She did not stop to consider that, if this were the sole cause of Pia’s trouble, she—Pia—was unquestionably taking a very exaggerated view of it. It never occurred to Trix to do so. If she had considered the matter at all, it would have been merely to realize that Pia’s attitude towards it was remarkably like what her own would have been. She would have known, had she attempted analysis of the subject, that she herself was frequently troubled about trifles, or what at any rate would have appeared to others as trifles, where any friend of hers was concerned. Her friends’ actions and her own, in what are ordinarily termed little things, mattered quite supremely to her, most particularly in any question regarding honour. The smallest infringement of it would be enough to cause her sleepless nights and anxious days. Therefore, without attempting any analysis, she could perfectly well understand what she believed Pia’s point of view to be. And her present distress was, that, in view of her promise, she could do nothing definite to help her.
She could not show her Doctor Hilary’s standpoint in the matter, since it was not permissible for her to give the smallest hint that she was acquainted either with it, or with the whole business at all. She could not even hint that she believed Doctor Hilary to be the person concerning whom Pia was troubled. She could only take refuge in generalities, which, with a definite case before her, she felt to be a peculiarly unsatisfactory proceeding. Yet there was nothing else to be done. It was more than probable that Pia was in the same kind of cleft stick as herself, and that therefore direct discussion of the matter was out of the question.
Still stroking Pia’s hand, Trix spoke slowly.
“Pia, darling, what I am going to say will sound very poor comfort, I know. But it’s this. Isn’t it just possible that you could give the—the person concerned the benefit of a doubt? Even if it seems to you that he has acted a lie, and therefore been something of a fraud, mayn’t there be some extraordinarily good reason, behind it all, that circumstances are preventing him from explaining? Such queer things do happen, and sometimes people have to appear to others as frauds, when they really aren’t a bit. If you were ever really friends with the person—and you must have been, or you wouldn’t care—I’d just say to myself that I would trust him in spite of every appearance to the contrary. Perhaps some day you’ll be most awfully sorry if you don’t. And isn’t it a million times better to be even mistaken in trust where a friend is concerned, than give way to the smallest doubt which may afterwards be proved to be a wrong doubt?”
Pia was silent. Then she said in an oddly even voice,
“Trix do you know anything?”
Trix flushed to the roots of her hair. Pia turned to look at her.
“Trix!” she said amazed.
“Pia,” implored Trix, “you mustn’t ask me a single question, because I can’t answer you. But do, do, trust.”
Pia drew a long breath.