“God pity me!” she moaned, and sat huddled there, shaken with sobs.
Lionel started at that heart-broken cry. Cowering, he approached her, and Oliver, grim and sardonic, stood back, a spectator of the scene he had precipitated. He knew that given rope Lionel would enmesh himself still further. There must be explanations that would damn him utterly. Oliver was well content to look on.
“Rosamund!” came Lionel’s piteous cry. “Rose! Have mercy! Listen ere you judge me. Listen lest you misjudge me!”
“Ay, listen to him,” Oliver flung in, with his soft hateful laugh. “Listen to him. I doubt he’ll be vastly entertaining.”
That sneer was a spur to the wretched Lionel. “Rosamund, all that he has told you of it is false. I...I...It was done in self-defence. It is a lie that I took him unawares.” His words came wildly now. “We had quarrelled about... about... a certain matter, and as the devil would have it we met that evening in Godolphin Park, he and I. He taunted me; he struck me, and finally he drew upon me and forced me to draw that I might defend my life. That is the truth. I swear to you here on my knees in the sight of Heaven! And....”
“Enough, sir! Enough!” she broke in, controlling herself to check these protests that but heightened her disgust.
“Nay, hear me yet, I implore you; that knowing all you may be merciful in your judgment.”
“Merciful?” she cried, and almost seemed to laugh
“It was an accident that I slew him,” Lionel raved on. “I never meant it. I never meant to do more than ward and preserve my life. But when swords are crossed more may happen than a man intends. I take God to witness that his death was an accident resulting from his own fury.”
She had checked her sobs, and she considered him now with eyes that were hard and terrible.