‘I should like to beg the forgiveness of this innocent woman, whom I have so wronged . . . upon whom I have caused this misfortune to befall. I would beg her to believe that I have never ceased to love her, that I have not passed a single day without knowing remorse and regret for all I have perpetrated upon her. Should she be sent to her death on account of my follies, then I should rather die in her stead, for I could never lead a life upon this earth in the knowledge of my deeds, nor could I live without the reassurance of her love . . .’

All eyes were now upon me. I trembled. A stream of tears poured forth from me. Had the situation not demanded such a performance, it would have come entirely of its own accord.

‘Dear Tyrone!’ I cried. ‘With the last breaths in my body I shall declare my eternal love for you!’

Such a howl burst from the gallery! Had you heard it, you would have believed yourself upon the benches at Drury Lane, rapt in the final acts of some great drama. The screams, the hollers!

‘She is innocent!’ ‘Free the prisoner!’ ‘Preserve them! Save the lovers!’

The crowd then began to push in on Allenham, pulling at his coat, throwing their arms about him, kissing his face.

‘He is an angel come to save her!’ ‘Have mercy upon them! Have mercy!’

My beloved wore something akin to a perplexed smile, his eyes not moving from mine.

The president and the clerk called for order. Once the room had fallen into a semblance of it, he looked anxiously at the jury.

‘Citizen jurors, do you wish now to retire to consider a verdict?’

I shut my eyes tightly. All relief, what small sparks of joy had enlivened my breast, instantly dropped away.

There was a faint sound of whispering as they conferred, as they discussed the merits of ending my life. I would not open my eyes to see them make their pronouncement. I did not wish to witness the expression upon Allenham’s face when they cried my death across the hall.

‘No, citizen president. We have arrived at a verdict.’

‘Then speak it plainly.’

‘In the name of Liberté, Égalité and Fraternité, and in the defence of this Republic, the jury do not believe the prisoner Henrietta Lightfoot to be guilty of a conspiracy against the Revolution. Neither are we convinced of the evidence to suggest that she assisted the traitoress Thérèse Bertrand in her endeavours. Therefore we recommend to the president of the tribunal that she be acquitted and freed.’

When I opened my eyes, they were dazzled by light. The brilliance of late afternoon continued to illuminate the round window upon the opposite wall as the sounds of sobs and sighs soared through the room. I held my gaze there for a moment and drew in breath. When I lowered my eyes once more, he was gone.

Chapter 29