There was a pause, and the white cheek crimsoned, and the heavy eyelids fell over agonised eyes.
“I went willingly—because I loved him;” and then with a sudden burst of passion, “I would have died for him, or lived for him. It mattered not which.”
“And she has lied for him—has sworn to a lie—and that to her own dishonour!” cried Sir John, beside himself; whereupon he was sternly bidden to keep silence.
There was no intention that this little Buckinghamshire gentleman should be indulged, to the injury of a person of Lord Fareham’s wealth and consequence. The favour of the Bench obviously leant towards the defendant.
Fareham’s deep tones startled the audience.
“In truth, your Honour, the young lady has belied herself in order to help me,” he said. “I cannot accept acquittal at the cost of her good name.”
“Your lordship has pleaded not guilty.”
“And his lordship’s chivalry would revoke that plea,” cried the Counsel; “this is most irregular. I must beg that the Bench do order the defendant to keep silence. The witness can stand down.”
Angela descended from the witness-box falteringly, and would perhaps have fallen but for her father’s strong grasp, which clutched her arm as she reached the last step.
He dragged her out of the close-packed court, and into the open Hall.