CONFLICTING IDENTITIES.
On the second day of the inquiry public excitement and interest reached a higher pitch than ever, when it became known that Mr. Mainwaring would occupy the greater part of the morning in refuting the evidence given, and in protesting against the legality of the warrant.
Considering how positive had been the evidence, even of Miss Hildreth's own friends, it was difficult to see what possible line of argument the young lawyer could take, with any surety of success. Mrs. Newbold's testimony had disposed effectually of any doubts as to the identity of Miss Hildreth with that of the governess at the Folly—Adèle Lamien—and with this fact established irrefutably, was not Miss Hildreth's complicity in the murder of Stevan Lallovich a foregone conclusion?
The suborning of Miss Hildreth's particular friends against her had certainly been a master stroke on Mr. Munger's part; how could John Mainwaring confute such a mass of convicting testimony? Of course he was bound to make a brave fight for his client; but—and here the public shrugged its shoulders collectively—they were sorry for him, and sorry for the poor figure he must inevitably cut; and then went to work to show their sorrow by discussing Patricia's guilt as a proved premise, and her probable fate only a question of time.
John Mainwaring had once again sought Miss Hildreth, and, with every argument he could bring to bear, every pleading of rhetoric and common-sense, entreated her to reconsider her decision, and loose him from that promise of reservation respecting one point in her confession.
But Patricia was not to be moved one jot or tittle. She heard him to the end in silence, sitting, as Philip had last seen her, at the little table, her hands clasped upon it, and leaning slightly forward. Her face looked worn and sad, her eyes pathetic in their weariness, but the beautiful lips were set in firm decision, their expression one of dauntless courage and endurance.
The sweet, pungent perfume of the Maréchal Niel roses, grouped together in a tall glass vase, filled the heavy atmosphere with overpowering sweetness. She waited until John Mainwaring had quite finished speaking, and then said, slowly, and with the musical notes of her voice less reverberant than usual:
"No, Mr. Mainwaring, I cannot alter my decision; I cannot give you leave to drag my poor secret out into the light of day; not, believe me, on my own account, but on his. To you only have I opened my whole heart—you alone know my weakness and my strength. For my own part, I should care very little how much was known of my motives; but for him—for Philip Tremain—I could not bear the thought and live, that, through me, and my love, he should be exposed to public ridicule. Ah, Mr. Mainwaring, was it for nothing, do you think, that I sat through those long, terrible hours yesterday, and heard the murmurs of the crowd, their open comments, their cruel innuendoes, their still more cruel laughter? Do I not know how eagerly they would seize upon my poor secret, and, tearing it limb from limb, dissect it and discuss it, in their cold, cruel, analysing fashion, until even the garment of reverence that clothes all love, however poor and mean, was torn from it, and it lay revealed—a poor denuded passion in tatters? Do you think he could bear that? Do you think Philip Tremain could hold up his head against such disgrace? Would he not despise and hate the one who brought it upon him, and would he not have reason to cast from him for ever all memory or recollection of such an one? Could I plead anything in extenuation to him—then? No; better, far better, the worst fate that can befall me than to clear myself in the eyes of the world, at the expense of sinking for ever in the estimation of him, to gain whose love I have placed myself in so terrible a position."
John Mainwaring made no reply; indeed, what answer could he make to such passionless reasoning as this? Whenever he was brought face to face with Patricia, and listened to her clear, calm voice, he felt himself carried away by the very attitude of her pleading. He saw things only from her point of view, and was ready to acquiesce and agree with her, however over-strained he considered her arguments. But when he was away from her, and without the radius of her personal influence, he was apt to anathematise himself in unparliamentary language, and to wish Miss Hildreth's selection of a lawyer had fallen on some one less susceptible to impressions.
"Since you give me no option, Miss Hildreth," he said presently, somewhat sullenly, "I must perforce make the best of my material; but, I warn you, my reasoning will sound very weak after yesterday's testimony, and Munger is sure to pounce upon its weakest point, in substantiation of which I have nothing to advance—positively nothing."