"Why did Captain Lloyd drop his family name?"
"Because he desired to lose his identity after a certain tragedy in his family."
"Give a full account of that tragedy."
"After graduating from West Point I was ordered West, and I did not see Captain Lloyd until seven years later. I found him greatly changed from the kindly, happy boy I had known in former days. After we had been together for a month we drifted into our old friendly ways, and one night Lloyd confided his troubles to me and why he had dropped his surname.
"Three years before that date, when on a visit in the West, he had met a very pretty, charming girl, became infatuated with her, and after a brief courtship they were married. Shortly after the honeymoon they both realized they had made a fearful mistake. She had married Lloyd for the social position his name could give her. She found that Lloyd hated society and would go nowhere. He was also comparatively poor and could not supply her with the luxuries her shallow nature craved. So they endured a parrot and monkey life of it. After the birth of their baby there was continuous friction, for Lloyd declared that to cut down expenses to meet additional bills they would have to live in a farm house which he owned near a village in New Jersey.
"They moved there and things went from bad to worse. Mrs. Irving hated the village people. Their church socials and the sewing circles seemed to mock her; for she craved balls and brilliant receptions. She never troubled to return the calls of the friendly farmers' wives, and finally she was shunned. Lloyd, who went to and from his work every day, was wrapped up in the baby, a sickly little girl, and paid but little attention to his wife's tempers.
"One day, driven to desperation by the monotony of her existence, for which she chiefly had herself to blame, Mrs. Irving decided to leave Lloyd. He had been sent to Philadelphia to investigate a criminal case, and was expected back the next afternoon. Mrs. Irving dismissed her servant, and at noon the next day, after writing a note to Lloyd, she shut up the house and trudged into town, reaching the station in time to catch the train to the city."
Goddard stopped his long narrative, and cleared his throat nervously. Nancy had never taken her eyes from him, and, as if he felt their appeal, he turned and spoke as if addressing her alone.
"Unfortunately, Lloyd was detained in Philadelphia by illness. When he reached his home he found his house closed, his wife gone, and his delicate baby dead from starvation and exposure in the bitter weather. His farm was on a little-frequented road; his nearest neighbor six miles away. No one had noticed the closed house; no one had approached near enough to hear the baby's cries.
"From that moment Lloyd was a changed man. He waited until after his child was buried; then started in pursuit of her unnatural mother. I do not suppose," added Goddard hastily, "that it ever occurred to Mrs. Bennett that Lloyd might be prevented from returning home that afternoon. She had no particular affection for the child, and decided that having a baby with her would be a drag. She also undoubtedly reasoned that Lloyd would not trouble to find her, but if she took the child away he would instantly institute a search for her.