The witness paused again. Ralph was listening with intense eagerness. He was leaning over the rail before him to catch every syllable. When the woman had regained some composure he said quietly,—
“There is a bridge thereabouts that spans a river. Which side of the bridge were you then?”
“The Carlisle side; that is to say, the north.”
The voice of counsel interrupted a further inquiry.
“Pray tell my lords and the jury what else you know, good woman.”
“We should have perished of cold where we sat, but looking up I saw that there was a barn in a field close by. It was open to the front, but it seemed to be sheltered on three sides, and had some hay in it. So I made my way to it through a gate, and carried the children.”
“What happened while you were there?—quick, woman, let us get to the wicked fact itself.”
“We stayed there all day, and when the night came on I covered the little ones in the hay, and they cried themselves to sleep.”
The tears were standing in the woman's eyes. The eyes of others were wet.
“Yes, yes, but what occurred?” said counsel, to whom the weeping of outcast babes was obviously less than an occurrence.