"And now, your honour," his deep voice rang out, "I come, perhaps, to the most inconsequent and incomprehensible part of any that Miss Hildreth has played in this curious and complicated history of a crime. I have shown you how she, actuated by an enthusiastic and Quixotic chivalry, imperilled her own life to help and succour a sister-woman, who, in a moment of mad passion, had committed such a crime as put her life in danger. Miss Hildreth, with a courage few men could emulate, had not only planned her flight, but accompanied her in it, and accomplished it with safety. It was a daring and hazardous undertaking; but Miss Hildreth considered neither the danger nor the hazard, so long as there was a chance of escape for that cruelly-wronged woman, who had struck down the villain who ruined her.
"The crime committed by Adèle Lamien was an offence against the laws of man, and being such, she stood a criminal and fugitive in the eyes of men. But what should be said of the false-hearted traitor who had committed a far graver moral crime, when he killed for ever the soul and heart of the woman he had called his wife? That was a question for a higher tribunal than any mere earthly one to answer, and before that eternal justice Stevan Lallovich had entered, with the guilt of moral murder fresh upon him.
"As he had already told his honour, Miss Hildreth parted from Adèle Lamien in Paris, and although she kept up her disguise and name until she reached America, it was only to gain time for the poor fugitive, and to give a false scent to the police. On reaching New York Miss Hildreth landed under her own proper name, and proceeded at once to her country place in the White Mountains, where she remained for several weeks without acquainting her friends with the fact of her return home. This desire on her part to remain quiet and unnoticed did not arise, as Mr. Munger would have them believe, from any criminal wish to keep her whereabouts unknown, but was the outcome of purely personal motives—motives he was not at liberty to divulge; but this much he would say, these motives had nothing whatever to do with Adèle Lamien's movements; Miss Hildreth had indeed heard nothing from, or of, that lady since their parting.
"During this month or six weeks of solitude Miss Hildreth was engaged upon a very delicate and purely personal matter, the successful result of which she had very deeply at heart, and in the carrying out of which she was willing to adopt any measures, no matter how compromising.
"Upon the nature of this work his lips were sealed, but he was willing to stake his honour as to the probity and lawfulness of Miss Hildreth's intentions. In the furtherance of this object circumstances arose which, in Miss Hildreth's opinion, made it necessary for her to adopt another character than her own; to enter, in fact, upon a little play-acting, in which she personated the sole character. What more natural than that she should make use of the name and disguise of the lady she had so lately protected? As Adèle Lamien—a foreigner and dependent, with the suspicion of a tragic past to give effect to the present—she could enter without fear of detection upon the delicate mission she had marked out for herself.
"The danger of such a personation never occurred to her; Miss Hildreth was not one always on the outlook for danger-signals. She desired to borrow Adèle Lamien's name and story, the latter with modifications, for a certain length of time, and she did so, without thought of any possible evil arising therefrom. But, to carry out her project, Miss Hildreth was obliged to take some one person into her confidence, some one who, knowing the why and wherefore of this masquerading, would keep her secret intact while aiding and abetting her. And this some one she found in Mrs. Newbold. They had all heard Mrs. Newbold's statement; she acknowledged frankly that Miss Hildreth and her governess, known as Adèle Lamien, were one and the same, that she had always known this to be the case, and had given her countenance and support to the deception. But here he would remind them of Mrs. Newbold's refusal to give any reason for her collusion with Miss Hildreth, or any explanation of the latter's motives. Like himself, Mrs. Newbold's lips were sealed by a promise; she could not reveal her friend's motives, even though that revelation were to save her from a graver situation than the present one."
Once more John Mainwaring paused, and once more a sympathetic murmur ran through the crowd.
He had struck the right chord in his opening sentences, and from the moment of that favourable beginning he carried the harmony of his audience along with him.
Even Judge Anstice leant forward in his chair and followed him point by point with a keen and appreciative interest. Mr. Munger snorted and tossed back his leonine head, and Vladimir Mellikoff's dark face grew sterner and more set, while both of them acknowledged that the young lawyer had hit upon a productive mine, and was working it to good advantage.
Patricia Hildreth changed neither her attitude nor expression, only the crimson stain upon her cheeks grew deeper as Mr. Mainwaring entered upon more delicate ground.
Philip Tremain never took his eyes from her face; gradually, and at first in faint gleams only that grew steadier as his memory added the one touch needful, the true meaning of John Mainwaring's defence was breaking upon him, and with the overwhelming rush of the revelation he felt all the old love and tenderness for Patricia spring afresh to life within his heart. He longed to snatch her up from out that curious, eager crowd, and, carrying her away to some spot of safety and seclusion, lay her head upon his heart and bid her be for ever at peace.
Meantime John Mainwaring had begun again.
"Mrs. Newbold, your honour, having consented to sustain Miss Hildreth in her adopted character, the two ladies laid their plans andmodus operandi, and when the invited guests assembled at the Folly, in the month of April, they found there a foreign lady whose appearance and manner were unmistakably suggestive and interesting, to whom they were introduced as Mdlle. Lamien, the new governess, and whose strange story Mrs. Newbold related one evening during dinner. And so well did Mrs. Newbold guard her friend's secret, that not even her husband was entrusted with it.
"Mr. Tremain was one of the guests, and his attention was immediately attracted to the quiet, retiring foreigner, an attraction which soon developed into a stronger sentiment. Mr. Tremain had told them, that he found no point of resemblance between Miss Hildreth and Mdlle. Lamien; there were similar tones in their voices, but that was no uncommon coincidence: he had, however, never seen Mdlle. Lamien in broad daylight, though this fact made no impression upon him at the time; how positive had been Mdlle. Lamien's influence over him was shown by his subsequent proposal of marriage to her. He, Mr. Mainwaring, felt convinced that were he but free to speak frankly at this point he could show sufficient reason for this proposal; reasons arising from an outside source, and which unfortunately he was not at liberty to explain.
"Miss James had said that she suspected Miss Hildreth from the first; Miss James was certainly a very clever young lady, for she admitted entertaining similar doubts of Mdlle. Lamien. She, however, if they excepted Count Vladimir Mellikoff, would seem to have been the only one who had suspected a play within a play. Miss Hildreth's arrival was announced for the 2nd of May, and from the time of her advent,in propriâ personâ, Mdlle. Lamien disappeared. Miss James had not failed to make a note of this coincidence. Mr. Tremain's proposal to Mdlle. Lamien, whose reappearance took place after hisadieuxto Miss Hildreth, was made on the afternoon of the 5th of May, and from that day he had heard nothing from her, although he considered himself in honour bound to her. Nor had he again seen Miss Hildreth up to his return from Maine early in September, when he was met with the astounding news of her arrest. Here again, unfortunately, he was debarred from frankly explaining Miss Hildreth's conduct at this juncture.
"She had carried out her project to a certain limit, and then it would seem had capriciously abandoned it; for they must not lose sight of the fact, that, though Mr. Tremain believed himself to be addressing his proposals to Mdlle. Lamien, it was in reality Miss Hildreth who received them. On this point he would make no comment, he was not in a position to do so.
