"And afterwards?"——
"Yes, she seemed distressed then. I thought," said Miss Cornelia firmly "that she felt very badly indeed when she realized it."
"And there was nothing in her manner that could induce you to believe that she expected it, or knew a thing about it beyond what she read in the papers?"
"Nothing."
With this word, firmly pronounced, Miss Cornelia's ordeal came to an end; she descended white and dazed. Elizabeth leaned over as she returned to her place and pressed her hand with a faint little smile. "It's all right, auntie, I'm glad you spoke the truth." And so the episode passed.
"She really has done no more harm than we expected," Bobby Van Antwerp observed to his wife. "It is one of those things which sound much worse than they really are. After all, what does it amount to? The hysterical assertion of an excited girl! A guilty woman is more careful what she says."
"I will tell Elizabeth," said his wife, in relief, "what you say." But though she found an opportunity after the day's session, to whisper this encouragement into the girl's ear, Elizabeth listened vacantly and did not seem fully to grasp it. The maid's evidence, her aunt's corroboration, had brought up vividly to her mind the danger that existed all the time behind these slow, technical deliberations. That night the horrible waking dream, from which for awhile she had been free, returned more startlingly real than ever, and the face of the Judge who sentenced her was the same face in which, during the long days in the court-room, she had thought she detected some involuntary gleams of sympathy. It had seemed a kind face in the day-time, but in her dream it was inexorably stern.
The next morning, at the trial, her mind did not wander; she kept it resolutely fixed on the evidence. Mr. D'Hauteville was on the stand, and she wondered what more fatal revelations were to be made of her words and actions on that unfortunate morning, when she hardly knew what she said or did. But no new developments were brought out. There was no trace in Mr. D'Hauteville's evidence or his easy, unembarrassed manner of the suspicions which he had been perhaps the first person in town to entertain.
Yes, he had seen Miss Van Vorst on the morning after the murder, and had himself taken her into the studio. Was there anything peculiar in her manner? Certainly; she seemed much distressed, as was natural, he thought, under the circumstances. Had she tried to possess herself of the fatal flask, or of any other incriminating objects, as for instance her own letters? No, most emphatically no. Was it true, as the elevator man had already stated, that she had defended herself against his accusations? He could not remember anything of the kind; certainly he had not accused her, as he had no reason to suspect her.
Mr. Fenton on cross-examination, drew from him a description of her tears, of the fearless way in which she had entered, her apparent indifference to being observed. Was it, Mr. Fenton demanded, the manner of a guilty woman? The witness fully agreed that it was not. And then he left the stand, saying to himself philosophically that all was fair in the cause of a beautiful and unfortunate girl, whom he had admired extremely, and with whom his friend Gerard had been, and might be still, desperately in love.