That Affair at Elizabeth, Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  A Strange Message

  I guessed in a breath who she was, and my heart went out to her ininstant pity. Yet a second glance told me that it was not the shadow ofthis recent sorrow which lay across her face. Time alone could gravethose lines of calm endurance, could give to the eyes that look of quietresignation, to the mouth that curve of patient suffering; and only adeep spiritual faith could preserve and heighten the sweetness andgentleness of a countenance so marked.

  "This is Mr. Lester, Mrs. Lawrence," said our junior, quickly, andplaced a chair for her. "We've asked Mr. Lester to help us," he added.

  She closed the door behind her and came forward as we rose,acknowledging the introduction with the faintest of bows.

  "Thank you," she said. "Lucy told me you had returned, Mr. Royce," shewent on, a little tremulously, "and I was anxious to know if you had anynews."

  "Not yet. Mr. Curtiss was just telling Mr. Lester----"

  "Yes," she interrupted, "I saw how he was suffering and I wished tospare him, if I could."

  "My dear Mrs. Lawrence," broke in Curtiss, "you must think only ofsparing yourself."

  "Still," I suggested, "it's possible that Mrs. Lawrence can help us agreat deal, if she will."

  She was holding herself admirably in hand, and I thought her in muchless danger of breaking down than Curtiss himself. Perhaps the oldsorrow had taught her how to bear the new one.

  "I shall be glad to help you all I can," she said, and smiled a faintencouragement.

  It seemed brutal to question her at such a time, but I saw it must bedone and I nerved myself to do it.

  "Mrs. Lawrence," I began, "has any possible explanation of yourdaughter's flight occurred to you?"

  "No," she answered quickly, and with an emphasis that rather startledme. "It seems to me utterly unexplainable. Even yet, I can scarcelybelieve it!"

  "She left no message for you?"

  "Not a word; she simply disappeared."

  "And you had no warning?"

  "Warning?" she repeated, facing around upon me. "No!"

  "Nor suspected that there was anything amiss?"

  "Not for an instant."

  "Since there _was_ something amiss, why did your daughter not confide inyou?"

  "I have asked myself the same question. I am utterly unable to answerit."

  "She was in the habit of coming to you with her troubles?"

  "Always. There was the most perfect confidence between us."

  "And yet she concealed this?"

  "She did not conceal it!" she protested. "She could not have concealedit from my eyes, even had she wished to. There was nothing to conceal.There was absolutely nothing wrong the last time I saw her."

  "And that was?"

  "Only a few minutes before she disappeared."

  "Will you tell me just what happened?" I suggested, as gently as Icould. "Every detail you can remember."

  She sat for a moment with compressed lips, steadying herself.

  "There's very little to tell," she began. "She was quite her usual selfthis morning, so far as I could see, and very happy. Two or three of hergirl friends came in to see her for a moment, to talk over the finalarrangements, and she was giving some directions about the decorationswhen Mr. Curtiss called. After he had gone, she made a last trip throughthe house to see that all was right, and then started upstairs to dress.Half an hour later, she came to my room in her wedding-gown to ask howshe looked, and I had never seen her looking more beautiful. Onlyperfect happiness can give such beauty to a woman. I remember thinkingwhat a joy it was to me that she had found a man whom she could love asshe loved----"

  A half-stifled, choking sob from Curtiss interrupted her. She turned andstretched out her hand to him, with a gesture of infinite affection.

  "I finished dressing," she continued, "and then went to Marcia's room,but she wasn't there. Her maid said she'd been called downstairs for amoment. I came down, and found that the decorator had wanted her opinionof the final touches. She had left him, to go upstairs again, as hesupposed. It was then nearly half-past eleven, and the bridesmaids beganto arrive. I supposed Marcia was in the grounds somewhere, and sent twoof the servants to look for her and to tell her it was time to start forthe church. They came back saying she was not to be found. Then I beganto be alarmed, thinking that she had perhaps been taken suddenly ill,and we searched the house and grounds systematically, but found no traceof her. At last, it seemed just possible that she had gone on to thechurch, and the bridesmaids hurried into the carriages and droveaway--but she wasn't there--only Burr waiting for her----"

  She stopped with a sudden tremulousness.

  "Thank you," I said. "There's one question I must ask, Mrs. Lawrence,before I can go to work intelligently. You will pardon it. Had yourdaughter ever had any attachment previous to this one?"

  I saw Curtiss glance at her quickly. That solution of the problem hadoccurred to him, then, too!

  "Not the shadow of one," answered Mrs. Lawrence instantly, and perhapsit was only my fancy that the accent of sincerity was a trifle forced."I have been Marcia's companion and confidante all her life, and I amsure that no man ever distinctly interested her until she met Mr.Curtiss."

