Was that the face that had been hidden from them all these days? It was
not what they had pictured beneath the proud, defiant carriage of its
concealing veil. Was that the face of a determined murderess?
Beautiful it was not as they saw it then, but the elements of beauty lay
unmistable beneath a white mist of horror and of pain, as a lovely
landscape is still lovely at its worst. The face was a thin but perfect
oval, lengthened a little by depth of chin and height of forehead, as
now also by unnatural emaciation and distress. The mouth was at once
bloodless, sweet, and firm; the eyes of a warm and lustrous brown,
brilliant, eloquent, brave--and hopeless!
Yes, she had no hope herself! It was plain enough at the first glimpse
of the deadly white, uncovered face, in the cruel glare of gas. But it
became plainer still as, with sad, unflinching eyes, she watched and
listened while, for the last time, the jurymen answered to their names.
Now they were done. The foreman shifted nervously in his place. In the
overstain of the last dread pause, the crowded court felt hotter and
lighter than ever. It seemed to unite the glare of a gin palace with the
temperature of a Turkish bath.
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