CHAPTER VII.
THE GARRET.
On the wide landing of the second story, the girls paused to draw breathand look about them. The long gallery ran around three sides of thehouse, with the stairs forming the fourth. It was hung with pictures,save where two or three doors broke the wall-space. Singular picturesthey were, mostly family portraits, it was evident. Some of them werevery 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 torecognise here and there one of the very gowns they had been admiring inthe Family Chest.
"Here is Henrietta Montfort, in the sea-green cloak!" cried Margaret."Look, girls, what a haughty, disagreeable face; I don't wonder herfamily trembled before her."
"And here--oh, here is Hugo!" cried Peggy; "black velvet, she said. Lookhere, Margaret!"
The portrait was that of a man in middle life, handsomely dressed inblack velvet, with hat and ruff. His face was sad, but the bright, darkeyes looked intelligently at the girls, and the whole face had afamiliar look.
"He has a look of Papa," said Margaret softly; "it is a weaker face, butthere 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 noticeof our uncle's gardener. What does it matter to you how he looks? I askyou. Now that you are my sister I must teach you to forget this habit ofspeaking to servants as if they were your equals. I overheard you theother 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 inferiorperson, Rita," she said gently, knowing that she seemed priggish, butencouraged by Peggy's confused and abashed look.
"I think that if you were to talk with him a little yourself, you wouldfeel differently. He is a very superior man, and Uncle John has thehighest opinion of him; Aunt Faith has told me so."
Rita shrugged her shoulders. "Really, _tres chere_," she said, "this isa case in which it is not necessary, believe me, to go back a hundredyears. We hear about the manners of the _vieille ecole_; my faith, theschool may become too old!"
"Rita!" cried Margaret indignantly. "How can you?"
Rita only shrugged her shoulders; her eyes shone with the very spirit ofwilfulness.
"_Ma cousine_," she said, "it is a thousand pities that you cannot cometo Havana with me. The quality of being always virtuous--it isabhorrent, _tres chere_; correct it, if possible. And the garret criesout for us!" she said, turning away, with the straight line between hereyes that meant mischief, as Margaret had already learned. She turned toPeggy, who stood in some alarm, not knowing whether the old friend orthe new should claim her allegiance.
"_Allons!_" she cried. "The door, Peggy! which door will take us to thisplace 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--Ihave tried it two or three times." And she stole a guilty glance, whichmade the two older girls laugh outright.
"Fatima!" said Margaret, trying to speak lightly, though her heart stillburned from Rita's insolent words. "Peggy, it is a dangerous thing totry doors in a house like Fernley."
"Oh, I dare say it is only a linen closet," said Peggy. "I shouldn'thave 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 itseemed 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 inwonder, as soon as their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light that camefrom the small gable windows. The corners were black and deep,--milesdeep, poor Peggy thought, as she peered into them. Old furniture layabout, broken chairs and gouty-legged tables. In one corner a huge chestof drawers loomed, with round, hunched shoulders, as if it were leaningforward to watch them; in another--oh, mercy! what was that?
The three caught sight at once of an object so terrifying that Rita andPeggy both shrieked aloud, and turned to flee; but Margaret held themback.
"Girls," she said, and her voice trembled a little, whether fromlaughter 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. Itcertainly had looked at first like the figure of a man hanging from therafters; it proved to be only an innocent suit of clothes, dangling itslegs in a helpless way, and holding out its arms stiffly, as if insalutation.
Recovering from their fear, the girls advanced again, Peggy gigglingnervously. "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 herselffor 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, thatis all. Ah, here are the trunks; now for the wigs, girls!"
The wig trunk proved a most delightful repository. The wigs were in neatboxes; many of them were of horsehair, but a few were of human hair,frizzed and tortured out of all softness or beauty. Dainty Margaret didnot incline to put them on, but Peggy was soon glorious in a huge whitestructure, with a wreath of roses on the top, that made her look twiceher height. "Ain't I fine?" she cried. "Here, Margaret, here is one foryou."