  "But she no doubt interested many men," I suggested.

  "Yes, but never with intention."

  "That only makes the case more desperate sometimes."

  "I don't believe there were any desperate cases. You will remember," sheadded, "that we lived much abroad, and so had few intimateacquaintances. Besides, Marcia was--well--extremely patriotic. She oftensaid that she would marry only an American--and an American who lived athome and was proud of his country. One doesn't meet many of that kind inEurope."

  "No," I agreed. Whatever my doubts might be, it was clearly impossibleat present to proceed any further along that line of inquiry.

  And what other line lay open? It seemed to me that I had come to animpasse--a closed way--which barred further progress.

  I sat silent a moment, pondering the problem. Perhaps Mrs. Lawrence heldthe key to it, and I turned to look at her. She was seemingly sunk inreverie, and her lips moved from time to time, as though she wererepeating to herself some fragmentary words. She seemed moreself-possessed in the presence of this catastrophe than one would haveexpected. Perhaps she knew where her daughter was; perhaps Miss Lawrencehad not really fled. There was nothing to show that she had left thehouse. It seemed impossible that a woman clad as she had been could havefled, in broad day, without attracting some one's notice. But whethershe had fled or not, I reflected, the mystery remained the same.Certainly, she had not appeared at the altar to keep her promise to BurrCurtiss.

  "Mrs. Lawrence," I asked, "what reason have you to believe that yourdaughter left the house?"

  She started from her reverie, and sat staring at me as though scarceunderstanding.

  "Why," she said at last, "what else could she have done? She hasdisappeared----"

  "You're sure she isn't concealed somewhere about the place?"

  "Concealed?" and she paled a little under my eyes. "Oh, no; that'simpossible! We've searched everywhere!"

  "And you think she went of her own free will?"

  "She could scarcely have been abducted," she retorted. "Marcia is astrong girl, and a single scream would have alarmed the house."

  "That's true," I agreed. "Your room is near hers?"

  "Just across the hall."

  The wish flashed into my brain to look through the house; perhaps Ishould be able to arrange it.

  "There's no pit or hole or trap or anything of that sort into which shecould have fallen?"

  "Oh, no; nothing of the sort."

  "Nor closet nor chest into which she could have accidentally lockedherself?" I went on, remembering the fate of the bride in the old song.

  "No; besides, we've looked in them all. We've searched everywhere--everycorner. She's not in the house--I'm quite sure of that."

  "And yet you say she loved Mr. Curtiss?"r />
  "Loved him devotedly."

  "Then what possible reason could she have for deserting him? Why shouldshe----"

  A knock at the door interrupted me. Mrs. Lawrence, who was sittingnearest it, rose quickly and opened it. I caught a glimpse, in thesemi-darkness of the hall, of a woman in a maid's cap and apron. Shegave her mistress a letter, whispering, as she did so, a swift sentencein her ear.

  I heard Mrs. Lawrence's low exclamation of surprise, as she held theletter up to the light and read the superscription. Then she turnedswiftly toward us, her face pale with emotion.

  "It's a note!" she cried. "A note from Marcia! It will explain!" and shehanded the envelope to Curtiss.

  "A note?" he stammered. "Addressed to me?"

  "In Marcia's writing. Read it. It will explain," she repeated.

  He took it with trembling hand, went to the window, and tore it open. Isaw his lips quivering as he read it; I saw the white intensity withwhich Mrs. Lawrence watched his face; I was conscious, too, of anotherpresence in the room, and I glanced around to see that the maid stoodleaning forward in the open doorway, her eyes sparkling with eagerness,her mouth working, her hands clasping and unclasping convulsively. Therewas something sinister in her dark, expressive face, in herattitude--something almost of exulting, of triumph----

  Curtiss crushed the letter in his hand with a quick movement of despair,and turned to us distraught, flushed, astounded.

  "It tells nothing," he faltered; "nothing. It--it--I can't believe it!Read it, Mr. Lester," and he held the sheet of paper toward me.

  There were only a few lines upon it:--

  "Dearest: I cannot be your wife--how shall I tell you? It is quite, quite impossible. Oh, believe me, sweetheart, nothing but the certainty of that could keep me from you. I am fleeing; I cannot see you, cannot speak to you; there can be no explanation; only I shall love you always! Is it wrong to write that now, I wonder? Please do not attempt to follow me, to seek me out; that will only mean sorrow for us both--sorrow and shame. Perhaps some day, when the wound heals--will it ever heal?--I can tell you, can bear to see you. But oh, not now!

  "MARCIA LAWRENCE."