He looked at her and did not answer.
"Didn't you ?" she repeated.
"What knife ?" asked Jim Otis, slowly.
"You know what knife! The knife that my brother handed me when I started home from the ball--the knife that I stabbed Lot Gordon with.
Tell me that you saw it, that you saw me take it, here before your mother, and then you must go to New Salem and testify, and set Burr Gordon free! He is in prison for murder, and I am guilty, and they will not believe it.

You must tell them, and they will.

You saw my brother give me that knife." Still Jim Otis, with his white face, stood looking at her, and answered not a word.

His mother, continually opening her mouth to speak, then shutting it, looked first at one, then at the other, with round, dilated eyes, turning her head and quivering all over her soft bulk, like some great agitated and softly feathered bird.
"Why don't you speak ?" demanded Madelon.
"What is it you want me to say ?" said Jim Otis, then, hesitatingly.
"Say?
Say that you saw my brother Richard give me the knife that I did the deed with." Jim Otis stood silent, with his pale, handsome face bent doggedly towards the floor.
"Say so! You saw it!" Still Jim Otis did not speak, and Madelon pressed close to him, and thrust her agonized face before his.

"Have mercy upon me and speak!" she groaned.
"Jim, what does she mean ?" asked his mother, in a frightened whisper.
"Is she out of her head ?" "No; hush, mother," replied Jim.