That Affair at Elizabeth Part 5

"She was not such a woman at all," he said decidedly. "She was just the opposite of all that."

"That makes it more difficult," I pointed out.

"I know; I've thought it all out, as well as I'm able-only there's a blank wall I can't get past. Besides, if there's a reason, I have the right to know it."

"Yes," I a.s.sented heartily. "Undoubtedly you have the right to know it. There we're on solid ground. Well, that point is settled, then. And now I must ask you another question, Mr. Curtiss, which you may resent, but which it is absolutely necessary I should ask if I'm to be of any help to you."

"I think I can guess what it is, Mr. Lester," and he smiled grimly. "Since Marcia disappeared, I've reviewed carefully my whole past life, and I can find nothing in it which would justify, in the slightest degree, such an action. I've not been a saint, but at least I've never been dishonourable nor dissolute. Does that answer the question?"

"Perfectly," I said. There could be no doubting his utter truthfulness. "And your family history?"

"Is neither long nor brilliant. My father and mother both died when I was a baby. I was raised by my grandparents."

"They lived in New York?"

"No; on Long Island. My grandfather's name was John Curtiss. He managed an estate belonging to a New York banker. He was an honest and honourable man."

"And he is dead?"

"Yes; he and his wife have been dead ten years and more."

"You have no brothers or sisters?"

"No; nor any other near relatives."

That was the end of that theory, then. If the secret did not concern Curtiss, it must concern Miss Lawrence herself. More and more I felt that she was the victim of a plot. Of the maid's complicity, I had not the shadow of a doubt-but was Mrs. Lawrence a party to it, too?

I turned back to her. She was, apparently, so busy with her own thoughts that she paid no heed to what was pa.s.sing. How explain her calmness, her lack of interest? How, except on the theory that she knew where her daughter was, had a.s.sisted in her disappearance and approved of it? I felt my blood warm suddenly in Curtiss's behalf. If he had been the victim of an adventuress, it should be my business to expose her!

But a second glance at Mrs. Lawrence's face showed me the folly of such a thought. She was no adventuress-she was a gentle, cultured Christian woman, who had suffered, as all mortals must, but had still preserved her sweetness and serenity, as few mortals do. Yet more and more was I perplexed by that indefinable abstraction in her behaviour, which seemed somehow out of tune with the circ.u.mstances. Perhaps she was really more moved than she seemed to be; perhaps her apparent indifference was in reality only an admirable self-control. I fancied that it had given way for an instant when she was telling us the story of her daughter's disappearance. If I could only hit upon some way to startle her out of her self-possession, I might yet learn--

She turned suddenly and met my eyes. She flushed painfully-perhaps she read my thought; and instantly I blamed myself for my clumsiness in permitting my suspicion to appear in my face. It was a mischance not easily retrieved.

"I have told you all I know," she said, rising quickly, and answering the question I had not uttered. "I feel the need of rest. If I can help you in any way, command me."

"Thank you," I answered, and opened the door for her.

She paused on the threshold-glanced around-her eyes rested on Burr Curtiss's dreary face. In an instant, she was beside him, bending over him with infinite tenderness.

"Dear boy," she said, so low I could scarcely hear her, and smoothed back his hair with a gesture almost motherly, "dear boy, don't worry so. I'm sure it will all come right."

He looked up and smiled at her tremulously. With a quick impulsiveness, she stooped and kissed him, then went rapidly from the room, leaving me, at least, more puzzled than before at this sudden glimpse of unsuspected depths of tenderness.

I closed the door after her and turned back to Curtiss.

"Has Mrs. Lawrence favoured your suit for her daughter's hand?" I asked.

"Favoured it?" he repeated. "Yes, from the very first."

"Then, in your opinion, she couldn't have had anything to do with this disappearance-advised it, perhaps a.s.sisted in it?"

"No," he said decidedly; "that's absurd."

"And yet--" I began.

"If you knew her," he interrupted, "you would see its absurdity. She has always been most kind to me. You saw--"

"Yes," I nodded.

"She has always been like that. She has treated me as a dearly beloved son ever since we told her of our engagement."

"There has been no cloud?"

"Not the slightest! She seemed to share in her daughter's happiness and in mine. She has told me more than once that she thought fate had made us for each other."

"And she helped on the wedding-day?"

"In a thousand ways. She and Marcia worked together upon the trousseau. She helped with all the plans. Surely, Mr. Lester, if she objected, she wouldn't have waited till the last minute to make her objection known."

"Most certainly she would not," I agreed.

"Besides," Curtiss added hoa.r.s.ely, "I don't believe that even her mother could have kept Marcia from me."

"She's a widow?" I asked.

"Yes. Her husband has been dead ten or twelve years. Marcia is the only child."

"She seems to have had her share of sorrow," I remarked. "Her face shows it."

"She has not been quite well lately; but she was always a little-well-sad, it seemed to me; serious, you know; smiling sometimes, but rarely laughing. I've fancied she grieved for her husband; but I really know nothing about it."

"She doesn't look very strong," I hazarded, in the hope that Curtiss really knew more than he supposed.

"She isn't strong; but I've never seen her really ill. She is subject to spells of depression, so Marcia told me. Of course, I've known her only six months."

So there was an old trouble, as I had thought, beside which this new one seemed of little moment. She had been schooled by suffering; perhaps I had misjudged her in thinking her indifferent. But it was evident that I could get no further information from Curtiss.

"You were at the church," I asked, "when you heard that Miss Lawrence had disappeared?"

"Yes," he answered hoa.r.s.ely. "Royce brought me word."

"And you came straight here?"

"Yes."

"And searched for her?"

"Where could I search? I was utterly at sea. I-I don't remember just what I did at first."