Madge Mortons Secret | Page 6

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