Never, even in those hours when he had thought most fondly of her, had he dreamt of the depths of her nature, or thought of what she was capable. Now he realised that Mary Bolitho was no ordinary woman, that all along there had been depths in her being which he had never fathomed, knew that she meant what she said.
"No, no, Mary," he repeated, "you must not. If you love me, you will promise me this. You will promise to be silent. You will promise that you will give no hint or suggestion of what you fancied. Besides, I'm guilty, Mary. I'm guilty, Mary. That is, promise me, for the love you bear me."
There were footsteps in the stone corridor outside. It was a warder coming to tell her that her time was up, and that she must leave him.
"Promise me, Mary." He caught her and held her close to him. "Tell me you'll do nothing!" he cried.
"On one condition I will," was her answer.
"What is it?" he asked eagerly.
"That you'll tell the truth before my father and the jury."
"Your father?"
"Yes, did you not know? He is the judge who has to try the case."
"Then, then, Mary, promise me——"