Her
systematic repulses of his blind passion had an explanation other than
that which he had given them. Mr. Belcher thought rapidly while the
formalities which preceded her testimony were in progress.
Every man in the court-room leaned eagerly forward to catch her first
word. Her fine figure, graceful carriage and rich dress had made their
usual impression.
"Mrs. Dillingham," said the Judge, with a courteous bow and gesture,
"will you have the kindness to remove your veil?"
The veil was quietly raised over her hat, and she stood revealed. She
was not pale; she was fresh from the woods, and in the glory of renewed
health. A murmur of admiration went around the room like the stirring of
leaves before a vagrant breeze.
"Mrs. Dillingham," said Mr. Balfour, "where do you reside?"
"In this city, sir."
"Have you always lived here?"
"Always."
"Do you know Paul Benedict?"
"I do, sir."
"How long have you known him?"
"From the time I was born until he left New York, after his marriage."
"What is his relation to you?"
"He is my brother, sir."
Up to this answer, she had spoken quietly, and in a voice that could
only be heard through the room by the closest attention; but the last
answer was given in a full, emphatic tone.
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