[CHAPTER IV.]
Miss Carleton acknowledged the appearance of her desk-mate on the succeeding morning, by an inclination of the head and a smile; and nothing more passed between them until the hour for Italian. She paused, seeing that Ida retained her seat. "Are you not going in?" she ventured to ask.
"No."
There was a moment of hesitation, and she spoke again. "I would not appear to dictate, but do you not fear Mr. Purcell may construe your non-attendance into disrespect to himself?"
"I fear nothing," was upon Ida's tongue, but her better nature would not allow her to return rudeness for what, suspicion could torture into nothing but disinterested kindness. With a gleam of her former frankness she looked up at her interlocutor, "You do not know as much as I do, or you would understand the inutility of my presence at the trial which comes off this morning. I would avoid a repetition of yesterday's scene. One will suffice for a life-time."
"You met then with insult and injustice. To-day, Mr. Purcell will shield you from both. As a gentleman, and a conscientious judge, he cannot but see that Alboni's attack was uncalled for, and decide against him."
"No man is conscientious when his conscience militates against his purse and popularity."
Miss Carleton seemed shocked, and Ida added, hastily, "Our views upon this, as upon most subjects, are very different, I fancy; therefore, discussion is worse than useless. In this instance, my determination is taken;" and she opened her book.
"I will not attempt to shake it," replied her companion. "But suffer me to hope for a longer conversation at some future time, upon these topics, concerning which you think we differ. There may be some points of agreement, and I, for one, am open to conviction."