Miss Cornelia was deathly white; her head shook, her thin, silvery curls fluttered, as if they had caught the infection of her own nervousness. In one hand she grasped her smelling-salts desperately, with the other she revolved in an agitated way a small black fan. A murmur of sympathy ran through the court-room as she took her place. Even the District Attorney seemed sorry for her and put his opening questions with unwonted gentleness. His tone was still bland when he came to the important point--had she noticed anything peculiar in her niece's manner on the morning after the murder?
Miss Cornelia's answer was low, but it was quite audible. "She was--shocked, naturally."
Miss Cornelia's answer was this time still lower, and given with more hesitation. "I--I think so."
"I--I was so upset myself"--began Miss Cornelia.
"No, I--I did not notice," said Miss Cornelia, relieved.
"You thought that her manner was unremarkable, and simply what you might have expected under the circumstances?"
"Yes, I--I thought so," said Miss Cornelia. She added to herself the mental reservation that she had no idea what sort of manner under the circumstances, she should have expected.
The District Attorney assumed a more impressive manner. "Miss Van Vorst," he said, "do you believe in the sacredness of an oath?"
"You would not speak anything but the truth?"
"No," said Miss Cornelia, this time more firmly.
"Then I ask you," said the District Attorney, suddenly drawing himself up to his full height, and fixing his eyes upon her, "I ask you, on your sacred oath, did your niece, or did she not, on the morning after the murder of Paul Halleck, say to you that she had killed him, or words to that effect?"
There was a long silence. Miss Cornelia looked desperately about her; at the Judge, whose face showed more than ever a touch of human sympathy; at Mr. Fenton, white with anxiety, trying to telegraph a hundred things which she could not understand; at the jury, bending eagerly forward; then back at those most interested,--her sister in an agony of suspense, Mrs. Van Antwerp flushed and trembling in her vain desire to intervene. Lastly, Miss Cornelia's haggard eyes sought Elizabeth herself; the girl was sitting white and rigid, motionless as a statue, her hands clenched, her eyes resolutely bent upon the floor. If it was a terrible moment for her; how much worse was it for the aunt who had brought her up, who was now called upon by a refinement of cruelty to destroy what seemed to be her only chance. Oh, for the courage--it seemed to her almost noble!--to utter one good lie! But there were the lynx-like eyes of the District Attorney fixed upon her, there was the oath she had taken, weighing upon her conscientious soul.... Suddenly she felt, with a sense of despair, that her silence had already spoken louder than speech. And, even as the thought passed through her mind, her answer framed itself on her lips and seemed to be uttered without her own volition; one word, barely audible, but caught at once and registered by twenty reporters, while a suppressed sigh went the round of the court-room.