"Your cousin was no more nearly related to him than yourself, Miss Leavenworth; did he never give you any reason for this evident partiality?"
"None but his pleasure, sir."
Her answers up to this point had been so straightforward and satisfactory that a gradual confidence seemed to be taking the place of the rather uneasy doubts which had from the first circled about this woman’s name and person. But at this admission, uttered as it was in a calm, unimpassioned voice, not only the jury, but myself, who had so much truer reason for distrusting her, felt that actual suspicion in her case must be very much shaken before the utter lack of motive which this reply so clearly betokened.
Meanwhile the coroner continued: "If your uncle was as kind to you as you say, you must have become very much attached to him?"
"Yes, sir," her mouth taking a sudden determined curve.
"His death, then, must have been a great shock to you?"
"Very, very great."
"Enough of itself to make you faint away, as they tell me you did, at the first glimpse you had of his body?"
"Enough, quite."
"And yet you seemed to be prepared for it?"
"Prepared?"
"The servants say you were much agitated at finding your uncle did not make his appearance at the breakfast table."
"The servants!" her tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of her mouth; she could hardly speak.
"That when you returned from his room you were very pale."
