A Crooked Path Part 25

"Perhaps, if I wait a little longer, this admirable Mr. Newton may find something," resumed Mrs. Fred, pausing, and reluctant to move.

"If he does I will let you know immediately," said Katherine; "but there are numbers of little drawers in the bureau; it will take him a long time to look through them all."

"Have you seen the inside of it?" asked Mrs. Fred, greedily.

"I have seen my uncle writing at it," returned Katherine; "but I never had an opportunity of examining it."

"Well, I suppose I had better go. I am evidently not wanted here!"

exclaimed Mrs. Frederic, longing to quarrel with some one, being in that condition of mind aptly described as "not knowing what to be at."

Finding no help from her auditors, she went reluctantly away.

"I wish poor Ada would not allow her imagination to run away with her.

It will be such a disappointment when she finds it is all much ado about nothing," said Mrs. Liddell, as she returned to her letter. "I am afraid, Katie dear, you have had a great shock; you do not look a bit like yourself."

"I feel dazed and stupid, but I dare say I shall be all right to-morrow." She took a book and pretended to read, while her mother's pen scratched lightly and quickly over the paper.

The light was beginning to change, when a message from Mr. Newton summoned both mother and daughter to the sitting-room, where they found him awaiting them.

"I have looked most carefully through the bureau, and can find no sign of the will. There are various papers and account-books, a very clear statement of his affairs, and about a hundred and fifteen pounds of ready money, but no will. I have also looked in his writing-table drawer, his wardrobe, and every possible and impossible place. It may be at my office, though I am under the impression he took charge of it himself. There is a possibility he may have deposited it at his banker's or his stock-broker's, though that is not probable."

"It is curious," remarked Mrs. Liddell, feeling she must say something.

"Pray," resumed Newton, addressing Katherine, "have you ever seen him tearing up or burning papers?"

She thought for a moment, and then said quietly, "No, I never have."

"I can do no more here, at least to-day," Newton went on. "I must bid you a good-afternoon. You may be sure I will leave nothing undone to discover the missing will, and I can only say I earnestly hope I may not be successful."

CHAPTER X.

"FRUITION."

The funeral over, Mrs. Liddell and her daughter went back to their modest home, feeling as though they had pa.s.sed through some strange dream, which had vanished, leaving "not a wrack behind."

To Katherine it was like fresh life to return to the natural cheerful routine of her daily cares and employments, to struggle good-humoredly with indifferent servants, to do battle with her little nephews over their lessons, to walk with them and tell them stories. At times she almost forgot that the diligently sought will lay in its innocent-looking cover among her clothes, or that any results would flow from her daring and criminal act; then again the consciousness of having weighted her life with a secret she must never reveal would press painfully upon her, and make her greedy for the moment when Mr. Newton would relinquish the search, and she should reap the harvest she expected.

She never believed that her uncle was as rich as Ada supposed, but she did hope for a small fortune which might secure comfort and ease.

Mrs. Frederic Liddell was a real affliction during this period. The idea of inheriting John Liddell's supposed wealth was never absent from her thoughts, and seldom from her lips. Even the boys were infected by her gorgeous antic.i.p.ations.

"I shall have a pony like that, and a groom to ride beside me," Cecil would cry when his attention was caught by any young equestrian. "And I will give you a ride, auntie. Shall you have a carriage too, or will you drive with mammy?"

"And I shall have a beautiful dog, like Mrs. Burnett's, and a garden away in the country," was Charlie's scheme. "You shall come and dig in it, auntie."

"Do not think of such things, my dears," was auntie's usual reply. "I am afraid we shall never be any richer than we are; so you must be diligent boys, and work hard to make fortunes for yourselves."

"Where did Uncle Liddell keep all his money?" was one of Cecil's questions in reply. "Did he keep it in big bags downstairs? He hadn't a nice house; it was quite a nasty one."

"Had he a big place in a cave, with trees that grow rubies and diamonds and beautiful things?" added Charlie.

"Why doesn't mamma buy us some ponies now?" continued Cis; "we should be some time learning to ride."

"I will not listen to you any more if you talk so foolishly. Try and think of something else--of the Christmas pantomime. You know grannie says you shall go if you do your lessons well," returned Katherine.

