THE GARRET.
On the wide landing of the second story, the girls paused to draw breath
and look about them. The long gallery ran around three sides of the
house, with the stairs forming the fourth. It was hung with pictures,
save where two or three doors broke the wall-space. Singular pictures
they were, mostly family portraits, it was evident. Some of them were
very good, though the gems of the collection, the Copleys and Stuarts,
and the precious Sir Joshua Reynolds, were in the drawing-rooms below.
The girls ran from one to the other, and great was their delight to
recognise here and there one of the very gowns they had been admiring in
the Family Chest.
"Here is Henrietta Montfort, in the sea-green cloak!" cried Margaret.
"Look, girls, what a haughty, disagreeable face; I don't wonder her
family trembled before her."
"And here--oh, here is Hugo!" cried Peggy; "black velvet, she said. Look
here, Margaret!"
The portrait was that of a man in middle life, handsomely dressed in
black velvet, with hat and ruff. His face was sad, but the bright, dark
eyes looked intelligently at the girls, and the whole face had a
familiar look.
"He has a look of Papa," said Margaret softly; "it is a weaker face, but
there is a strong resemblance."
"_I_ think he looks like John Strong," said Peggy decidedly.
"My dear Peggy," said Rita, "I must pray that you will take less notice
of our uncle's gardener. What does it matter to you how he looks? I ask
you. Now that you are my sister I must teach you to forget this habit of
speaking to servants as if they were your equals. I overheard you the
other day conversing--absolutely conversing--with this man. Dear child,
it is wholly unsuitable. I tell you, and I know."
Margaret, who loved peace almost too well, was tempted to let this pass,
but her conscience shouted at her, and she spoke.
"I am sorry to have you regard John Strong as an ignorant or inferior
person, Rita," she said gently, knowing that she seemed priggish, but
encouraged by Peggy's confused and abashed look.
"I think that if you were to talk with him a little yourself, you would
feel differently. He is a very superior man, and Uncle John has the
highest opinion of him; Aunt Faith has told me so."
Rita shrugged her shoulders. "Really, _tres chere_," she said, "this is
a case in which it is not necessary, believe me, to go back a hundred
years. We hear about the manners of the _vieille ecole_; my faith, the
school may become too old!"
"Rita!" cried Margaret indignantly. "How can you?"
Rita only shrugged her shoulders; her eyes shone with the very spirit of
wilfulness.
"_Ma cousine_," she said, "it is a thousand pities that you cannot come
to Havana with me. The quality of being always virtuous--it is
abhorrent, _tres chere_; correct it, if possible. And the garret cries
out for us!" she said, turning away, with the straight line between her
eyes that meant mischief, as Margaret had already learned. She turned to
Peggy, who stood in some alarm, not knowing whether the old friend or
the new should claim her allegiance.
"_Allons!_" she cried. "The door, Peggy! which door will take us to this
place of joy? this one? _Hein!_ it is locked; it will not open."
"That must be Uncle John's room," said Peggy. "It is always locked. I--I
have tried it two or three times." And she stole a guilty glance, which
made the two older girls laugh outright.
"Fatima!" said Margaret, trying to speak lightly, though her heart still
burned from Rita's insolent words. "Peggy, it is a dangerous thing to
try doors in a house like Fernley."
"Oh, I dare say it is only a linen closet," said Peggy. "I shouldn't
have cared, only it is provoking not to be able to see what is in there.
But this is the garret door, this way. I went up part way once, but it
seemed so big and spooky, I didn't want to go all the way alone."
It was a big place, indeed, this garret! The girls looked about them in
wonder, as soon as their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light that came
from the small gable windows. The corners were black and deep,--miles
deep, poor Peggy thought, as she peered into them. Old furniture lay
about, broken chairs and gouty-legged tables. In one corner a huge chest
of drawers loomed, with round, hunched shoulders, as if it were leaning
forward to watch them; in another--oh, mercy! what was that?
The three caught sight at once of an object so terrifying that Rita and
Peggy both shrieked aloud, and turned to flee; but Margaret held them
back.
"Girls," she said, and her voice trembled a little, whether from
laughter or fear; "wait! It--it can't be what it looks like, you know!
It must--" She advanced cautiously a few steps, and began to laugh. It
certainly had looked at first like the figure of a man hanging from the
rafters; it proved to be only an innocent suit of clothes, dangling its
legs in a helpless way, and holding out its arms stiffly, as if in
salutation.