"A good deal of stress had been laid upon the two handkerchiefs, the one found in the drawing-room at the Folly, the other left in the apartment of the murdered Stevan Lallovich, both of which bore the same embroidered initials. To his mind there was nothing incriminating in this, the coincidence was a strange one, but nothing more. What was more likely than that during one of the frequent visits paid by Miss Hildreth to the villa outside St. Petersburg, she should have taken in mistake one of the unfortunate Adèle Lamien's handkerchiefs, and, on seeing her error, have remarked it carelessly with her own initials; or that after a time the bit of muslin should have found its way back to its rightful owner? As to the second handkerchief, that was a very simple riddle; Miss Hildreth had in her possession many articles of dress belonging to Adèle Lamien, having required them in her first disguise as that lady. The note-paper was easily explained in the same way; he could himself prove that the penmanship was Miss Hildreth's, though slightly disguised. As to the conversation which took place in Mrs. Newbold's boudoir, and the latter lady's evident agitation during it, he would only ask his honour to consider the decidedly awkward position in which Mrs. Newbold was placed. She knew what the consequences would be were Miss Hildreth's Quixotic protection of the real Adèle Lamien to become known, and she already had her suspicions regarding Count Mellikoff: she alone rightly estimated the danger run by Miss Hildreth in personating one who was a fugitive from justice.
"As to the part Miss James had played in the whole matter, he should be sorry to call it by its right name; he believed there was no enmity so bitter or treacherous as the enmity of a jealous woman. Might not the motive power of Miss James's conduct be found in the one word—jealousy? However, with that he had nothing to do. He begged again, and finally, to submit to his honour's consideration the point at issue; namely, the proved identity of Miss Hildreth, not with the governess known as Adèle Lamien, but with the real Adèle Lamien, the wife and murderer of Stevan Lallovich, which identity he submitted, had in no particular been established. The warrant of arrest must therefore fall to the ground."
Up to a certain point Mr. Mainwaring felt that he carried his public with him; but beyond that point—when he came to the equivocal position held by both Miss Hildreth and Mrs. Newbold—he knew himself to be losing touch again. He could calculate his audience's pulse to a fraction of a beat, and he was aware of the exact moment when their allegiance fell away from him, and veered back again to the opposing scale.
It was as he had warned Patricia it would be; the instant he touched delicate and doubtful ground and advanced a theory in support of which he could produce no proofs, that instant theentente cordialefailed him. The public likes to believe in its own strict integrity, and its abhorrence of anything not honest and above-board, and to have so extravagant a story as this masquerading of Miss Hildreth's thrust down its throat, accompanied by such lame excuses as sealed lips and secret promises, was not at all to its taste.
Therefore when Mr. Munger sprang to his feet, he but expressed the public's opinion when he told his honour "that Mr. Mainwaring must gauge them by a fool's measurement, if he expected them to swallow such a cock-and-bull story as that he had expounded. If Miss Hildreth had not some awkward secret to conceal, why should she bind the tongues of both her lawyer and her friend? What possible reason could she have for concealment, unless the work she was engaged upon would not bear official scrutiny? Mr. Mainwaring had begun boldly enough, and had not spared his insinuations as to the good faith of those opposing him; but he must say he failed to see how Mr. Mainwaring had established even one point in his elaborate theory.
"He had submitted that while Miss Hildreth was Adèle Lamien, still she was not Adèle Lamien. Such reasoning sounded to him very like a page out of 'Alice in Wonderland,' where everything was not what it seemed, and seemed not what it was. Why did not Mr. Mainwaring bring forward proofs to establish his theory of there being two Adèle Lamiens? Were they to meekly accept this melodramatic story of Miss Hildreth's heroic championship of the wretched woman who had killed her lover, and not ask for proofs? Both Mr. Mainwaring and Mrs. Newbold had made a great show of acknowledging Miss Hildreth as Adèle Lamien, the governess; and then they asked his honour to accept the absurd tale of Miss Hildreth's personating Adèle Lamien, only to further some foolish plot of her own devising, some personal intrigue that would not bear investigation.
"Either Miss Hildreth was or was not Adèle Lamien-Lallovich. She had been proved to be the Adèle Lamien of the Folly, and had been acknowledged by Mr. Mainwaring as such, and yet now, forsooth, he wanted to prove that while she was the one Adèle Lamien, she was not the real Adèle Lallovich—not the Simon Pure article. It was about as logical a deduction as that of a child, who told you it either rained, or it did not rain; it did not rain, therefore it rained! Altogether too much time had been spent in such foolish arguments; on his side time was valuable, would his honour, therefore, make known his decision; a decision which could only be made in one way, and end this farce by declaring in favour of the validity of the warrant, and the identity of the Adèle Lamien, therein named, with the lady calling herself Miss Hildreth."
Mr. Munger's harsh voice threw out his words energetically, while he clenched each sentence by a single hammer-like beat of one hand upon the other. He had sprung up so suddenly, and poured out his rough eloquence in such a stream, no one had an opportunity of interrupting; he finished with another contemptuous snort and settled himself down in conspicuous defiance.
With the calling of the noon recess, the case against Patricia Hildreth had assumed a more ugly and threatening aspect than ever.
When the Court re-assembled, however, a change in the moral temperature had evidently taken place.
John Mainwaring entered with a certain assured step, and with almost a smile upon his sombre countenance.
The audience, quick to notice the bent of any straw in this stream of sensationalism, became at once aware of the slight increase of definite self-possession in Mr. Mainwaring's bearing, and whispered amongst themselves that the young lawyer had "caught on" to something new since his speech of the morning, and was looking mighty pleased and smiling over it.
So soon as the room was reduced to order, Mr. Mainwaring arose, and, addressing Judge Anstice, begged to be permitted to substantiate his statements of the morning through one witness only.
"He had," he said, "been jumped upon so summarily by his learned friend, Mr. Munger, almost before he had finished his few remarks—he could not dignify them by calling them a speech—that he had had neither time nor opportunity in which to introduce thisvivâ voceevidence. He might be somewhat out of order in wishing to do so now; but, as to that, the entire examination had been conducted on purely informal lines. They had all understood why it had been so conducted, for, where such grave issues were at stake, it was not to be cavilled at if a few exceptions were given and taken."
As he understood, the present position of affairs stood in this wise. Could he prove that there were two Adèle Lamiens, or rather that Miss Hildreth, in personating Adèle Lamien, had in truth portrayed the only Adèle Lamien, and that the whereabouts of that lady were known to him and could be substantiated? Should he establish this, he supposed the charge against Miss Hildreth would be withdrawn. Doubtless the story he had related to them, did sound incredible and marvellous; but they must bear in mind that it was not given to every one to understand and appreciate the higher gifts of heroism and courage. Mr. Munger had clearly pointed out that what was required were proofs, proofs and nothing but proofs. As he had said, truly, either Miss Hildreth was, or was not, the woman, Adèle Lamien, wanted by the Russian police. If she was proved not to be Adèle Lamien, then she would be released from her present painful position, and would go out from this examination without a stain upon her character. On the other hand, if this point was not established, but remained doubtful, or if she was proved circumstantially to be Adèle Lamien, then her fate was a hard one indeed; she had only the tender mercies of the Russian law to look to.
Mr. Munger had seen fit to taunt him with his frank acknowledgment of Miss Hildreth's personation of Adèle Lamien; he had, indeed, made very merry over his childish logic. He could not hope to emulate Mr. Munger's flow of rhetoric, still he could and would meet Mr. Munger's demand for proofs, by introducing certain conclusive testimony. He would put aside all extraneous matter, whether personal or otherwise, and stick to one or two points only. Was there another Adèle Lamien, beside Miss Hildreth, who was the real criminal, and if so, where was she to be found? If he established these two points he should consider the question of identity definitely disposed of. He would now produce his sole and only witness.
