"The curtains parted and disclosed the form of Imogene. 'I am coming,' she murmured, and stepped forth."—(Page 402.)
"I am coming," she murmured, and stepped forth more like a faintly-breathing image than a living woman.
His first glance at her face convinced him she had taken her resolution. His second, that in taking it she had drifted into a state of feeling different from any he had observed in her before, and of a sort that to him was wholly inexplicable. Her words when she spoke only deepened this impression.
"Mr. Ferris," said she, coming very near to him in evident dread of being overheard, "I have decided to tell you all. I hoped never to be obliged to do this. I thought enough had been revealed to answer your purpose. I—I believed Heaven would spare me this last trial, let me keep this last secret. It was of so strange a nature, so totally out of the reach of any man's surmise. But the finger of God is on me. It has followed this crime from the beginning, and there is no escape. By some strange means, some instinct of penetration, perhaps, you have discovered that I know something concerning this murder of which I have never told you, and that the hour I spent at Professor Darling's is accountable for this knowledge. Sir, I cannot struggle with Providence. I will tell you all I have hitherto hidden from the world if you will promise to let me know if my words will prove fatal, and if he—he who is on trial for his life—will be lost if I give to the court my last evidence against him?"
"But, Miss Dare," remonstrated the District Attorney, "no man can tell——" He did not finish his sentence. Something in the feverish gaze she fixed upon him stopped him. He felt that he could not palter with a woman in the grasp of an agony like this. So, starting again, he observed: "Let me hear what you have to say, and afterward we will consider what the effect of it may be; though a question of expediency should not come into your consideration, Miss Dare, in telling such truths as the law demands."
"No?" she broke out, giving way for one instant to a low and terrible laugh which curdled Mr. Ferris' blood and made him wish his duty had led him into the midst of any other scene than this.
But before he could remonstrate with her, this harrowing expression of misery had ceased, and she was saying in quiet and suppressed tones:
"The reason I did not see and respond to the girl who came into the observatory on the morning of Mrs. Clemmens' murder is, that I was so absorbed in the discoveries I was making behind the high rack which shuts off one end of the room, that any appeal to me at that time must have passed unnoticed. I had come to Professor Darling's house, according to my usual custom on Tuesday mornings, to study astronomy with his daughter Helen. I had come reluctantly, for my mind was full of the secret intention I had formed of visiting Mrs. Clemmens in the afternoon, and I had no heart for study. But finding Miss Darling out, I felt a drawing toward the seclusion I knew I should find in the observatory, and mounting to it, I sat down by myself to think. The rest and quiet of the place were soothing to me, and I sat still a long time, but suddenly becoming impressed with the idea that it was growing late, I went to the window to consult the town-clock. But though its face could be plainly seen from the observatory, its hands could not, and I was about to withdraw from the window when I remembered the telescope, which Miss Darling and I had, in a moment of caprice a few days before, so arranged as to command a view of the town. Going to it, I peered through it at the clock." Stopping, she surveyed the District Attorney with breathless suspense. "It was just five minutes to twelve," she impressively whispered.
Mr. Ferris felt a shock.