The District Attorney, more moved than he had deemed it possible for him to be, made her a low bow and withdrew slowly to the door.
"I leave you, then, till to-morrow," he said.
"Till to-morrow."
Long after he had passed out, the deep meaning which informed those two words haunted his memory and disturbed his heart. Till to-morrow! Alas, poor girl! and after to-morrow, what then?
XXXIV.
WHAT WAS HID BEHIND IMOGENE'S VEIL.
Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down.—Henry IV.
THE few minutes that elapsed before the formal opening of court the next morning were marked by great cheerfulness. The crisp frosty air had put everybody in a good-humor. Even the prisoner looked less sombre than before, and for the first time since the beginning of his trial, deigned to turn his eyes toward the bench where Imogene sat, with a look that, while it was not exactly kind, had certainly less disdain in it than before he saw his way to a possible acquittal on the theory advanced by his counsel.