At the sound of his name the Italian, Mattalini, stepped forward, and with the slightest shrug of his shoulders, gave a meaning smile, as his eye caught and held that of his master Vladimir Mellikoff.
At the sight of this paid servant of the Imperial Chancellerie appearing against him, Vladimir Mellikoff gave a perceptible start, and for the first time his belief in the ultimate success of his mission wavered. He was, however, too seasoned a diplomatist to show any outward signs of his inward disquietude, and, save for that momentary impulsive change of expression, his dark, cold face remained as inscrutable as ever.
Following Mr. Mainwaring's lead, the Italian began by telling how and why he had first become attached to the service of Count Mellikoff. He had been sent by the Imperial Chancellerie about a month ago to wait upon Count Mellikoff as valet. He had not been told in so many words that he was also to act as a spy upon his master, but he knew this was what was expected of him. It was the system employed by the Chancellerie; each one of their agents had a double, whose business it was to report to headquarters the other's every action, movement, or word: it was a fine system, because it distributed power irrespective of rank.
From something he heard at Petersburg, before joining Count Mellikoff, he had reason to believe that the Chancellerie were not altogether pleased with the Count's manner of procedure; he was, therefore, despatched to look after Count Vladimir, and report upon his progress. He had not been long in New York before he made up his mind that Count Mellikoff was working on a wrong scent; he knew the nature of the Count's mission, and he very soon discovered that the Count was not showing his usual discretion in this case; he was, in fact, taken in by a lay of circumstances, and by the assurances of the young lady, Miss James. He had endeavoured, on one occasion, to speak to the Count upon the subject; but he had been told to hold his tongue; a piece of advice he strictly adhered to, until such a time when his not holding it would most injure the Count. No one told him to hold his tongue twice, for nothing.
Yes, he was ready solemnly to swear that the young lady, Miss Hildreth, was in no way identical with the fugitive, Adèle Lamien, the murderer of Stevan Lallovich. He had at one time often seen Adèle Lamien; there was a strong resemblance between her and Miss Hildreth; but he knew for a certainty that Miss Hildreth was not Adèle Lamien, and that Adèle Lamien was, at the time he quitted Russia, in Petersburg, where she still remained. He did not know this when he first came to Count Mellikoff; but he did know it for a fact now, and he was quite ready to bear out this statement; and, what was more, he could prove that Count Mellikoff was not unaware of this fact; that he had indeed been warned by the Chancellerie of Adèle Lamien's presence in Petersburg, which had been sworn to by a member of the council, though, so far, they had not been able to verify the report. He could not say why Count Mellikoff had paid no heed to the warning and discredited it; it had come straight enough to him—Mattalini—and from an unimpeachable source.
Miss James had several times visited Count Mellikoff at his hotel; he had overheard one of their conversations, he had listened purposely; it was the conversation in which the manner of Miss Hildreth's arrest had been planned; it was arranged to take place during the absence of Miss Hildreth's friends. Miss James had urged Count Mellikoff to greater haste in the matter; she had seemed consumed with hatred of Miss Hildreth. Oh, yes, he knew quite well what it meant to hate any one; he hated Count Mellikoff, and was glad to pay him back for some of his haughty insolence. He had known from the beginning of the inquiry that Miss Hildreth was not Adèle Lamien, but he had had no absolute proof of it until that morning. He had gone to Mr. Mainwaring and told him what he was now telling his Excellency. Mr. Mainwaring had asked him for proofs, but he had none then, only the proof of his inward convictions. Mr. Mainwaring told him that they were no good; but within the last hour he had got proof, and that proof he wanted to give up now.
Within the last hour a sea-telegram had come for Count Mellikoff; it was his—Mattalini's—business to receive all telegrams and bring them to the Count; it was not his habit to open and read them first; but of this one the yellow envelope was not stuck down—when an envelope was not stuck down it was no crime to look at the contents. He had done so, and the first words he saw made him glad he had not been a stupid fool of an innocent and stuck down the envelope flap, as for a moment he had thought of doing. The telegram was in cipher, but he knew enough of the Chancellerie cipher to make it out. It was sent by one Paul Patouchki, who was the chief of the Chancellerie Council, and it ran to this effect:
"The woman, Adèle Lamien, arrested this evening in the Nevski. She attempts no defence. Your presence before the Council peremptory. Return immediately."
As the Italian finished he drew out of his pocket a thin, crackling, yellow envelope, indicative of a telegraphic message. He looked at it fondly for a moment.
"Eccelo!" he exclaimed, "'tis a little thing with which to save one woman's life, and yet big enough to kill another!"
Then he handed the missive up to the Judge, and stood waiting further developments.
The sensation caused by the Italian's statement was beyond all precedent; the excitement of the crowd burst all restraints; it seemed as though, having once doubted Patricia Hildreth, they could not now be loud enough in vociferating her innocence.
The clamour lasted but a few seconds; but in that short interval Vladimir Mellikoff caught sight of such a sea of angry, menacing faces, and heard the echo of such violent threats as to shake even his trained courage, and warn him of the perilous position he should occupy if once that public Nemesis was set loose.
The rage and anger of his own heart knew no bounds. To be duped and done in such a fashion by his own paid assistant; to find out all too late that a spy had been dogging his actions at every step of the way, and that that spy had been sent by the Chancellerie—by Patouchki, his chief, on whose honour he would have staked his own!
This then was his reward, this was Russia's gratitude! A thrust in the dark, a blow from behind, and he was laid low, unable to defend himself or fight for his life. He realised all too well what this failure meant for him—disgrace utter and complete; the Chancellerie never forgot or forgave a false move in the game, any more than it ever remembered the many successes and triumphs achieved for it. To fail once was sufficient, when one had reached so high an altitude as his, and with failure came a downfall more disastrous and engulfing even than that of death.
And Olga? But no, he must not think of her now, or he should go mad. He must forget her, put her by, believe in her, trust her; he must pull himself together, he must not succumb like the veriest novice before this blow. Were not all those cruel faces turned upon him, those hundreds of eyes peering with wonder and delight at him? He must not let them see any fear upon his face, they must not hear a word of cowardice from his lips.
Then he became aware of a single voice addressing him, and the sounds slowly resolved themselves into Judge Anstice's familiar tones, asking him to examine the cablegram, and state if the Italian's translation of the cipher was a correct one.
He took the slip of flimsy paper with a hand that never trembled, and scanned the few bald lines. Mattalini had read them only too correctly, they were confirmation positive of the utter breakdown of all his elaborate structure.
He could have leapt upon the Italian then and there in his blind rage, and struck him to the ground; he could have beaten him senseless and felt a savage joy in each blow he dealt him. Had he not ruined him for ever, not only in the eyes of the Chancellerie, but in those of Olga Naundorff? That was where the lash cut deepest, that was the agony impossible to bear.
And yet, despite all this mad tumult going on within him, he still was conscious of standing up and answering Judge Anstice in his usual controlled voice. The Italian Mattalini had perfectly translated the cipher, the message ran as he had said. A person called Adèle Lamien had been arrested in Petersburg; he should immediately demand further confirmation of the matter; in the meantime he left the custody of Miss Hildreth in the hands of the Bench. He had no statement to make; he had acted throughout in good faith and according to instructions; he would at once communicate what further particulars he received to Judge Anstice; without doubt his Government's Ambassador would stand surety for the integrity of his future movements. He begged to return the cablegram to the keeping of the Bench.
