Chapter 2 WHAT MADGE FOUND IN THE ATTIC

"Aunt Sue," declared Madge gravely, wrinkling her straight, dark eyebrows into a solemn frown, "there is only one thing that worries me about our second houseboat party: Nellie and I haven't enough pretty clothes."

Mrs. Butler looked as though she quite agreed with her niece. It was the day after Mrs. Curtis's hurried call.

"You see, it is this way, Auntie. On our first trip our houseboat was anchored in a quiet, out-of-the-way place. We met Mrs. Curtis only by accident and had a few parties at the Belleview Hotel. This time we are to be Mrs. Curtis's guests. Although the houseboat won't be on the Virginia side of the bay, because the water is much too rough there, we shall probably be crossing over to Fortress Monroe and Old Point and all the lovely places near. Mrs. Curtis will be sure to get up parties for us. We may even look on at some of the dances at Fortress Monroe. So Nellie and I ought each to have a new evening gown, besides our white silk gowns. Don't you think so?"

Aunt Sue sighed in answer to Madge's question.

"I don't see where new party gowns are to come from, dear. Even if I felt we could afford them, I simply haven't time to go to town to get the material for them. It has taken a great deal to get you and Nellie ready for school, since you will go directly to Miss Tolliver's when your houseboat party is over. Fortunately, your new school clothes will be suitable for most occasions, as the weather will probably be cool. Somehow I feel uneasy about this second houseboat party. I have a premonition that something will happen to you girls. Your uncle thinks I am absurd. He says you are very fortunate to have made a friend like Mrs. Curtis, and to have another opportunity to enjoy your houseboat. I suppose I am foolish." Mrs. Butler smiled nervously. "You know I am rather given to having premonitions, so don't concern yourself about anything I have said to you."

Mrs. Butler was a delicate, high-bred looking woman, with soft blue eyes and brown hair lightly streaked with gray, who was quite likely to be influenced by her wilful niece's opinions. It was in her Uncle William that Madge met her match.

"Nellie!" called Madge when her aunt had finished speaking, "please come in here. I want to persuade Auntie to do something that I am going to ask of her, and I wish you to help me."

Nellie appeared at the dining room door, her fingers stained with grape-juice. She was determined to help her mother with the jelly before she and her cousin left for their second houseboat holiday.

"You don't need any one's help when it comes to having your own way," retorted Mrs. Butler. "What do you wish this time?"

Madge lowered her voice. "Auntie, you know that upstairs in Mother's old trunk there are two rolls of silk-a roll of rose-color and one of turquoise blue. You have always said that Father brought them home to Mother from China just after I was born, and that Mother never had them made into dresses, because she died soon afterward, when Father failed to return from his trip."

Mrs. Butler bowed her head quietly. She looked away from her niece.

"Yes, that is what I have told you. I am saving the silks until you are older. You have very little else of your mother's except her jewelry."

Madge clasped her hands together pleadingly. "O Aunt Sue! why must I wait until I am grown for those silks? I wish you to give them to Nellie and me now. Please, please do. I am sure we are old enough to appreciate them. Nellie would be a perfect dream in the pink silk, and I should dearly love to have the blue. We never, never can need the dresses more than we do now! Why, in two or three years Nellie and I may be rich! Who knows? What is the use in keeping them for some future time, when Nellie and I need them at the present moment? You know we ought to have one handsome gown apiece, Auntie. Mrs. Curtis and Madeleine are always beautifully dressed."

"Yes, Mother, please let Madge have her way," entreated Nellie. "But I can't accept one of the frocks. I wouldn't take it away from you for the world."

"Very well, Auntie," replied Madge, with a little choke in her voice. "I am sorry I mentioned the subject to you. I don't care for the silks, then. I won't even look at them, unless Nellie will take one of them."

"Silly Madge!" remonstrated Eleanor, coming up behind her cousin and tweaking a loose curl of her auburn hair. "I know you wish me to share everything with you, and I thank you just the same. But, Madge, I can't accept one of those dresses. Don't you see, they were your mother's, and that makes all the difference in the world."

"I can't see what difference it makes if I wish to do it. You always divide everything you have with me, and I don't see why you can't let me be generous for once."