Recovering from their fear, the girls advanced again, Peggy giggling
nervously. "I thought it was him!" she whispered.
"_He_, not _him_," was on Margaret's lips, but she kept the words back.
She could not always be a schoolmistress; and then she scorned herself
for moral cowardice.
"Thought it was who, Peggy?" she asked. "Hugo Montfort?"
"Ye--yes!" said Peggy.
"But he did not hang himself, child! He wants to find his papers, that
is all. Ah, here are the trunks; now for the wigs, girls!"
The wig trunk proved a most delightful repository. The wigs were in neat
boxes; many of them were of horsehair, but a few were of human hair,
frizzed and tortured out of all softness or beauty. Dainty Margaret did
not incline to put them on, but Peggy was soon glorious in a huge white
structure, with a wreath of roses on the top, that made her look twice
her height. "Ain't I fine?" she cried. "Here, Margaret, here is one for
you."
Margaret twirled the wig around, and examined it curiously. "What they
all must have looked like!" she said. "This is a judge's wig, I think."
"Then it can fit none but you, Senorita Perfecta!" cried Rita; but the
sting was gone from her tone, and she had wholly forgotten her moment of
spite. "Here! here is mine. Behold me, a gallant of the court! I
advance, I bow--but my cloak, where is my cloak? Quick, Marguerite, the
key of the other chest!"
The other chest, a great black one, studded with brass nails, contained,
as Mrs. Cheriton had said, any amount of material for the delightful
pastime of dressing up. The gauzes were crumpled, to be sure, the gold
lace tarnished, and the satins and brocades more or less spotted and
decayed; but what of that? The splendours of the Family Chest were too
solemn to sport with; here was material for hours and days of joy. Rita
was soon arrayed in a scarlet military coat, a habit skirt of dark
velvet, and a plumed hat which perched like a bird on top of her flowing
wig. Peggy was put into a charming Watteau costume of flowered silk, in
which she looked so pretty that Rita declared it was a shame for her
ever to wear anything else; while Margaret found a long, gold-spotted
gauze that took her fancy mightily. Thus attired, the three girls
frisked and danced about the huge, dim old garret, astonishing the
spiders, and sending the mice scuttling into their holes in terror. The
seventeen years that sometimes weighed heavily on Margaret's slender
shoulders, and that sat like a flame of pride on Rita's white forehead,
seemed utterly forgotten; these were three merry children that ran to
and fro, waking the echoes to mirth. Rita proposed a dance, and cried
out in horror when Peggy confessed that she could not dance at all, and
Margaret that she had had few lessons and no experience.
[Illustration: IN THE GARRET.]
"Poor victims!" cried the Cuban. "Slaves of Northern prejudice! I will
teach you, my poors! Not to dance, not to understand the management of a
fan--how are you to go through life, without equipment, I ask you?"
She held out her arms with a gesture so tragic that Margaret could not
help laughing.
"Rita, forgive me!" she said. "I was trying to fancy my poor dear
father giving me a lesson in the management of a fan. He was really my
chief teacher, you know."
"Yes, and who was there for me to dance with?" cried Peggy, holding out
her gay flounces. "Brother Jim would be rather like a grizzly bear, I
think, and none of the others would. Jean and I used to dance with each
other, but it was just jumping up and down, for we didn't know anything
else."
Rita sighed, and felt the weight of empire on her shoulders. "You shall
learn," she said again. "I will teach you. But not here, it is too dim
and dusty. The courtesy, however, we can try. Mesdames! Raise the skirt,
thus, the left foot in advance; the _left_, Peggy, child of despair! now
bend the right knee, and slowly, slowly, sink thus, with grace and
dignity. Oh, pity on me, what have you done now?"
Poor Peggy had done her best, but when it came to sinking slowly and
gracefully, it was too much for her. She stepped on her train, tripped,
lost her balance, and fell heavily back against the wall. She clutched
the wooden panel behind her, and felt it move under her fingers.
"Oh, mercy!" she cried, "it's moving! The wall is moving! Margaret,
catch hold of my hand!"
Margaret caught her hand, and helped her to her feet. When she moved
away from the wall, it was seen that the wooden panel had indeed moved.
It had slid open a few inches, and blackness looked through at them.
Peggy clutched her cousins and trembled. Where was now the courage, the
coolness, which had made her the heroine of the morning's adventure?