Then he sat down, and after a few moments' whispered conversation with Mr. Munger and Mr. Mainwaring, Judge Anstice rose and withdrew, and the crowd were free to force their way out into the streets, flooded with the golden sunshine, and there to discuss this last change in the day's excitements. And so ended the second day of what, in after years, came to be known as Patricia Hildreth's trial.
When Ivor Tolskoi quitted the presence of Patouchki, he carried with him the remembrance of the chief's troubled face, and almost imperative appeal:
"Find me the woman, here, in Petersburg, and I shall know how to act."
"I will find her," he had replied, and it needed no strong oath or asseveration to convince Patouchki that Ivor would grudge nothing in the fulfilment of this promise.
It was early afternoon when Tolskoi left the Chancellerie; it was long past sundown ere the chief aroused himself from the anxious reverie into which the young man's suspicions and insinuations had plunged him.
Despite the hardness and impregnability of Patouchki's nature, there existed somewhere, deep down in the inner recesses of his rugged heart, a softer spot than he was ever given credit for, and in that remote and hidden nook he had set up the fidelity and friendship of Vladimir Mellikoff, as the one bright sentiment in which to believe and trust. He had watched his career from the outset, and had spared neither influence nor interest to advance the abilities and talents he believed him to possess. He entertained for him a feeling as nearly approaching love as his temperament was capable of experiencing. And he had beheld with concealed delight the increasing regard manifested by his august master towards his favourite. It was owing entirely to his exertions that this last delicate mission had been entrusted to Mellikoff's skill and courage, and he had for once spoken almost with enthusiasm, at the council, of Vladimir's peculiar fitness for the undertaking. He had said to himself that with his success in this Mellikoff's name might be fearlessly put forward for some signal mark of Imperial favour.
It may be imagined then with what proportionate anger and disappointment he listened to Tolskoi's plausible insinuations. They did not lose one feather's weight of value in Ivor's manner of expressing them; the very candour of his words, the collectedness of his bearing, but increased their reasonability; and Patouchki, with his quick perception, realised this, and gave it more weight, perhaps, because of that weakness which he knew existed in his heart for the absent Vladimir.
There is no judge so cruel and relentless as a human heart that owns but one outlet for its affections. Unlike those happier natures who sympathise, and in a manner love all fellow mortals, because of their common humanity and common redemption, this poor starved soul sets all its store on one poor fallible object, and then, when the floods of doubt and mistrust are let loose and sweep away the idol, marring its beauty and exposing its blemishes, it owns no larger creed to fall back upon, and so drifts into the opposite extreme, and welcomes with sardonic pleasure the mocking devils of resentment and retaliation.
It was so with Patouchki. Out of the very affection he had borne Vladimir, sprang now the hydra-headed demon of doubt; and since he could doubt him in one particular, he could doubt him in all. Ivor had set alight such a train of implacability as even he would have hesitated to fire, could he have foreseen its consequences; for with the downfall of Patouchki's perspicuity came his resolve, to punish the one who had thus dared to set at naught his judgment, and who by playing the rôle of deceiver had inflicted on his self-love so dire a wound.
It was well for Vladimir Mellikoff that he could not see the chief's face at that moment, for, as the evening shadows closed around the motionless, lonely figure, sitting so still and rigid, they paused, half afraid to creep about the stern hard countenance, whose eyes gleamed with such passionate fire, whose lips were locked in so firm and cruel a line. And so he sat for hours, his busy fingers idle, his active brain absorbed in bitter contemplation of broken trust and ruined faith.
It had appeared to Ivor an easy and simple task to track and find the poor fugitive, Adèle Lallovich. Petersburg and its environs covered a considerable area, it was true; but these, when compared with Paris or London, sank into insignificance, and yet every day fugitives from justice were hunted down and trapped in those great cities, whose mileage so far exceeded the Muscovite capital.
"It needed but system," so he told himself, with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders at the tactics of the Chancellerie old women. "System and perseverance, and a judicious use of gold," he would back these three against the craft andfinesseof any woman. He therefore set about laying the plan of his operations, being careful, however, to keep himself out of the actual work, and to be recognised in it only as the agent of the Chancellerie.
But day succeeded day, and week followed on week, without the least success attending his efforts. Either he had mistaken a chance likeness in some transient worshipper at St. Isaac's for the fugitive, or else Adèle Lallovich had again made good her escape across the frontier. Each day Patouchki looked at him with the same strange, hard expression, as he asked:
"Have you found her?"
And each day Ivor, with a frown, was obliged to reply:
"Not yet! but I shall do so."
Then the chief would turn away with a grim smile, and Tolskoi would vow with hot intemperance that he would be successful, even if his life were to be the penalty.
And so the summer drew on apace, and Petersburg became a desolate wilderness; empty, save for the thousands of poor souls who toiled on and on, irrespective of the seasons' changes, and whose sole recreation was a walk across the Troitski, or Nicholas bridges, stopping for an instant's prayer before the shrine of the good name-saint, or leaning against the granite parapet, drinking in the languid breeze that came, touched with a suspicion of coolness, from off the grey Neva; or an hour's stroll in the Boulevard-park, shorn now of its aristocratic idlers, but gay enough with the brilliant colours in the costumes of the less favouredmondaines.
The Court had long since flown westward; and after a few weeks' halt at Gatschina, the gentle Tsarina had taken a favoured few of herpersonnel, among whom was Olga Naundorff, and departed for her native Denmark; where, in the dear old home of her childhood, she dropped the restrictions of royalty even as she put off her state robes and jewels, and in a cotton frock and straw hat became a girl again, outvieing even her daughter, the Grand Duchess Xenia, in her happiness and delight.
Neither Patouchki nor Ivor left Petersburg. The former because no place possessed half the charm for him as did the frowning Chancellerie, and his own office within its walls; no music sounded so sweet to his ears as the triumphant clang of thejubilatechimes, or the mournful cadences of themisererebells; no recreation so well pleased him as an hour passed in reviewing the Chancellerie's past achievements, or in building up vast schemes for its future greatness.
And Ivor stayed because his self-imposed task was not yet accomplished, and because he felt the time growing daily shorter, when, unless he could redeem his word and find the woman Adèle Lallovich, his rival would return and snatch his prize from out his very arms.
Therefore he waited and he watched with a dogged patience and perseverance. The July days passed into August, and August became September, and still he made no further progress in the path of victory; while on the other hand, according to private despatches from the Italian, Mattalini, Vladimir Mellikoff was apparently succeeding in his undertaking beyond his most sanguine hopes, and spoke confidently of his speedy return to Petersburg.
Ivor felt the situation to be critical, and yet was unable to force the march of events. So far his every effort had miscarried; each well-laid plan, each secret scheme had but resulted in failure. Adèle Lallovich seemed to have as completely vanished from out the orbit of his machinations, as though she had never come within that of his vision.