Madge's eyes were misty. The thought of her mother and father made it hard for her to speak without emotion. "Besides," she added, smiling in her charming fashion, "I will never wear a pink gown. No one need try to persuade me. It wouldn't be in keeping with my red hair!"

Eleanor put her arm around her cousin. She understood the little quaver in Madge's laughing voice.

"Of course I will have the dress, if you feel that way about it," she said gently. "And I shall adore it. Why, I can see myself in it this minute, with a pink rose fastened in my hair. But all this time you and I have been arguing Mother has not yet said that you could use the silks. Please consent, Mother; there's a dear."

Mrs. Butler looked grave. "I suppose it is all right," she hesitated. "The silks belong to Madge and she is old enough to decide what she wishes to do with them. Look in my left-hand bureau drawer, Madge; you will find the key to your mother's trunk there. The silks are in the bottom of the trunk, wrapped in a piece of old, yellow muslin. We might as well find out whether the material is still good before we decide what we will do about it. I must go back now to my jelly; it must be nearly done."

"Come up to the attic with me, won't you, Eleanor?" invited Madge.

Eleanor shook her head. She knew her cousin liked best to make these visits to her mother's trunk alone. "No," she answered, "I must help Mother with the jelly."

Nellie slipped quietly away and left Madge looking dreamily out on the elm-shaded lawn, her thoughts busy with the story of her own past and the little she knew of her father.

He had been a captain in the United States Navy, and one of the youngest officers in the service. The Mortons were an old Virginia family, and after Robert Morton's graduation from Annapolis he was rapidly promoted in the service. He had married Mrs. Butler's only sister, Eleanor, for whom Nellie was named. Two months after Madge's birth, while her husband was away on a cruise, Madge's mother died at her sister's home, and, as her father never came back to claim her, she had been brought up by her uncle and aunt. This was all she had been told of the story of her mother and father. It made her aunt unhappy to talk of them, so Madge had asked few questions as she grew to young womanhood. But to-day she felt that she would like to know whether her father had died and been buried at sea-she always thought of him as dead-or whether a tablet had ever been erected to his memory at Annapolis. She had never been to Annapolis, although it was not a great distance from Miss Tolliver's school, but she knew that the Government often honored its brave officers and sailors with these memorials.

She was thinking of these things as she left the dining room and climbed the steep, ladder-like stairs that led to the attic. The attic of "Forest House" was worth a longer journey than Madge had to make. It was built of solid cedar wood, with beams a foot thick over head, and put together with great cedar pegs. The attic was a long, low-ceilinged room, dark and fragrant with the odor of the cedar. It was lit by four big, old-fashioned dormer windows in the front and four in the rear.

Her mother's trunk was kept in one corner of the attic behind an old oak chest. Mrs. Butler did not wish to be haunted by sad memories when she made her frequent trips to her attic to look after the family clothing and bedding, so she had partly hidden her sister's trunk.

Madge opened the trunk in the half light. On top of everything was a pile of her first baby dresses. Farther down she came upon a sandalwood box containing her mother's jewelry. The box contained a beautiful and unusual collection of rare stones. Captain Morton had brought many of the jewels back from the Orient as presents to his wife.

Madge picked up a necklace of uncut turquoises, set in links of curiously carved dull gold. For an instant she looked at it, then slipped it over her head. There was also a tortoise-shell comb of wonderful beauty to match the necklace. The crown of the comb was formed of turquoises and pearls. Just in the center of the comb was a tiny scarab made of turquoises. The scarab Madge knew to be a beetle sacred to the Egyptians. She wondered if the beautiful set of jewelry had an unusual history. Madge put the comb in her hair, then plunged deeper into the lavender-scented trunk. Under a pile of old-fashioned gowns she found the bundle that she desired, tied up in yellow muslin just as her aunt had described it. Tucking it under her arm she hurried to the front windows and sat down Turk fashion on the floor. She wished to examine carefully the well-remembered silks. It had been several years since she had seen them, yet how well she recalled them! She and Nellie had never grown tired of marveling at the beautiful fabrics when, as little girls, they were allowed to glance at the silks by way of a special treat.

