CHAPTER XI
A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE
A woman was sitting in a low room, engaged in knitting. Her feet werestretched out toward a small fire that smouldered in an open hearth. Shewore a simple calico gown, neat and well-fitting, and her face boretraces of much beauty that time and care had been unable wholly toefface.
Suddenly she paused in her work, her head turned slightly to one side tolisten.
"Come in, sir," she called in a soft but distinct voice; "come in,miss."
So Kenneth and Beth entered at the half-open porch door and advancedinto the room.
"Is this Mrs. Rogers?" asked Beth, looking at the woman curiously. Thewoman's eyes were closed, but the lashes fell in graceful dark curvesover her withered cheeks. The girl wondered how she had been able toknow her visitors' sex so accurately.
"Yes, I am Mrs. Rogers," said the sweet, sad voice. "And I think you areone of the young ladies from Elmhurst--perhaps the one Will talked to."
"You are right, Mrs. Rogers. I am Elizabeth DeGraf."
"And your companion--is it Mr. Forbes?" the woman asked.
"Yes, madam," replied Kenneth, astonished to find Will's wife speakingwith so much refinement and gracious ease.
"You are very welcome. Will you please find seats? My affliction rendersme helpless, as you may see."
"We are very comfortable, I assure you, Mrs. Rogers," said Beth. "Wehave come to ask if you have heard anything of your daughter."
"Not a word as yet, Miss DeGraf, Will is out with the horse and buggydoing his best to get information. But Lucy has been gone so long nowthat I realize it will be difficult to find her, if, indeed, the poorgirl has not--is not--"
Her voice broke.
"Oh, you don't fear _that_, do you, Mrs. Rogers?" asked Beth, quickly.
"I fear anything--everything!" wailed the poor creature, the tearsstreaming from between her closed lids. "My darling was frantic withgrief, and she couldn't bear the humiliation and disgrace of herposition. Will told you, didn't he?"
"Yes, of course. But it wasn't so bad, Mrs. Rogers; it wasn't adesperate condition, by any means."
"With poor Tom in prison for years--and just for trying to help her."
"Tom isn't in prison, you know, any more," said Beth quietly. "He hasbeen released."
"Released! When?"
"Last evening. His fault has been forgiven, and he is now free."
The woman sat silent for a time. Then she asked:
"You have done this, Mr. Forbes?"
"Why, Miss DeGraf and I assisted, perhaps. The young man is not reallybad, and--"
"Tom's a fine boy!" she cried, with eagerness. "He's honest and true,Mr. Forbes--he is, indeed!"
"I think so," said Kenneth.
"If he wasn't my Lucy would never have loved him. He had a bright futurebefore him, sir, and that's why my child went mad when he ruined hislife for her sake."
"Was she mad, do you think?" asked Beth, softly.
"She must have been," said the mother, sadly. "Lucy was a sensible girl,and until this thing happened she was as bright and cheerful as the dayis long. But she is very sensitive--she inherited that from me, Ithink--and Tom's action drove her distracted. At first she raved andrambled incoherently, and Will and I feared brain fever would set in.Then she disappeared in the night, without leaving a word or message forus, which was unlike her--and we've never heard a word of her since.The--the river has a strange fascination for people in that condition.At times in my life it has almost drawn _me_ into its depths--and I amnot mad. I have never been mad."
"Let us hope for the best, Mrs. Rogers," said Beth. "Somehow, I have anidea this trouble will all turn out well in the end."
"Have you?" asked the woman, earnestly.
"Yes. It all came about through such a little thing--merely an unjustaccusation."
"The little things are the ones that ruin lives," she said. "Will youlet me tell you something of myself? You have been so kind to us, mydear, that I feel you ought to know."
"I shall be glad to know whatever you care to tell me," said Beth,simply.
"I am the wife of a poor farmer," began the woman, speaking softly andwith some hesitation, but gaining strength as she proceeded. "As a girlI was considered attractive, and my father was a man of great wealth andsocial standing. We lived in Baltimore. Then I fell in love with a youngman who, after obtaining my promise to marry him, found some one heloved better and carelessly discarded me. As I have said, I have asensitive nature. In my girlhood I was especially susceptible to anyslight, and this young man's heartless action made it impossible for meto remain at home and face the humiliation he had thrust upon me. Myfather was a hard man, and demanded that I marry the man he had himselfchosen; but I resented this command and ran away. My mother had passedon long before, and there was nothing to keep me at home. I came westand secured a position to teach school in this county, and for a time Iwas quite contented and succeeded in living down my disappointment. Iheard but once from my father. He had married again and disinherited me.He forbade me to ever communicate with him again.