And so the 15th of September dawned, and Tolskoi, with the sense of defeat pressing heavily upon him, failed for the first time to report himself at the Chancellerie. He felt he could not bear with equanimity Patouchki's piercing glance, or the harsh tones of his voice as he put the invariable question—"Have you found her?" and still less could he meet the slow, cold smile that curled the chief's lips at the monotony of his negative reply. He knew, too, that this was the day appointed in America for the examination of the warrant papers, under which Count Mellikoff had effected the arrest of a certain person calling herself Adèle Lamien, and should this inquiry terminate in the establishment of the woman's identity with the murderer of Stevan Lallovich, Mellikoff would lose no time in starting for Russia; and, when once on the ground, and his influence over Patouchki restored, what would become of his, Ivor's, charges against him? The deepest laid schemes must fall to pieces under the pressure of bald fact. It had never been a part of Ivor's design that Vladimir should return triumphant; his defeat and disgrace, while absent, were necessary factors in the carrying out of his project. It was on that very defeat and disgrace that he depended most for his success with Olga; like her royal ancestress, she could not tolerate or forgive the sin of failure.
The day had been very close and hot; what breeze there was came laden with a fiery touch, the great gilded dome of Isaac's Church blazed with blinding intensity, the tall, lance-like spire of the great Petropavlovsk fortress quivered in the palpitating atmosphere; there was no retreat, however secluded, that was not laid bare and permeated by the searching, cruel sunshine.
Ivor had remained a voluntary prisoner all day; but as evening drew on, and the garish sun sank gradually down to rest in a panoply of royal crimson and gold, he roused himself, and passed out into the rapidly filling streets. Walking idly along the Boulevard de Cavalerio, he made his way to the Nevski—the Rue Rivoli of Petersburg—stopping now and then to look in the shop windows, and to wonder aimlessly which one of all the pretty baubles displayed in the Circassian Bazaar would best please Olga's fancy.
After half an hour's wandering through the arcades he turned in the direction of the church of Our Lady of Kazan. The great doors stood open, and on either side the semi-circular colonnades, like those of St. Peter's at Rome, made deep and shadowy resting-places for the weary.
Pushing past the kneeling beggars gathered about the entrance, Ivor passed in to the deep stillness and tranquillity of the grand interior. No service was going on, and the hushed silence was unbroken save for the occasional footsteps of coming or retreating worshippers. The rich glory of colour and ornament, for which Our Lady of Kazan is famous, were half hidden by the gathering on of night; here and there, where a taper gleamed, the sparkle of gems, the reflection of gold, the green of malachite, or the blue of lapis-lazuli would flash out, lost again in the feeble, flickering rays.
Half hidden by one of the great columns, Ivor watched the ever-changing stream of visitors, as they came and went, and fell to speculating upon the nature of the petitions they pleaded so earnestly, throwing themselves on their knees, bowing their heads, beating their breasts, and making unceasingly the sacred symbol upon brow and heart. He did not kneel himself; he would have told you that he had out-grown all such old-world superstitions, but he watched with half-amused, half-sympathetic toleration the rapt devotion of those about him.
Presently a woman, some little distance away, got up from her knees, and, after a moment's hesitation, turned and walked swiftly down the dim aisle. Ivor looked at her without much thought beyond the half-formed one that her long cloak of black serge and closely-veiled bonnet were ill fitted for the heat of that summer evening. As she drew near to him his attention wandered, caught by the trifling incident of a baby's cry, and when his thoughts returned to the heavily-draped figure it had vanished out of sight.
In another moment Ivor also quitted the now dark church and retraced his steps to the Nevski, where fascinated again by the frivolities in the Circassian shop he halted, and returned to the vexed question of Olga's taste in the matter of a gift.
Next door to the Bazaar was a small, rather bare-looking shop, whose only sign of business was the significant one of St. Nicholas' three golden balls. The entrance door was low, and as it opened or shut a tiny bell above the transbeam gave out a warning jangle. It was this bell that aroused Tolskoi's attention and caused him to look up suddenly. As he did so, a tall figure dressed in a thick black serge cloak and close bonnet came out of the low door; the nature of the woman's errand was painfully apparent, for in her hand were two or three coins, over which her head was bent down.
Ivor at once recognised her to be the same woman he had seen in the church of Our Lady of Kazan, not half an hour before, and his interest thus reawakened, he watched her not unkindly.
As she passed him the light wind caught at her long black veil, floating out one end of it; she put up her hand to catch it, turning a little as she did so, and there, in the half lights, partially concealed by the black folds surrounding it, Ivor saw again the face that had haunted him for so many months; the face he had seen wild and haggard and imploring at the great door of St. Isaac's—the face of Adèle Lallovich!
His first impulse in his excitement was to cry out, to speak to her, to stop her further progress, to make her his prisoner by violence if necessary, to force her to accompany him to the Chancellerie. Then as swiftly reason reasserted itself, and he determined to do nothing rash; he had no power to arrest, he would but give her another chance of escape if he raised a streetémeuteagainst her. He understood too well the organised power of the Nihilists; at one cry from this woman a dozen defenders would spring to her assistance; she would be rescued before his very eyes, and he should get but a fool's recompense for his pains.
No, what he must do was this. He must follow her adroitly, without arousing her suspicions; he must track her to her place of abode, and when sure of her refuge, send for Patouchki and deliver her into his hands.
The woman walked on swiftly, threading her way deftly between the droschkies and heavier vehicles that thronged the Nevski, and as stealthily as a sleuth-hound, Ivor kept pace behind her. At the door of a good-sized, respectable house she stopped, raised her hand and knocked twice; in an instant the door opened on a cord, and she passed into a narrow passage. The pent-up shadows rushed forward to greet her, and swallowed her up in their dark embrace. Then the door swung to noiselessly, and Ivor was left without, staring vacantly at the non-committal walls and casements.
An hour later and night had thrown her sombre mantle over the gay city. One by one as the hours crept on, the noise of returning revellers grew fainter and less frequent; gradually the peace of midnight settled down upon the myriads of human souls who make up the sum of Petersburg's life. The heavens were dark and formless, save for the millions of shining stars; Isaac's golden dome loomed up in giant outline against the sombre sky; only the glittering lance-like spire of Peter's fortress caught and held a transitory gleam upon its slender shaft.
And then presently a noise of wheels broke the stillness, wheels that came ever nearer and nearer; down the Boulevard first, and then into the Nevski, where the pace slackened, and a covered droschky drew up in front of the commodious and respectable house, before which Ivor had stood baffled.
Three persons got out of the carriage, two of whom were easily recognisable, despite the disguise of mufflers and low hats, as Patouchki and Tolskoi. Not a word passed between them, while Ivor, stepping a little in advance, knocked twice distinctly. Instantly the door swung back on its cord, and the three men entering shut it quietly behind them.
A light gleamed at the head of the stairs, and a woman's figure detached itself from the surrounding gloom. She held a lamp high up above her head, from which the close black bonnet had been removed. And thus looking down upon them, calm and unsuspecting, they saw the beautiful face of the fugitive Adèle Lallovich.
For, indeed, she was still very beautiful, despite the lines passion and pain had graven on her forehead, and about her eyes. The eyes themselves were deep blue beneath black pencilled brows; the dusky hair, wherein a thousand golden tints played at hide and seek, fell loosely about her throat; the curve of the lips was proud, with a touch of suffering in its downward droop.
This, then, was the woman they sought! This was the defenceless being against whom they came armed with Russia's law! This was Stevan Lallovich's wife—this was his murderer!
For a moment they hesitated, stayed by the fearlessness and dependence of her position; then Patouchki stepped forward and ascended the staircase. She watched him as he came, step by step, and she knew that her days were numbered.
