Ryder. Madam, I meant no more than that it was your private apartment upstairs.
Prisoner. You contrived to make the gentlemen think otherwise.
The Judge. That you did. 'Tis down in my notes that she received the pedlar in her bed-chamber.
Ryder (sobbing). God is my witness I did not mean to mislead your lordship: and I ask my lady's pardon for not being more exact in that particular.
At this the prisoner bowed to the judge, and sat down with one victorious flash of her grey eye at the witness, who was in an abject condition of fear, and hung all about the witness-box limp as a wet towel.
Sergeant Wiltshire saw she was so thoroughly cowed she would be apt to truckle, and soften her evidence to propitiate the prisoner; so he asked her but one question.
"Were you and the prisoner on good terms?"
Ryder. On the best of terms. She was always a good and liberal mistress to me.
Wiltshire. I will not prolong your sufferings. You may go down.
The Judge. But you will not leave the court till this trial is ended. I have grave doubts whether I ought not to commit you.