“No, I don’t know her,” repeated Kitty. “I don’t believe she was invited to the wedding, for I looked over the list of invitations. Still, her name may have been there. The list was so very long.”
“And now there’ll be no wedding and no guests.”
“No,” said Kitty; “only guests at a far different ceremony.” Again the deep violet eyes filled with tears, and Fessenden was conscious of a longing to comfort and help the poor little girl thrown thus suddenly into the first tragedy of her life.
“It would be dreadful enough if she had died from an illness,” he said; “but this added awfulness——”
“Yes,” interrupted Kitty; “but to me the worst part is for them to say she killed herself,—and I know she didn’t. Why, Maddy was too fine and big-natured to do such a cowardly thing.”
“She seemed so to me, too, though of course I didn’t know her so well as you did.”
“No, I’m one of her nearest friends,—though Madeleine was never one to have really intimate friends. But as her friend, I want to try to do what I can to put her right in the face of the world. And you said you’d help me.”
She looked at Fessenden with such hopefully appealing eyes, that he would willingly have helped her in any way he could, but he also realized that it was a very serious proposition this young girl was making.
“I will help you, Miss French,” he said gravely. “I know little of the details of the case, but if there is the slightest chance that you may be right, rest assured that you shall be given every chance to prove it.”
Kitty French gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you,” she said earnestly; “but I’m afraid we cannot do much, however well we intend. Of course I’m merely a guest here, and I have no authority of any sort. And, too, to prove that Maddy did not kill herself would mean having a detective and everything like that.”