His mind was far away, busy with a thousand wild conjectures, a thousand improbable suggestions. The whole of the past ten years appeared to roll themselves out before him, full to overflowing with dark suspicions, unassailable doubts, maddening possibilities. The poison distilled by Miss James's smooth tongue had done its work; how could he tell what those past years might cover, what deed or crime be hidden in their protecting folds?
Ten years lay between him and the Patricia of his youth; was his faith in her so unshaken as to admit of no room for doubt? Ah, there lay the sting! He did doubt, and in that lay the keenest torture of this terrible moment. Indeed, as he thought of her mocking raillery, of her pronounced indifference, her assumed cynicism and misanthropy, he felt there was room for doubt, there was room for suspicion, there was room for condemnation. Would to God, that he could proclaim aloud a like faith in her innocence, a like belief in her unsullied past, a like valour in her defence, as did Miss Darling! Would to God he had but the memory of her—pure and untainted—as she was ten years ago in which to trust, and by which to fight for her!
For indeed, he knew it would come to that; he should fight for her, yes, inch by inch, even though the game was a losing one. He would give her of his best, he would bring to bear all his possessions of legal acumen, brilliant pleading, forensic argument; she should not fail or be beaten down, if his strength and his reputation counted for anything.
He had loved her—yes—and he loved her now; he knew it; better perhaps in her hour of humiliation than in that of her triumph; and for that love's sake he would spend and be spent in her behalf. And yet, ah yet, there must be ever and always resting between him and her that
"Little rift within the lute,
That ever widening, makes the music mute."
Meantime Miss Darling, standing where he had left her, watched him keenly. The eyes beneath the broad brim of her hat were soft and gentle, the tears still lay upon her cheeks. Instinctively she recognised the anguish of the man before her, and she respected it, looking on with reverent but unspoken sympathy. Presently she moved quietly across the room and approached him; he paid no attention to her; apparently he had forgotten her very existence. She put one hand timidly on his arm.
"Will you come?" she said. "Oh, will you come with me—to Patricia? Only think how long she has waited! Only think of Patricia—our Patricia—in prison on so vile a suspicion!"
He looked down upon her, and at the hand resting on his arm; his face was drawn and aged, his eyes dark with suffering.
"Yes, I will come," he said; "I will go with you. My God, only to think of it! Patricia—Patty—in prison, and for murder!"
He took up his hat mechanically, and followed her as she led the way down the dimly lighted stairs, their footsteps echoing drearily behind them. And so together they passed on and out of the dark building, and were swallowed up in the greater darkness of the night.