She was alone in the house, save only for a little serving-maid; any resistance would be but vain. She did not mean to resist. She had prayed night and day for months that some release might come to her. Had she not that very evening begged Our Lady of Kazan to have a little pity upon her; to give her some little respite from the horrible dreams and spectres that haunted her; to let her forget for only one small fraction of time, the horror and reproach that had settled on her lover's face when she dealt him his death-wound?
Our Lady of Kazan never turns a deaf ear, it is said. Was not this her answer to that wild, imploring cry?
Patouchki reached her at last. She faced him boldly and with eyes that never flinched; the lamp in her upraised hand burnt on steadily, no tremble of weakness made its flame flicker, or grow dim.
And now Patouchki laid his hand upon her shoulder.
"You are Adèle Lamien," he said, in his harsh, bullet-like tones, "and as such I arrest you, for the murder of Count Stevan Lallovich."
She made no gesture either of assent or dissent, she only looked at him, with all her soul in her wonderful eyes. Then she spoke slowly and with deliberation.
"I am Adèle Lallovich," she said, "I recognise no other name."
"That makes small difference," replied Patouchki. "I must trouble you, madam, to accompany me."
Again she raised her beautiful eyes to his, and spoke, this time a little wildly.
"I am Adèle Lallovich—and I killed him—my husband—with my own hand."
Then she turned, and walked with quick steps across a narrow hall, where on a peg hung her black cloak and bonnet. She set down the lamp, and with dexterous fingers put on her outside garments. When this was accomplished she took some money from her pocket—the few silver pieces Ivor had seen her counting over in her palm—and, wrapping them in a bit of paper, wrote across it.
"It is for Paulina," she said in explanation, "my little maid."
Then she turned, and motioning Patouchki to precede her, followed him down the stairs and along the passage. The door opened as noiselessly as before, and was closed with equal caution. There was a moment's whispered consultation, the slight dark figure stepped into the waiting droschky without assistance, followed by Ivor and Patouchki; the door was shut, and the vehicle moved quickly away down the deserted Nevski in the direction of the Chancellerie, whose frowning portals were watched over by Petropavlovsk's grim fortress.
As the noise of the wheels grew fainter, the sadmisererebells rang out the quarter past midnight.
On the following morning Patouchki, with an unusual light in his eyes, and a cruel smile on his lips, wrote out the telegraphic cable, that sounded the death-knell to Vladimir Mellikoff's love and hope.
Not many hours passed after that dramatic scene in the court-room, in which the Italian, Mattalini, played so conspicuous a part, before ample confirmation of his statement came over the ocean telegraph, establishing beyond all question of doubt the arrest of the real Adèle Lamien, and the innocence of Patricia Hildreth.
As John Mainwaring had said, his theory once confirmed, all shred of suspicion must, as a matter of course, fall from her, and she would re-enter society's world stainless in character and reputation. At the end of the second day's examination, however, she returned voluntarily to Ludlow Street Jail, refusing with decision the conditional liberty bestowed upon her.
"I had much rather wait," she said to John Mainwaring. "Please, Mr. Mainwaring, do not urge me to go against my conscience. You can surely understand my feeling in this matter. I will not leave what has been my prison, until my innocence is unqualifiedly established, and until those who forced me into this position are convinced of its falsity. After a week's experience of the delights of Ludlow Street, what can a few additional hours matter?"
She finished with one of her rare smiles, which made John Mainwaring again realise the utter futility of his eloquence, when pitted against the charm of her loveliness.
So Patricia returned to her house of detention, and John Mainwaring left her at the entrance thereto, with a more cheerful look upon his dark countenance than had visited it for many a day.
It was still early in the afternoon when the inquiry terminated, and the sunshine lay upon all things external with so lavish a touch and so tropical a force, that the dark corridors and dim halls of the gloomy building appeared most grateful to Miss Hildreth's tired brain and eyes.
She entered her room, the scene of so many conflicts between her love and pride, and sank wearily down upon the chair before the table, on which the yellow roses in their tall glass vase made a single spot of golden colour. Resting her elbows on the open portfolio, she buried her face in her hands and remained motionless, wrapt in a long desultory retrospect of the week's events.
She was too weary even to remove her bonnet, or the light scarf of lace about her shoulders.
Now that the long strain was ended, the tension slackened, she felt her strength lapse from her, and an overpowering weakness take its place.
It was true she stood cleared in the eyes of the public, who now regarded her in the light of a heroine, concerning whose courage and chivalry they could not say enough. But was she cleared in her own eyes? It was well for her that the secret of her disguise had not been dragged ruthlessly out of its hiding-place. Had that been the case, would not this same public be gloating over it now; mouthing it and discussing it, with even greater avidity than they had displayed in the discussion of her late situation? She was spared such an humiliation; but was she spared the humiliation of her own thoughts, the scorn of her own accusing conscience? Must not the knowledge of her motives, in thus playing with the misery of another woman's crime, separate her for ever from the very one for whose sake she had entered on the path of deception? Could good ever come out of evil? Did the end ever justify the means?
All the suffering and anguish of those last seven days would seem as nothing, she told herself, could she but face Philip Tremain with unfaltering integrity; could she but look into his eyes and not feel her own fall beneath the honesty of his. Woman-like, she forgot his doubt of her, his half belief in her criminality, a criminality which, if proved, would have swept away all lesser indiscretions in its magnitude.
No; she gave no thought to the part he had borne. A woman is never so happy as when she forgives, with all her heart, some wrong-doing on the part of the man she loves. But with Patricia this active magnanimity was not called into requisition, for the simple reason that Philip's attitude during the past week was clean forgotten by her—swept away as were all lesser matters in the contemplation of her own moral obliquity.
How long she sat thus absorbed and motionless she could not have told; but it was long enough for the light in the room to wane, and for the dying rays of the sun to gleam aslant through the narrow window, casting long tremulous bars of tinted light upon the bare unlovely walls. Presently a slight noise aroused her, and, the chain of reflection thus broken, she raised her head and saw, standing some little way from her, with the tinted sun-rays resting on his stern face, the man of whom she thought.
For a moment she gazed at him without realising the actuality of his presence; and then, as her sad beautiful eyes sought his they faltered, while a rush of sudden colour dyed the pallor of her face.
"Philip!" she exclaimed, drawing in her breath with a half sob, "Philip!"
Her voice broke the spell, and, while its trembling cadences still lingered on the air, Mr. Tremain came nearer and stood beside her, looking down upon the troubled face and anxious eyes that dared not meet his own.
"Patricia," he said, "I have come to you now, because I must know the truth. Because, notwithstanding the speciousness of John Mainwaring's pleading, there still remains a little matter between you and me that needs some explanation. I have come, Patricia, to hear that explanation from your own lips."
His voice was harsh despite the tender supplication of his eyes; and Miss Hildreth, looking down, missed this contradictory tenderness, and realised only the commanding ring of his tones.
Her face hardened, and the old look of mocking defiance settled down upon it. She gave a little laugh; the artificiality of its ring jarred on Philip's sensibilities, and caused the tenderness in his eyes to give place to quick anger.
"Ah!" said Miss Hildreth, "how could I forget that you, Philip, would require even stronger proof than any afforded by Mr. Mainwaring's eloquence, to convince you of my inability to commit a murder? I failed, you see, to take into account the incredulity of a legal mind."
