'I defy the whole world,' cried she, 'to affix the slightest imputation on his character.'
'Surely,' said I, 'you cannot pretend ignorance of the fact, that his lordship had the character of being—I trust, more from misfortune, than from inherent depravity; for your ladyship well knows that man, frail man, in a moment of temptation, perpetrates atrocities, which his better heart afterwards disowns.'
'But his character!' cried she. 'What of his character?'
'Ah!' said I, 'your ladyship will not compel me to mention.'
'You have advanced too far to retreat,' cried she. 'I demand an unequivocal explanation. What of his character?'
'Well, since I must speak plain,' replied I, 'it was that of an—assassin!'
'Merciful powers!' said she, in a faint voice, and reddening violently. 'What does the horrid woman mean?'
'I have at this moment,' cried I, 'a person ready to make oath, that your unhappy husband bribed a servant of my father's to murder me, while yet an infant, in cold blood.'
''Tis a falsehood!' cried she. 'I would stake my life on its being a vile, malicious, diabolical falsehood.'
'Would it were!' said I, 'but oh! Lady Gwyn, the circumstances, the dreadful circumstances—these cannot be contradicted. It was midnight;—the bones of my noble father had just been deposited in the grave;—when a tall figure, wrapt in a dark cloak, and armed with a dagger, stood before the seneschal. It was the late Lord Gwyn!'