"It isn't silly!" exclaimed Cecil. "Mammy tells us we must take care of her when we are rich men, and that we shall be able to hold up our heads as high as any one. _I_ can hold up my head _now_."

Such conversations were of frequent occurrence, and kept Katherine in a state of mental irritation.

Toward the end of October Mrs. Burnett brought relief in the shape of an invitation to Mrs. Frederic.

The Burnett family were spending the "dark days before Christmas" at Brighton, and thither hied the lively young widow in great glee. Things generally went smoother in her absence; the boys were more obedient, the meals more punctual.

Nevertheless Katherine observed that her mother did not settle to her writing as usual. Occasionally she shut herself up in the study, but when Katherine came in unexpectedly she generally found her resting her elbow on the table and her head on her hand, gazing at the blank sheet before her, or leaning back in her chair, evidently lost in thought.

"You do not seem to take much to your writing, mother dear," said Katherine one morning as she entered and sat down on a stool beside her.

"In truth I cannot, Katie. I do not know how it is, but no plots will come. I have generally been able to devise something on which to hang my characters and events; but my invention, such as it is--or rather was--seems dried up and withered. What shall I do if my slight vein is exhausted? Heaven knows I produced nothing very original or remarkable, but my lucubrations were saleable, and I do not see how we can do without this source of income."

"You only want rest," returned Katherine, taking her hand and laying her cheek against it. "Your fancy wants a quiet sleep, and then it will wake up fresh and bright. Take a holiday; put away pen, ink, and paper; and you will be able to write a lovely story long before the money we expect for your novel is expended."

"I hope so." She paused, and then resumed, with a sigh: "I ought to have more sense and self-control at my age, but I confess that the uncertainty about John Liddell's will absorbs me. Suppose, Katie, that his money were to come to you. Imagine you and I rich enough not to be afraid of the week after next! Why, our lives would be too blissful."

"They would," murmured Katherine. "When do you think we shall know?"

"I cannot tell. All possible search must be made before the law can be satisfied. My own impression is that your uncle _did_ destroy his will, intending to make a different distribution of his money, and to provide for you."

"Yes, I believe he did," said Katherine, quietly. "I wish--oh, I _do_ wish my uncle had had time to divide his property between us all; then there would be no ill feeling. But I suppose Cis and Charlie will get some, even if no will is found?"

"I have no idea. If poor Fred had lived, I suppose he would take a share."

They sat silent for some minutes. Then Kate rose and very deliberately shut up her mother's writing-book, collected her papers and rough note-book, and locked them away in her drawer. "Now, dearest mother,"

she said, "promise me not to open that drawer for ten days at least, unless a very strong inspiration comes to you. By that time we may know something certain about the will, and at any rate you will have had change of occupation. Then put on your bonnet and let us go to see our friend Mrs. Wray. Perhaps she may let us see her husband's studio, and if he is there we are sure to have some interesting talk. We both sorely need a change of ideas."

Mrs. Frederic Liddell returned from Brighton in a very thoughtful mood.

She said she had had a "heavenly visit." Such nice weather--such a contrast to dirty, dreary, depressing London! She had met several old acquaintances, they had had company every night, and had she only had a third evening dress her bliss would have been complete. As it was, a slight sense of inferiority had taken the keen edge off her joy. "At any rate, the men didn't seem to think there was much amiss with me. Sir Ralph Brereton and Colonel Ormonde were really quite troublesome. I do not much like Sir Ralph. I never know if he is laughing at me or not, though I am sure I do not think there is anything to laugh at in me.

Colonel Ormonde is so kind and sensible! Do you know, Mrs. Liddell, he says _I_ ought to see Mr. Newton myself, to look after the interests of my darling boys, and--and try to ascertain the true state of affairs.

That is what Colonel Ormonde says, and I suppose you wouldn't mind, Mrs.

Liddell?" she ended, in a rather supplicating tone; for she was just a little in awe of her mother-in-law, kind and indulgent though she was.

"Go and see Mr. Newton by all means, Ada, if you feel it would be any satisfaction to you; but until the right time comes it will be very useless to make any inquiries. We leave it all to Mr. Newton."

"Oh, you and Katherine are so cold and immovable; you are not a bit like me. I am all sensitiveness and impulse. Well, if it is not raining cats and dogs I _will_ go into that awful City and see Mr. Newton to-morrow."