The prisoner looked in the judge's, and acted on what she saw there. "That is my defense," said she, quietly; and sat down.
If a show of hands had been called at that moment, she would have been acquitted by acclamation.
But Mr. Whitworth was a zealous young barrister, burning for distinction. He stuck to his case, and cross-examined Mercy Vint with severity; indeed, with asperity.
Whitworth. What are you to receive for this evidence?
Mercy. Anan.
Whitworth. Oh, you know what I mean. Are you not to be paid for telling us this romance?
Mercy. Hay, sir, I ask nought for telling of the truth.
Whitworth. You were in the prisoner's company yesterday.
Mercy. Yes, sir, I did visit her in the gaol last night.
Whitworth. And there concerted this ingenious defense.