“I am coming to think that he is not in his right mind,” said David, a surprising charity springing up in him.
“And do you know what they are waiting for now?” she asked vehemently.
“I cannot tell, save that it is for you.”
“They want me to sign a marriage settlement. Oh, what a vile world!”
“Not a vile world, dear; nor are its humans altogether bad. Even this Van Hupfeldt, or Strauss, seems to have loved your sister. And she did love him. Poor girl! She meant to kill herself on his account, owing to some secret he revealed to her, something about another woman who had adopted him as her son. That was not clear in her story. She purposely kept the definite things out of her diary.”
The girl’s mind was driven back, with quick rebound, to the memory of her sister’s fate. The mere mention of the name of Strauss touched a poignant chord. Strauss was a blacker, more Satanic creature in her imagination than Van Hupfeldt. She wrenched herself free and sprang toward the door.
“Do you swear that you are telling me the truth?” she cried.
“I swear it.”
“Then I go now to meet him, and his lawyer, and my mother. Poor mother! How she will suffer!”