"See you not, your honor, that her mind wavers--that she speaks and
thinks wildly? I am satisfied that though she might say something, your
honor, in accounting for my strange flight, yet, as that constitutes but
a small feature in the circumstances against me, what she can allege
will avail me little. Press her no farther, therefore, I entreat you.
Let her retire. Her word can do me no good, and I would not, that, for
my sake and life, she should feel, for a single instant an embarrassment
of spirit, which, though it be honorable in its character, must
necessarily be distressing in its exercise. Proceed with your judgment,
I pray you--whatever it may be; I am now ready for the worst, and though
innocent as the babe unborn of the crime urged against me, I am not
afraid to meet its consequences. I am not unwilling to die."
"But you must _not_ die--they will not--they _can not_ find you guilty!
How know they you are guilty? Who dares say you are guilty, when _I_
know you are innocent? Did I not see you fly? Did I not send you on your
way--was it not to escape from murder yourself that you flew, and how
should you have been guilty of that crime of which you were the destined
victim yourself? Oh, no--no! you are not guilty--and the dagger--I heard
that!--that is not true--oh, no, the dagger,--you dropt it--"
The eye of the inspired girl was caught by a glance--a single
glance--from one at the opposite corner of the court-room, and that
glance brought her back to the full consciousness of the fearful
development she was about to make.
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