“S’life! the business becomes every moment more interesting,” whispered Lady Sarah. “Will he make that sly slut own her misconduct in open court?”
“If she blush at her slip from virtue, it will be a new sensation in a London law-court to see the colour of shame,” replied Sir Ralph, behind his perfumed glove; “but I warrant she’ll carry matters with a high hand, and feel herself every inch a heroine.”
Angela came into the court attended by her waiting-woman, who remained near the entrance, amid the close-packed crowd of lawyers and onlookers, while her mistress quietly followed the official who conducted her to the witness-box.
She was dressed in black, and her countenance under her neat black hood looked scarcely less white than her lawn neckerchief; but she stood erect and unfaltering in that conspicuous station, and met the eyes of her interrogator with an untroubled gaze. When her lips had touched the dirty little book, greasy with the kisses of innumerable perjurers, the Serjeant began to question her in a tone of odious familiarity.
“Now, my dear young lady, here is a gentleman’s liberty, and perhaps his life, hanging on the breath of those pretty lips; so I want you to answer a few plain questions with as plain speech as you can command, remembering that you are to tell us the truth, and the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Come, now, dear miss, when you left your father’s house on the night of July 4, in this present year, in Lord Fareham’s company, did you go with him of your own free will, and with a knowledge of his purpose?”
“I knew that he loved me.”
A heart-breaking groan from Sir John Kirkland was hushed down by an usher of the court.
“You knew that he loved you, and that he designed to carry you beyond seas?”
“Yes.”
“And you were willing to leave your father’s custody and go with the defendant as his paramour?”