"Be silent," cried Master Leslie. "Our God is a God of truth, and I will no longer suffer a falsehood to be believed."
"Whose wife is she then?"
"She is no man's wife."
There was a silence like unto the silence of death in the room as he spoke, every one there seeming to be afraid to breathe.
"I speak the truth, Sir William," went on Master Leslie. "As you know I am not a man to utter light words. You have had occasion to say so more than once as we have sat side by side in this Chapel of Herne, the justice hall of Bedford. So you may e'en take that down, Master Cobb"—this to the clerk of the peace—"for what I have told you is the truth."
I looked at Mistress Constance's face again as he spoke, and for the first time I saw fear in her eyes. She evidently dreaded something which was of a fearful nature, and I sorely pitied her. Yet was my heart filled with such a joy as I had never known before. In truth it seemed to me that a great burden had rolled from my life, for it was no longer a sin to love her. I no longer hated Sir Charles Denman as I hated him before, even although my mind was filled with a great wonder at the meaning of it all.
I could see that the presiding justice was so astonished that he could not speak, while Master Cobb, the clerk of the peace, seemed busily writing, only to scratch out what he had written.
"I pray you, Master Leslie," went on Sir William Franklin, the presiding magistrate, "to speak plainly on this matter. You say that this woman is not the wife of Sir Charles Denman, and that she is no man's wife. Do you also say that it is not she who hath attempted the life of General Monk?"
"I do say it, Sir William; she hath attempted no man's life, and is as innocent of the whole matter as a babe but last night born."
"Then what meaneth all this turmoil? Why hath the warrant been issued? Why hath she been captured and brought hither?"