“Yes.”
“Did you see Peter Junior after they fought?”
“No. If I had seen him, I could have told everybody they were both alive and there would have been no––”
“Look at the prisoner. Can you tell the jury where the cut on Richard Kildene’s head was?”
“Yes, I can. When I stood in front of him to bind it up, it was under my right hand.”
From this point the examiner began to touch upon things Betty would gladly have concealed in her own heart, concerning her engagement to Peter Junior, and her secret understanding with his cousin, and whether she loved the one or the other, and what characteristics in them caused her to prefer the one over the other, and why she had never confided her preferences to any of her relatives or friends. Still, with head erect, Betty flung back her answers.
Bertrand listened and writhed. The prisoner sat with bowed head. To him she seemed a veritable saint. He knew how she suffered in this public revelation of herself––of her innocent struggle between love and loyalty, and maiden modesty, and that the desire to protect him and help him was giving her strength. He saw how valiantly she has been guarding her terrible secret from all the world while he had been fleeing and hiding. Ah, if he had only been courageous! If he had not fled, nor tried to cover his flight with proofs of his death! If he had but stood to his guns like a soldier! He covered his face in shame.
As for Richard, he gloried in her. He felt his heart swell in triumph as he listened. He heard Amalia Manovska murmur: “Ah, how she is very beautiful! No wonder it is that they both loved her!”
While he was filled with admiration for her, yet his heart ached for her, and with anger and reproach against himself. He saw no one but her, and he wanted to end it all and carry her away, but still yielded to his father’s earnest plea that 481 he should wait. He understood, and would restrain himself until Larry was satisfied, and the trial ended. Still the examination went on.