests nothing to be done. . . ."
"Prisoner at the bar," said the Lord High Steward, "I charge you to be silent. Lady Ursula, continue."
And Wessex perforce had to hold his peace, whilst Ursula resumed her tale more calmly.
"Being in company of Don Miguel, who spoke words of love to me . . . and anon did hold me in his arms . . . when I tried to escape . . . but . . . but . . . he would not let me go . . . he . . . he . . . your lordships, have patience with me, I pray you . . ." she added in tones of intense pathos as the monstrous lie she was so sublimely forcing herself to utter seemed suddenly to be choking her. Then she continued speaking quickly, lest perhaps she might waver before the end.
"His Grace of Wessex did come upon us, and seeing me held with violence, I, who was his betrothed, to save mine honour, the Duke did strike Don Miguel down."
There was dead silence as the young girl had finished speaking. Wessex was staring at her, and Mr. Thomas Norton assures us that he burst out laughing, a laugh which the Queen's printer stigmatizes as "heartless and unworthy a high-born gentleman! for truly," he continues, "the Lady Ursula Glynde was moved by the spirit of God in thus making a tardy confession, and His Grace, methinks, should have shown a proper spirit of reverence before this manifestation of God."
But if Wessex laughed at this supreme and palpitating moment, surely his laugh must have come from the very bitterness of his soul. As far as he knew Ursula had told nothing but a strangely concocted lie. To him, who had—as he thought—seen her with the blood of Don Miguel still warm upon her hands, this extraordinary tale of threatened honour and timely interference was but a tangled tissue of wanton falsehoods—another in the long series which she had told to him.