“Listen, Katherine,” he answered. “I am glad you believe your father innocent. The faith you have is the faith a daughter ought to have. I do not want to hurt you, but I must tell you the truth—I do not share your faith.”
“You refuse, then, because you think him guilty?”
He inclined his head. “The evidence is conclusive. It is beyond my power, beyond the power of any lawyer, to clear him.”
This sudden failure of the aid she had so confidently counted as already hers, was a blow that for the moment completely stunned her. She sank back in her chair and her head dropped down into her hands.
Blake wiped his face with his handkerchief. After a moment, he went on in an agitated, persuasive voice:
“I do not want you to think, because I refuse, that I am any less your friend. If I took the case, and did my best, your father would be convicted just the same. I am going to open my heart to you, Katherine. I should like very much to be chosen for that senatorship. Naturally, I do not wish to do any useless thing that will impair my chances. Now for me, an aspirant for public favour, to champion against the aroused public the case of a man who has—forgive me the word—who has betrayed that public, and in the end to lose that case, as I most certainly should—it would be nothing less than political suicide. Your father would gain nothing. I would lose—perhaps everything. Don’t you see?”
“I follow your reasons,” she said brokenly into her hands, “I do not blame you—I accept your answer—but I still believe my father innocent.”
“And for that faith, as I told you, I admire and honour you.”
She slowly rose. He likewise stood up.