Margaret twirled the wig around, and examined it curiously. "What theyall 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 thesting was gone from her tone, and she had wholly forgotten her moment ofspite. "Here! here is mine. Behold me, a gallant of the court! Iadvance, I bow--but my cloak, where is my cloak? Quick, Marguerite, thekey 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 delightfulpastime of dressing up. The gauzes were crumpled, to be sure, the goldlace tarnished, and the satins and brocades more or less spotted anddecayed; but what of that? The splendours of the Family Chest were toosolemn to sport with; here was material for hours and days of joy. Ritawas soon arrayed in a scarlet military coat, a habit skirt of darkvelvet, and a plumed hat which perched like a bird on top of her flowingwig. Peggy was put into a charming Watteau costume of flowered silk, inwhich she looked so pretty that Rita declared it was a shame for herever to wear anything else; while Margaret found a long, gold-spottedgauze that took her fancy mightily. Thus attired, the three girlsfrisked and danced about the huge, dim old garret, astonishing thespiders, and sending the mice scuttling into their holes in terror. Theseventeen years that sometimes weighed heavily on Margaret's slendershoulders, and that sat like a flame of pride on Rita's white forehead,seemed utterly forgotten; these were three merry children that ran toand fro, waking the echoes to mirth. Rita proposed a dance, and criedout in horror when Peggy confessed that she could not dance at all, andMargaret that she had had few lessons and no experience.
IN THE GARRET.]
"Poor victims!" cried the Cuban. "Slaves of Northern prejudice! I willteach you, my poors! Not to dance, not to understand the management of afan--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 nothelp laughing.
"Rita, forgive me!" she said. "I was trying to fancy my poor dearfather giving me a lesson in the management of a fan. He was really mychief teacher, you know."
"Yes, and who was there for me to dance with?" cried Peggy, holding outher gay flounces. "Brother Jim would be rather like a grizzly bear, Ithink, and none of the others would. Jean and I used to dance with eachother, but it was
just jumping up and down, for we didn't know anythingelse."
Rita sighed, and felt the weight of empire on her shoulders. "You shalllearn," she said again. "I will teach you. But not here, it is too dimand dusty. The courtesy, however, we can try. Mesdames! Raise the skirt,thus, the left foot in advance; the _left_, Peggy, child of despair! nowbend the right knee, and slowly, slowly, sink thus, with grace anddignity. Oh, pity on me, what have you done now?"
Poor Peggy had done her best, but when it came to sinking slowly andgracefully, it was too much for her. She stepped on her train, tripped,lost her balance, and fell heavily back against the wall. She clutchedthe 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 movedaway 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, thecoolness, 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 figureslurking 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 astaircase, for it is in the thickness of the wall behind the chimney. Dorun and get a lamp, Peggy, like a good girl, and we will see. How dampand earthy it smells!"
Peggy flew, only too glad to get away from the black, yawning hole. Shewas back in three minutes with the lamp, and the three cousins peeredinto the open space, Margaret holding the lamp high above her head, sothat the light might penetrate as far as possible.
It was indeed a staircase; a narrow, winding way, wide enough for oneperson, but no more. It plunged down like a black pit, and its end couldnot be seen.
"But this is superb!" cried Margaret. "Shall we explore it, girls? Idon't suppose there can be any objection, do you? It is probably neverused."
"By all means, let us explore!" said Rita. "But do you know what I amthinking, Marguerite?"
"Something romantic and mysterious, I am sure!" said Margaret, smiling.
"Something practical and businesslike, rather, _tres chere_. I amthinking that for a concealment, if a concealment were necessary, thisis the finest house in the world. Come on!"
Peggy hung back, her round cheeks pale with dread; but she could notbear to be left behind; and as Margaret and Rita plunged down thenarrow stair, she followed, with beating heart. She had longed all herbreezy little life for mystery, adventure, something wonderful to happento her, with which she could impress and awe the younger children; nowit had really come, and her heart beat with mingled terror andexcitement.
Down--down--down. The lamplight shone on the rough walls of discolouredplaster, the old steps creaked beneath their tread; that was all. Nowthey came to a tiny landing, and something gleamed before them,--thebrass handle of a door. Margaret hesitated, fearing that they might betrenching on forbidden ground; but Rita opened the door quickly, andPeggy 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 inspotless 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; andthis 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 ofinterest in the room,--but nothing--a plain room, and nothing more! Apretty thing to end a secret staircase; he should have shame for it. Butcome, 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. Thestaircase was wider, and the walls were cased in wood. Moreover, itshowed 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 accenton the word made Peggy choke and splutter behind her.
Now they were evidently approaching the ground floor, for sounds wereaudible below them: a footstep, and then the clink of metal, as if someone 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 oflight,--the crack of a door! quick, the lamp!" and with a swift, silentbreath 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, afew steps below them. The sounds in the room beneath had ceased. All wasstill 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 thekeyhole, she stooped and looked through it. The next instant she uttereda 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 thefloor, and as Margaret flung open the door, another door at the furtherend of the room was seen to close softly.
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