"At that time Will Rogers was one of the most promising and manly of thecountry lads around here. He was desperately in love with me, and atthis period, when I seemed completely cut off from my old life and thefuture contained no promise, I thought it best to wear out the remainderof my existence in the seclusion of a farm-house. I put all the pastbehind me, and told Will Rogers I would marry him and be a faithfulwife; but that my heart was dead. He accepted me on that condition, andit was not until after we were married some time that my husbandrealized how impossible it would ever be to arouse my affection. Then helost courage, and became careless and reckless. When our child came--ourLucy--Will was devoted to her, and the baby wakened in me all the oldpassionate capacity to love. Lucy drew Will and me a little closertogether, but he never recovered his youthful ambition. He was adisappointed man, and went from bad to worse. I don't say Will hasn'talways been tender and true to me, and absolutely devoted to Lucy. Buthe lost all hope of being loved as he loved me, and the disappointmentbroke him down. He became an old man early in life, and his lack ofenergy kept us very poor. I used to take in sewing before the accidentto my eyes, and that helped a good deal to pay expenses. But now I amhelpless, and my husband devotes all his time to me, although I beg himto work the farm and try to earn some money.
"I wouldn't have minded the poverty; I wouldn't mind being blind, even,if Lucy had been spared to me. I have had to bear so much in my lifethat I could even bear my child's death. But to have her disappear andnot know what has become of her--whether she is living miserably orlying at the bottom of the river--it is this that is driving medistracted."
Kenneth and Beth remained silent for a time after Mrs. Rogers hadfinished her tragic story, for their hearts were full of sympathy forthe poor woman. It was hard to realize that a refined, beautiful andeducated girl had made so sad a mistake of her life and suffered so manyafflictions as a consequence. That old Will had never been a fittingmate for his wife could readily be understood, and yet the man was stilldevoted to his helpless, unresponsive spouse. The fault was not his.
The boy and the girl both perceived that there was but one way theycould assist Mrs. Rogers, and that was to discover what had become ofher child.
"Was Lucy like you, or did she resemble her father?" asked Beth.
"She is--she was very like me when I was young," replied the woman."There is a photograph of her on the wall there between the windows; butit was taken five years ago, when she was a child. Now she is--she waseighteen, and a well-developed young woman."
"I've been looking at the picture," said Kenneth.
"And you mustn't think of her as dead, Mrs. Rogers," said Beth,pleadingly. "I'm sure she is alive, and that we shall find her. We'regoing right to work, and everything possible shall be done to trace yourdaughter. Don't worry, please. Be as cheerful as you can, and leave thesearch to us."
The woman sighed.
; "Will believes she is alive, too," she said. "He can't sleep or resttill he finds her, for my husband loves her as well as I do. Butsometimes I feel it's wicked to hope she is alive. I know what shesuffers, for I suffered, myself; and life isn't worth living whendespair and disappointment fills it."
"I cannot see why Lucy shouldn't yet be happy," protested Beth. "TomGates is now free, and can begin life anew."
"His trouble will follow him everywhere," said Mrs. Rogers, withconviction. "Who will employ a bookkeeper, or even a clerk who has beenguilty of forgery?"
"I think I shall give him employment," replied Kenneth.
"You, Mr. Forbes!"
"Yes. I'm not afraid of a boy who became a criminal to save the girl heloved."
"But all the world knows of his crime!" she exclaimed.
"The world forgets these things sooner than you suppose," he answered."I need a secretary, and in that position Tom Gates will quickly be ableto live down this unfortunate affair. And if he turns out as well as Iexpect, he will soon be able to marry Lucy and give her a comfortablehome. So now nothing remains but to find your girl, and we'll try to dothat, I assure you."
Mrs. Rogers was crying softly by this time, but it was from joy andrelief. When they left her she promised to be as cheerful as possibleand to look on the bright side of life.
"I can't thank you," she said, "so I won't try. You must know howgrateful we are to you."
As Beth and Kenneth drove back to Elmhurst they were both rather silent,for they had been strongly affected by the scene at the farm-house.
"It's so good of you, Ken, to take Tom Gates into your employ," said thegirl, pressing her cousin's arm. "And I'm sure he'll be true andgrateful."
"I really need him, Beth," said the boy. "There is getting to be toomuch correspondence for Mr. Watson to attend to, and I ought to relievehim of many other details. It's a good arrangement, and I'm glad Ithought of it."
They had almost reached Elmhurst when they met the Honorable ErastusHopkins driving along the road. On the seat beside him was a young girl,and as the vehicles passed each other Beth gave a start and clung to theboy's arm.
"Oh, Ken!" she cried, "did you see? Did you see that?"
"Yes; it's my respected adversary."
"But the girl! It's Lucy--I'm sure it's Lucy! She's the living image ofMrs. Rogers! Stop--stop--and let's go back!"
"Nonsense, Beth," said the boy. "It can't be."
"But it is. I'm sure it is!"
"I saw the girl," he said. "She was laughing gaily and talking with theHonorable Erastus. Is that your idea of the mad, broken-hearted LucyRogers?"
"N-no. She _was_ laughing, Ken, I noticed it."
"And she wasn't unhappy a bit. You mustn't think that every pretty girlwith dark eyes you meet is Lucy Rogers, you know. And there's anotherthing."
"What, Ken?"
"Any companion of Mr. Hopkins can be easily traced."
"That's true," answered the girl, thoughtfully. "I must have beenmistaken," she added, with a sigh.
Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work Page 11