The young girl untied her precious bundle slowly. She gently unrolled the pink silk. It was a wonderful rose color, a pure Chinese silk, as light and soft as a butterfly's wing. Madge saw a vision of Nellie in this dress. It must be trimmed with an old collar of Venetian point lace, which was one of Mrs. Butler's heirlooms. Then she unrolled the blue silk. The material to be used for her frock was a Japanese crepe. It had a border of shaded blue and silver threads forming a design of orchids. It was too beautiful a costume for a young girl, Madge thought. She held her breath as she looked at it. Would her aunt allow her to use it?

Spying a broken mirror on an old bureau in the attic, she brought it over to the light and propped it against the back of a worn-out chair. Then she wrapped the blue silk about her shoulders and stared at herself in the mirror.

Madge was an exceedingly pretty young girl. This afternoon her face showed a promise of the unusual beauty that was to come to her later in life, when she had learned many things. There was a hint of tragedy in her charming, wayward nature. The friends who loved her knew that her path through life would not follow an easy and untroubled road. She could never do anything in a half-way fashion, whether it were to love or to hate, to be happy or to be miserable.

To-day her blue eyes were dark with wonder at her own appearance and with the memory of her dead mother and father. With the strange jewels in her hair and about her throat, the beautiful blue robe around her shoulders, little country-bred Madge looked as though she might have been a beautiful princess of the long ago.

Being free from vanity, however, she calmly folded up her silks, took off her jewels, and turned from the window to go downstairs to show her cousin her treasures.

At the door of the attic she paused and glanced back at the open trunk, then, walking slowly toward it, deposited her jewel box and armful of silks on the top of the old cedar chest and sat down before the trunk. What strange influence drew her back to it that day Madge could never explain. She knew only that the longing for the love of the father she had never seen, and the mother she could not remember, was strong within her.

"What made you leave me when I needed you so?" she murmured, half under her breath. Then she bowed her head on the edge of the trunk and her tears dropped on a little, old-fashioned black velvet coat that had been her mother's. Impulsively Madge caught it up and pressed it to her lips. After a long moment she laid it across her lap and began smoothing it with loving hands, tenderly tracing its lines with her forefinger. As she was about to fold it and lay it in its accustomed place her hand came in contact with something hard in the cuff of one sleeve between the velvet and the satin lining.

"What can it be?" she wondered, as she fingered it through the cloth. "It feels like a key. If I break two or three stitches, I can pull it out."

It was at least five minutes before she managed to make an opening large enough to admit the working out of the little hard object. As she had guessed, it was a small brass key with a bit of faded violet ribbon attached to it.

Madge looked curiously at it as it lay in her hand. To whom did the key belong? What did it unlock? Why had her mother sewed it into the sleeve of the black velvet coat? Or had her mother placed it there? The little captain sighed. She could ask endless questions concerning her find, but she could answer none of them.

"There may be a box in the trunk which I have overlooked," she reflected. "I never do things thoroughly."

Springing from the floor, Madge ran across the attic to where her aunt always kept a pile of brown wrapping paper. Tearing off a strip she carried it to her corner and, laying it on the floor at one side of her mother's trunk, sat down beside it. One by one, with reverent hands, she lifted the various garments from it, piling them over one another on the paper. But when the trunk, bereft of its last article, stood empty before her, she stared in disappointment at the pile of articles at her side. There was nothing in it that bore the slightest resemblance to a box.

"It's like 'hunting for a needle in a haystack,'" she mourned. "This key might fit a lock thousands of miles from here. It can't be the key to the trunk; it is too small." She bent forward to examine the lock. "No, the key to this trunk is ever so much larger. Perhaps the trunk has a false bottom!"

This being a positive inspiration, Madge set to work on the bottom of the trunk, her investigations meeting with no success. She was more disheartened than she cared to admit, even to herself, as she replaced the contents of the trunk and, reluctantly shutting down the lid, gathered up her treasures and went down the stairs with dragging feet. Her pleasure in the beautiful fabrics had vanished, and the longing to probe into the past of her dear ones was uppermost in her mind.

Her first impulse on entering the kitchen, where Eleanor and her mother still labored with the jelly, was to show them the little key. Then the same strange influence which had forced her to return to the trunk kept her silent. The finding of the little key should be her secret.

