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Page 68
Mrs. Curtis came so close to the sick girl's bed that Madge and Phil
stepped back to let her have the nearest place. She leaned over and
looked at Mollie as though she would never grow tired of gazing at her.
Once her lips moved, but it was impossible to tell what she said. Then
Mrs. Curtis's strength seemed to give way. She dropped on her knees,
with her arms resting on the edge of Mollie's bed.
Ten minutes passed. No one moved or spoke in the tiny cabin chamber.
Mollie slept peacefully. Mrs. Curtis did not stir. She was like a
figure carved in stone. She was waiting for something to happen. Was
it for the girl on the bed to speak again?
Madge and Phil scarcely dared to breathe. They did not understand the
situation, but they felt themselves to be in the presence of a mystery.
A drama was being enacted in the tiny room, and they were the only
audience to it.
"Mother, where are you?" Mollie's voice sounded clear and strong.
"I am here," Mrs. Curtis replied softly, not stirring from her position
by the bed.
"Why hasn't Tom been here to see me? And why are Phyllis and Madge so
good to me? I don't understand."
Mollie turned restlessly on her pillow. Her hair fell away from her
forehead and revealed the jagged, ugly scar. Mrs. Curtis saw it. For
the first time she gave an involuntary shudder of emotion. Mollie put
up her hand to her head with the old, familiar gesture of pain.
"My head hurts," she announced, as though she had not known of her
injury before. "Have I been sick a long time? Somehow, you look so
different."
Mrs. Curtis nodded. "Yes, daughter, you have been ill a long, long
time. But you will be well and happy when you wake up again. You are
with Mother now."
Mrs. Curtis gathered Mollie into her arms and the two girls stole out
of the tiny cabin, closing the door behind them. The mother and
daughter were alone.
"What has happened to you, Madge Morton? Why do you girls look so
strangely at me?" demanded Tom Curtis as he caught sight of Madge's
face. He was leaning against the deck rail staring curiously at his
friends. "Is Mollie worse?"
"Oh, no; she is not worse. She is well. That is, she can remember.
She is---- Oh, I don't know what I am saying," cried Madge in
confusion.
Miss Jenny Ann came out of the sitting room. Lillian and Eleanor also
joined the little group on deck. Still Madge was silent.
"Ought I to tell?" she faltered, looking at Phyllis. "Don't you think
Mrs. Curtis ought to tell Tom?"
"If you have bad news for me speak quickly!" returned Tom. "I would
rather hear it from you than anybody in the world. You are almost like
a sister to me, Madge."
The little captain went forward and put her hand gently on Tom's arm.
"You won't need me for a sister now, Tom," she said gently. "Phil and
I do not understand what has happened. Your mother will have to
explain to you. But our Mollie is not Mollie at all. Her name is
Madeleine. Her memory has come back to her. She thinks your mother is
her mother. And Mrs. Curtis called her daughter!"
The cabin door opened. Mrs. Curtis walked out, moving like a woman in
a dream. "Don't speak loudly," she said. "Madeleine has gone to
sleep." She crossed over to Tom. "Tom," she explained quietly, "the
girls have found your sister after twelve years; my baby is a young
woman."
Tom put his arm about his mother. Mrs. Curtis spoke rapidly now, as
though she feared her voice would fail her. "Miss Jones, years ago my
little daughter, who was ten years old, fell from our steam yacht. She
had been left alone by her nurse for a few minutes. When the woman
came back the child was not to be found. No one saw or heard her fall
overboard. The boat was searched, but Madeleine had disappeared. We
were off the coast of Florida. For months and months we searched for
my daughter's body. We offered everything we had in the world for news
of her. No word came. I used to think she would come back to me.
Long ago I gave up hope. Now, when I saw this poor Mollie, I thought I
recognized my child, and when she opened her eyes her memory returned
to her. She knew I was her mother, in spite of my white hair. I think
it is because she now remembers nothing of her unhappy past. She
thinks she was hurt only a short time ago. She must not learn the
truth until she is stronger. Will you keep me here with you until I
can take my daughter home?"
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