Gone! Anything in the ordinary course of nature, bogs and such matters,
Peggy was mistress of, but black spaces, with possible white figures
lurking in them, were out of her province.
"Margaret," she whispered, "do you see? It is open!"
"Yes, I see!" said Margaret. "What a delightfully mysterious thing,
girls! A secret chamber, perhaps, or a staircase! It must be a
staircase, for it is in the thickness of the wall behind the chimney. Do
run and get a lamp, Peggy, like a good girl, and we will see. How damp
and earthy it smells!"
Peggy flew, only too glad to get away from the black, yawning hole. She
was back in three minutes with the lamp, and the three cousins peered
into the open space, Margaret holding the lamp high above her head, so
that the light might penetrate as far as possible.
It was indeed a staircase; a narrow, winding way, wide enough for one
person, but no more. It plunged down like a black pit, and its end could
not be seen.
"But this is superb!" cried Margaret. "Shall we explore it, girls? I
don't suppose there can be any objection, do you? It is probably never
used."
"By all means, let us explore!" said Rita. "But do you know what I am
thinking, Marguerite?"
"Something romantic and mysterious, I am sure!" said Margaret, smiling.
"Something practical and businesslike, rather, _tres chere_. I am
thinking that for a concealment, if a concealment were necessary, this
is the finest house in the world. Come on!"
Peggy hung back, her round cheeks pale with dread; but she could not
bear to be left behind; and as Margaret and Rita plunged down the
narrow stair, she followed, with beating heart. She had longed all her
breezy little life for mystery, adventure, something wonderful to happen
to her, with which she could impress and awe the younger children; now
it had really come, and her heart beat with mingled terror and
excitement.
Down--down--down. The lamplight shone on the rough walls of discoloured
plaster, the old steps creaked beneath their tread; that was all. Now
they came to a tiny landing, and something gleamed before them,--the
brass handle of a door. Margaret hesitated, fearing that they might be
trenching on forbidden ground; but Rita opened the door quickly, and
Peggy pressed down behind her.
They saw a room, like the other bedrooms in the house, large and airy.
It was evidently ready for use, the bed neatly made, everything in
spotless order. Brushes and shaving-tools lay on the dressing-bureau.
The table was covered with books.
"Uncle John's room!" whispered Margaret. "It must be, of course; and
this is where the locked door is on the second story. Come along,
girls; we ought not to go prying into people's rooms!"
"My faith, I cannot see that!" retorted Rita. "If there were anything of
interest in the room,--but nothing--a plain room, and nothing more! A
pretty thing to end a secret staircase; he should have shame for it. But
come, as you say; we have yet a way to go down."
They closed the door carefully, and once more began the descent.
Down--down--down. But this second half of the way was different. The
staircase was wider, and the walls were cased in wood. Moreover, it
showed marks of usage. The steps above were covered with thick dust,
evidently long undisturbed; but these were clean and shining. Decidedly,
the mystery was deepening.
"Suppose we find it is just a back way to the servants' rooms!"
whispered practical Margaret.
"Suppose feedle-dee-dee!" said Rita; and her funny little foreign accent
on the word made Peggy choke and splutter behind her.
Now they were evidently approaching the ground floor, for sounds were
audible below them: a footstep, and then the clink of metal, as if some
one were moving fire-irons.
"Elizabeth, probably!" whispered Margaret. "What shall we say to her?"
"Let's yell and rush out and scare her!" proposed Peggy.
"Hush!" said Rita. "Oh, hush! we know not who it is. Look! a gleam of
light,--the crack of a door! quick, the lamp!" and with a swift, silent
breath she blew out the lamp, and they were in total darkness.
They now saw plainly the light that shone through the crack of a door, a
few steps below them. The sounds in the room beneath had ceased. All was
still for a moment; then suddenly Peggy made a false step in the dark,
and stumbled; she uttered a smothered shriek, and then began to giggle.
"Animal!" muttered Rita through her teeth. "Can you not be silent?"
Peggy was now in front, and seeing that light came also through the
keyhole, she stooped and looked through it. The next instant she uttered
a dreadful shriek, and staggered back into Margaret's arms. "The man!"
she cried; "the man in black velvet!"
A chair was hastily pushed back in the room below; steps crossed the
floor, and as Margaret flung open the door, another door at the further
end of the room was seen to close softly.