If her words were insolent, the smile and laugh accompanying them were more so, but Mr. Tremain would not let his hasty temper get the better of his discretion. He had come to her with the unformed theory, evoked by John Mainwaring's ambiguous words, still at work within him, and he determined, if it lay in his power, to force confirmation of it from her.
"You know that is not what I mean," he said gently; "no one can ever again entertain so vile a suspicion against you."
"Yetyoudoubted me, Philip," she interrupted; "you doubted me throughout."
"Yes," he answered, "if you like to classify a feeling, that scarce had formation in my mind, under so grave an emotion as doubt—why, then—I did doubt you, Patricia."
She made no reply to this, and after a short pause he began again:
"That, as you know, is not the subject to which I referred just now. You may put me by with subterfuge and raillery, Patricia, but I shall always come back to my point, again and again. Patty, what was your reason for personating that most miserable woman, Adèle Lamien? What was your inducement for imposing upon all at the Folly? What was your motive in wishing to deceive me?"
Still she made him no answer. She had turned her head away as he spoke, and taken one of the yellow roses from the vase. She raised this now, and drew it once or twice across her lips. She felt his eyes upon her, but she would not meet them. She knew this to be the crucial moment; and she must meet and overcome it as best she might.
"Patricia," he said again, and his voice grew sterner, "you force me to impute to you motives that are unworthy of you, unworthy of any woman. But how can I think otherwise, if you will not help me to do so? How can I put any other construction upon your conduct, save that of wilful and wanton cruelty, when I remember, that twice as Miss Hildreth, you refused me, scorning my love; and then, that only a few short hours afterwards, as Adèle Lamien you accepted me, and all I had to offer—accepted me, with a lie upon your lips, and deceit in your smile. Have you no explanation to give me, Patricia? Oh, my dear, I will accept any pretext you may offer; only make some little excuse, no matter how trivial, for the duplicity of your conduct."
His voice grew pleading as he finished. Looking at her, as she sat there, so near to him, and yet so far; a beautiful, lovely woman, whose very beauty had brought suspicion and distrust upon her, and remembering how first he had loved her in the full tide of her girlish fairness and innocence, and how through all these years he had cherished her memory, and could not put her from out his heart, all the old tenderness and longing surged up within him, and he knew he could forgive her everything, if only she would give him one little opportunity for such forgiveness.
Had Miss Hildreth but looked up at that moment, while the light of love still lingered in his eyes, and trembled on his lips, surely her foolish pride would have broken down, and all the misery of those last few weeks slipped from her, in the peace of a confession made with his arms about her, her head upon his breast.
But Miss Hildreth, like many a woman before her, let slip the golden chance, and passed by the propitious moment. She still played with the yellow rose and avoided his eyes as she replied, slowly:
"I can explain nothing, Philip; I have no excuse to offer. You must form your own opinion, and I must be judged and sentenced according to it."
"But, Patricia," urged Mr. Tremain, "I ask for so little. Will you not at least assure me, that it was no more wanton motive than love of conquest and power of coquetry, that led you to deceive me, and draw from me that mad proposal, which you, as Adèle Lamien, were pleased to triumph in against your own proper self? My dear, give me but one such assurance, I will be content, I will ask for nothing more."
"No," she replied in a dull, quiet voice, "I cannot. I have nothing to add to my former words. You had better leave me, Philip, and—forget me."
"That I can never do," he said, "I have never for one moment forgotten you in all the ten years of our separation. I am not likely to do so now, when I have again looked so often and so longingly, upon your beauty."
Her lips trembled a little at his words, but she made no response.
"Good-bye," he said sadly, and turned from her.
She listened to his firm footsteps as they traversed the floor; then came the click of the lock in the catch, the sound of the opening and shutting door, and then again the echo of his footsteps down the long stone passage.
Then all was still. The tinted sun-rays paled and faded, then vanished altogether; and Miss Hildreth, bowing her head upon her clasped hands, burst into a passionate storm of tears.
A week later the daily papers chronicled two events.
The first was contained in a short paragraph, supplemented by a long leader, stating that evidence having been received from Russia, confirming the arrest of the real criminal, Adèle Lamien, or Lallovich, the conspiracy against Miss Hildreth had fallen to the ground, and she had been released from her very unpleasant and unjust position. Miss Hildreth, on leaving Ludlow Street Jail, had immediately retired to her country place in the White Mountains.
The second item was even more briefly worded, though commented on exhaustively in a still longer leader, and ran to the following effect. That Count Vladimir Mellikoff, having failed signally in his efforts to traduce and incriminate a certain young lady, prominent in New York circles for her wealth, beauty, and amiable qualities, had sailed on the previous Saturday for Havre,en routefor St. Petersburg.
And so the "comity sensation," as it was called byTown Optics, died a natural death, and the next social scandal, hurrying close upon its heels, crowded it out of general consideration and recollection.
But those whom it had concerned so nearly could not forget it thus easily; to them it always remained a very vivid and terrible experience, out of which it seemed they had escaped almost by a miracle.
Mrs. Newbold returned at once to her island home, taking Dick Darling with her; and there, after several weeks had elapsed, Mr. Tremain sought her.
He took an early afternoon boat from the city, and walked up from New Brighton to the Folly; where not finding his faithful friend within that Palace of Idleness, and being informed vaguely by Perkins that his mistress was "somewhere about the gardings," Philip, declining his aid, set forth in search of her.
And so it came about that unconsciously his feet followed his memory, for very soon he found himself at the opening of the little hazel copse, where he and Patricia had so nearly touched on reconciliation.
The marble boy Narcissus was still there, and still holding aloft the vase from which the water trickled in a gaily tinkling stream. There, too, was the rustic bench, and seated on it, doing nothing very gracefully, was Esther Newbold.
She jumped up at sight of him and ran forward, dragging her scarlet parasol behind her. Her face was bright with welcome, her smile affectionate and a little patronising.
"My dear Philip, what a pleasure!" she exclaimed, putting out her small hand in a loose gardening glove. "We began to think you had given us up altogether for 'a bad lot,' as my slang-loving Dick would say. Why have you not come before, sir?"
And holding that frank little hand in his, and looking into the sincerity of her blue eyes, Mr. Tremain asked himself the same question, and answered it truly, as he replied:
"Esther, my dear, I did not come, because—I was afraid."
"Ah," she said quickly. "Afraid! That is not like you. Of what, or of whom, were you afraid?"
"Of you, and of your powers of persuasion," he answered; at which Esther shook her head, and laughed a little.
"It is as well you should acknowledge it," she said, "and with your first breath. For, of course, you know, I don't mean to speak with you upon any but one subject. Philip, why are you here; why are you not already at the feet of Patricia?"
"Yes, I knew you would ask that," he answered; "but, my dear Esther, how can I go to Miss Hildreth, when she herself has raised an impassable barrier between us?"
But Esther failed to follow his reasoning.
"Nonsense," she said, a little brusquely. "Nothing should be impossible to a man who loves; and all things should be forgiven to the woman who loves him. I have no patience with either of you; but least of all with you, Philip. Were I a man, no fantastical barrier should keep me from the woman of my heart. Do you always intend to go on like this? To live and to die, or, worse, grow old and grey, waiting for the barrier to tumble down of itself, and never put out a hand to help its overthrow?"
Mr. Tremain could not but smile at her vehemence; he felt his spirits rise under the energy of her assault.
