"
"You speak of mercy and vengeance in a breath, Sir John." She was
growing calm, her agitation was quieting and a grim sternness was
replacing it.
He made a gesture of impatience. "What good purpose could it serve to
take him to England?" he demanded. "There he must stand his trial, and
the issue is foregone. It were unnecessarily to torture him."
"The issue may be none so foregone as you suppose," she replied. "And
that trial is his right."
Sir John took a turn in the cabin, his wits all confused. It was
preposterous that he should stand and argue upon such a matter with
Rosamund of all people, and yet she was compelling him to it against his
every inclination, against common sense itself.
"If he so urges it, we'll not deny him," he said at last, deeming it best
to humour her. "We'll take him back to England if he demands it, and let
him stand his trial there. But Oliver Tressilian must realize too well
what is in store for him to make any such demand." He passed before her,
and held out his hands in entreaty. "Come, Rosamund, my dear! You are
distraught, you...."
"I am indeed distraught, Sir John," she answered, and took the hands that
he extended. "Oh, have pity!" she cried with a sudden change to utter
intercession. "I implore you to have pity!"
"What pity can I show you, child? You have but to name...."
"'Tis not pity for me, but pity for him that I am beseeching of you.
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