The court gasped in horrified amazement, but the face of Judge Jeffreys was terrible to behold. Always strangely, morbidly sensitive to opposition, or to rebuke from whatever source, the judge lost all control over himself. His eyes seemed starting from his head and glared horribly; his face grew purple and swollen, his lips were drawn back in a fierce snarl. He ground his teeth, and rolled from side to side in his chair, partly in rage and partly in the agony which such rage caused him. His unrestrained fury was horrible to witness. It was as though some fit were upon him, and Barbara shrank involuntarily at the sight of such appalling ferocity. At length he regained some measure of his self-control. "What! Heaven help us," he exclaimed. "Why, this is the very incarnation of rebellion, a very headspring and source of treason. Oh! that such a woman, so young, should be so far gone in iniquity. Beware, madame, beware! I see death standing beside thee——" "Then, my lord, I doubt not ’tis an infinitely preferable vision to that which mine eyes behold," she answered, staring full at him, and goaded into recklessness by an awakening sense of her own danger. For an instant it seemed as if the judge would give way to another paroxysm of rage, but he restrained himself with a supreme effort, and with a calmness that boded even worse for the prisoner than his former fury he turned to the jury and continued: "What say you, sirs? Methinks you can find but one answer as to the prisoner’s guilt." But Barbara’s youth, beauty and courage had not been without effect upon the minds of the jury. Slavish time-servers though they were, they could not without protest see condemnation passed upon a young girl whose only real offence lay in a too-unrestrained tongue. This feeling was readily apparent to the practised eye of the judge and lest it should serve to balk his purpose he added: "The prisoner is young it is true, but what of that? Rebellion must be crushed in the bud, must be slain in the shell or ’twill grow to a most pernicious monster. Come, what is the verdict? Do you find the prisoner guilty or no? Beware, gentlemen, how ye condone guilt; lend no cloak to protect treason." The jury, thus admonished, held out no longer. They found the prisoner guilty, but salved their consciences by commending her to mercy. But ere the chief justice pronounced sentence, a protest came from an unexpected quarter on Barbara’s behalf. Sir William Montague, leaning forward in his seat, addressed the judge in low earnest tones which could not fail to arrest his attention.