"It is for Patricia to make the first overture," he said. "I went to her, as you know, at once, and begged of her to give me ever so trivial and light an excuse for the ambiguity of her conduct towards me, but she would not. She had no explanation to offer, she said, and she let me go from her without any word of resistance, any sign of relenting."
"Then she was a little fool," cried Esther, "and I wish I had her here to scold, and pet, and tease, and kiss. But you, Philip, are not much wiser. I dare say you went at her hammer and tongs, with your gravest face, and in your longest words! Of course Patricia could not bear that sort of argument. I wonder, for my part, that she listened to you at all."
"But, surely, my dear Esther, you must admit I had a little show of reason on my side," said Mr. Tremain, more quickly. "You must acknowledge that Patricia's conduct in refusing me repeatedly, as Miss Hildreth, and then accepting me, as Adèle Lamien, requires a little explanation. It is not over pleasant to one'samour propreto feel that one has been duped; but to have been duped wantonly, is more than unpleasant—it approaches insult."
Mrs. Newbold looked at him earnestly for several moments before replying; when she spoke it was in a far graver and more serious manner.
"And have you no idea, Philip, why Patricia played this somewhat ignoble rôle? Cannot you form some theory concerning it?"
Mr. Tremain shook his head.
"I have formed a dozen theories, my dear Esther, and dismissed them all; each seemed less tenable than the other."
"And yet, you are very sure you love her?"
"Yes, I am very sure of that. I wish I was as sure that she cared one-fifth part as much for me."
"Ah!" said Esther, a satisfied smile creeping in and out of her dimples. "Then, Philip, I think I must read the riddle for you.Patricia deceived you—because she loved you."
But if Mrs. Newbold expected Mr. Tremain to indulge in heroics at this declaration, she was destined to be disappointed. Instead of rhapsodies of delight, he replied with an echo of scorn in his voice.
"Are you aware what a paradoxical sentiment you are promulgating, Esther? Love is not commonly supposed to take pleasure in deception."
"Ah," she interrupted, "but Patricia is not a common woman; perhaps she is as paradoxical as my sentiment. However that may be, I assure you, Philip, she deceived you because she loved you. Do you remember receiving a letter from her, early in the spring?"
"I do indeed."
"Very well. I don't absolutely know what was in that letter, but I have my shrewd suspicions, and I do know that your answer, when it arrived, was not what she had looked for. She came to me soon after she received it, and I was positively frightened by the look of pain and determination on her face. She told me that she had written to you, that she had humbled her pride sufficiently to do so, because she loved you, and had never loved any one else but you. Then she told me of your answer to her letter. She should never forgive you, she said, never, until she had made you suffer, through a woman, some portion of the pain and humiliation you had brought upon her. And then she told me her plan."
Here Mrs. Newbold paused and stole a look at her auditor. He was standing with his arms folded, his eyes fixed upon the sparkling drops of water as they fell from the uplifted vase, in the marble-boy Narcissus' hand. With a quickly-repressed shrug of her shoulders, Mrs. Newbold opened her scarlet umbrella, and continued, watching Philip meanwhile from under its friendly shade.
"And this was Patricia's plan. She would come down to the Folly, ostensibly as Mimi's governess, and as such she was to be introduced to you. I was to tell the story of Adèle Lallovich, more or less modified, as if it were her own, and she was to strive to win your interest and regard, despite the damaging evidences of so black a past. 'I will conquer him yet,' she said, 'he shall not escape me always; and then, when he has acknowledged himself vanquished, when he has laid down his pride and his superiority for the sake of Adèle Lamien, why then, it will be my turn to scorn and reject him, and he shall understand what it is to make advances and be repulsed.' She was very angry, Philip, and hard and desperate; and I was obliged to yield to her wishes for fear of something worse. So we arranged it all between us, and I comforted myself with the thought that perhaps, after all, good might come out of it, if even under a disguise, Patricia could win you back again to her."
Again Mrs. Newbold paused, but Philip neither changed his attitude nor raised his eyes. So intent was his gaze, he might have been counting the drops as they fell, with rhythmic measure, into the marble basin.
Mrs. Newbold continued.
"And then at last you came, Philip; and the rest was easy work, because from the very first, you were apparently strangely attracted to Adèle Lamien, and I felt almost righteous when I saw how well all was working as we had planned. Patricia came to me the evening of the day you left the Folly, and falling on her knees beside me, told me of her interview with you, as Adèle Lamien. She cried and laughed and was girlishly happy over it, because, as she said, she could see all the time, even when you were urging your suit most impetuously, she could see that it was not Adèle Lamien you really loved, but she—in her own proper person—Patricia Hildreth. 'Oh, Esther,' she cried, 'I know, I know he loves me! And now, oh, how shall I ever face him; how shall I ever tell him by what subterfuge and deceit I have won him from—myself? Oh, Philip, it was unworthy of me, unworthy of my love; and yet I did it because of my love.'"
Once more Mrs. Newbold stopped, and looked at him, but Philip was oblivious of her gaze. She smiled, and closing her scarlet umbrella moved a step or two nearer to him.
"And then you know," she went on, "our party broke up, and Patricia left me. She promised me she would lose no time, she would write and tell you all; she would keep nothing back, she would restore your pledge to you, which she held as Adèle Lamien, and she would ask nothing from you but your forgiveness. You who know Patricia's proud nature, can realise how difficult such a confession would be for her; and indeed, Philip, she would have carried out her purpose had I been able to keep near her. Away from me, and alone, she grew fearful and lost courage. 'I cannot do it,' she wrote me, 'Esther, I cannot do it. I could not bear the scorn of his eyes, the lash of his words. I cannot tell him that I deceived him, wantonly and cruelly, and of set purpose. My dear, I love him, and yet see what my love has brought me to. Do you think he could ever believe in it, or me, or trust to it, or me, again? No, let me say nothing; let me drift out of his life. As Adèle Lamien I can easier bear the certainty of his contempt, since I mean never to claim his promise, but as Patricia Hildreth I should die beneath the scorn of his just anger. I have been rightly punished for my wilfulness. Do not urge me any further. I cannot tell him, Esther, I cannot.' Then you know, Philip, came the terrible blow of her arrest, and the first thing she demanded of me, when I went to see her, was that I should swear to keep silent regarding the motive of her disguise. 'He must never know,' she said, 'more than ever, he must never know; and Esther, of this be very sure, I will face anything, Russia, condemnation, exile, rather than that my weakness and folly shall be dragged out as my excuse, and he be made the object of public derision. I have harmed him enough, Heaven knows, but he shall suffer no more through my pride and weak revenge. I would rather he believed me guilty of this horrible crime, Esther, than that I should make him ridiculous, as the dupe of a selfish woman, in the eyes of the world.' That is why John Mainwaring had so poor a defence to work upon, and that is why both my lips and his were sealed."
Mrs. Newbold came still closer to him, she put her hand on his arm, her eyes forced his to look at her; there were tears in their blue depths, her voice was tremulous and she spoke impetuously.
"You know the rest, Philip; I have kept nothing back, and I think when you remember the severity of her punishment, the bitterness of her suffering, the humiliation of her spirit, you will forgive her. She loves you, Philip; it is from her very love that all this misery has fallen upon her. Will you leave her to bear it alone, or will you go to her? Ah, Philip, no one has ever had a braver opportunity for carrying out the old, old precept; the legacy left to us by One whose mercy and forbearance knew no bounds, and who said, forgive, even if it be until 'seventy times seven.'"