“Fortunately it is Sunday. We have the day before us. I am going up by the two-o’clock. I’ve sent my bag down to the station. I’ve already been on to my lawyer by telephone and he will see me at his private house this afternoon. In my opinion we have nothing at all to fear. The King’s Proctor will not move on such evidence as she has to offer, she has overreached herself. We ought to have her in gaol by tomorrow night.”
“In gaol!”
“That is where she should be. She frightened you ... she shall go to gaol for it. Margaret, will you write to your bankers ... let me write....”
“No!” she said again.
“Sweetheart!” and he caressed her.
“No. Gabriel, listen to me. I am overwhelmed because I broke my promise to you, was not candid. But though I am overwhelmed and unhappy....”
“I will not let you be unhappy....”
She brushed that aside and went on:
“I am not sorry for what I have done. There is not a word of truth in what she says. As you say, I have admitted guilt, being innocent. Gabriel, I was innocent before, but racked, tortured to prove it. Here I have only paid five hundred pounds. Oh, Heaven! give me words, the power to show you. I am pleading with you for my life. For my life, Gabriel ... ours. Let the cheque go through, give her another if necessary, and yet another. I don’t mind buying my happiness.” She pleaded wildly.
“Hush! Hush!” He hushed her on his breast, held her to him.