There was a force within Sir Sanpeur's eyes
Sir Torm dared not resist "Speak on," he said.

"Your wife, my lord, is here, and in my care,
She came to me scarce knowing what she did,--
Wounded, and driven to a wild despair
By your quick anger, which has stamped its seal
Upon the perfect beauty of her face.
The cause of that fierce blow she told me not;
Be what it may, I know full well, my lord,
It could not merit such a harsh retort
To wife whose loyalty and troth to you
Have been the marvel of the court; whose name,
Her beauty notwithstanding, has been held
As high from stain as she has e'er held yours.
She has not failed to you until this hour,
When she was not herself for one brief space,
Mad with the fever in her heated brain
You long have known I loved her,--none could well
Withhold the tribute of his life from her,--
And you must know, my lord, beyond all doubt,
I loved her with a love that honoured you
In thought, in word, in purpose, and in deed.
She came to me because her trust in me
Was absolute as knowledge that my love
Was measureless I would not plead, Sir Torm,
Excuse for sin; alas! I know her act
Was most unworthy of her truer self.
But this I say--he should not blame her most
Who drove her to this deed against herself.