Mrs. Butler and Eleanor exclaimed admiringly over the silks. It was as though they were seeing them for the first time. Eleanor was delighted with the prospect of possessing an evening gown of the rose color, and the two girls were soon deep in planning the way in which they intended having their frocks made.

"May I keep Mother's jewel box with me, Aunt Sue?" asked Madge an hour later, as she rose to go to her room, her roll of blue silk tucked under one arm, the sandalwood box in her hand.

"Of course you may, my dear. As long as you are going to use the silks you might as well take the jewels too," sighed Mrs. Butler.

"Thank you," returned her niece, bending to kiss the older woman's cheek, then she walked quietly from the room, her cheerful face unusually sober.

"Madge is always sad after a visit to her mother's trunk," remarked Eleanor, after her cousin had gone.

Mrs. Butler nodded, her own face saddened as she went back over the years. Some day she would tell Madge the truth concerning her father and why he had never returned to the homestead, but not now. She did not wish to cast the slightest shadow upon her niece's joyous anticipations of the coming trip.

Once in her room Madge took the little key from the pocket of her middy blouse and laid it on her dressing table. Drawing up a chair, she sat down, and opening the jewel box, began taking out the ornaments, spreading them on the table before her. To her eyes, unaccustomed to the sight of jewelry, they made an imposing array. When the last trinket was out she turned her attention to the box itself. Empty, it was larger and deeper than she supposed. Despite the fact that the jewelry had been removed it was still heavy.

"It must be the weight of the wood that makes it feel heavy," she reflected. "Why, it has a keyhole! I never noticed that before, it is so far down, and, besides, the box has been unlocked ever since I can remember."

She carefully examined the keyhole, then, with a swift rush of disappointment, came the thought that the mysterious key was merely that of the sandalwood box. To be sure, there were two little brass catches which fastened the box tightly together. The lock had been put on, no doubt, as an extra security, and rarely, if ever, used. But if such were the case, why had the key been secreted in the sleeve of the black velvet coat? After all, it might not fit the lock on the box. If it did, then her secret was not really a secret after all. Madge reached for the object of her cogitations and inserted it in the lock. It fitted. She gave it one quick turn, then endeavored to pull it out. It stuck. Madge held the back of the box with one hand to keep it from slipping and pulled hard. She felt the box itself give. Then to her astonishment she saw that the lower part of the box formed a drawer, the existence of which was cunningly hidden by the carving, and it now stood open before her. In it lay a small black leather book, and under the book was a single envelope addressed to her mother.

With wondering eyes the girl peered into the envelope. Her hands shook as she drew forth several closely written sheets of paper. Unfolding them she saw only the salutation, "Beloved"; then she turned to the signature. It read, "Your devoted husband, Robert Morton."

Madge gazed in fascination at her father's clear, bold handwriting. If it were in the least indicative of character, her father must have been a good man and true. Undoubtedly he had proved himself an honor to the Navy and the Flag he had sworn to serve. She experienced a curious thrill of satisfaction at this thought. Tearing her eyes from the beloved name, she went back to the first page of the letter and began to read, but when she reached the end of the second page she cried out in anguish, and, laying her curly head on the dressing table, sobbed heart-brokenly.

"I can't bear it!" she wailed. "O Father, Father! how could they be so cruel?" After a few moments she raised her head with a long, quivering sigh, and went on with the letter. When she had finished it, she took up the little black book. Her tears fell fast as she perused its pages. It was her father's log book and contained, besides the notes concerning his last fateful voyage as a naval officer, memoranda of his personal life aboard ship as well.

Over the last half dozen pages-the record ended abruptly-Madge's grief burst forth anew. After she had finished she sat for a long time holding the little book against her cheek. The distant ringing of the supper bell brought her to a realization of her surroundings. Tenderly she laid the book and the letter in the secret drawer that had held them so faithfully, inviolate from the eyes of the world; then, locking the drawer she withdrew the key, and, taking from a box on the dressing table a slender gold chain, her only bit of ornament outside her mother's jewelry, Madge opened the catch and hung the key upon it.

"It will be safe there," she said half aloud. "But now I have a secret worth keeping until I find the man who spoiled my father's life. And when I do"-Madge's red lips set in a determined line-"I'll make him tell the truth about Father to the whole world."