and when she spoke her voice reminded me of her voice as a child, not like the woman she was now. “When I was seventeen, I attended a Royal Dublin Society Ball at Leinster House. Ma and Pa had no idea I was going; I told them I was visiting my friend Philippa Ferguson, and she told her parents she was staying overnight with our family, as we intended to be out until dawn. I wasn’t fond of lying to Ma and Pa, and I rarely did so, but they could be so protective of me, this was the only way I could win any freedom from their control.
“Philippa and I dressed in gowns borrowed from her older sister, Amelia. We styled each other’s hair, and pinched our cheeks until they glowed. By the time we were done, we both appeared several years older than our actual age—or so we believed. We left for Leinster House in a hansom cab. Philippa was always beautiful, but on this particular night she was positively radiant. I suppose I was a bit radiant, too, for it didn’t take long before we had a line of suitors asking us to dance. At this juncture, we had little time for attending each other, and before long I had lost track of her amongst the crowd, but since I was enjoying such a delightful time, I thought little of it. Philippa could not have ventured far, and I assumed she was off dancing somewhere else out of my sight. Nearly three hours elapsed, then four. At this point, I began to worry. The hour was late, the number of revelers had thinned, yet I spied no sign of my friend. When I made inquiry of the gentlemen she had danced with earlier in the evening, each told me they had not seen her in a long while. When the clock struck midnight, indicating the conclusion of the ball, I still had not found her. I considered taking another hansom back to her home, but I knew she would not have left without me, so instead I strolled the vast gardens. It was near the gardens’ rear wall that I heard her crying. At first, I couldn’t tell where her sobs came from and thought I imagined them, but then I spotted her huddled in a gazebo next to the rose garden. I went to her quickly and wrapped my arms around her, so glad to have found her, and at my touch she pulled away, her eyes gleaming with terror. When she realized it was me, her face softened, and tears flowed freely again as she held me, her entire body quivering with each sob. We remained embraced like this for some time, and when she was finally able to speak, she told me a most horrific tale. One of her suitors, a man who had claimed to be Thomas Hall, had taken her on a stroll in the garden. Initially, she said it was lovely, walking hand in hand amongst the blossoms, hearing him speak of his travels, throughout Ireland and the United Kingdom, and to America, where he had traveled on three different occasions and would love to take her the next time he went. In the short time they spent together, he made her feel as if they had been friends for many years. When they reached the gazebo, he took her in his arms and kissed her, a deep, passionate kiss, the kind of kiss every girl dreams of, and Philippa thought she found her true love. When that first kiss concluded, he kissed her again, and again after that, before long his lips meandering over her neck and breasts. Although she was greatly attracted to him, she knew they must desist, and she told him so, but he did not, would not; instead, his grip on her arms tightening as he forced yet another kiss upon her.
“I saw then that her dress was torn, the material at her bosom held up only by her hand, and she told me of the terrible things he did to her, all while her begging him to stop. She pleaded with him again and again, and he ignored her again and again, until finally he slapped her across the face and told her not to utter another sound or he would kill her where she now lay, upon the floor of this gazebo. This went on for nearly twenty