not accuse his superior officer. He bore the
disgrace and went away, disappearing soon afterward. If your father had
not disappeared, my grandfather would not have continued to let Captain
Morton suffer for his superior's fault. But later he heard that your
father was dead, so he lost the courage to bring up the old story and
clear your father's name.

"Then"--for the first time Flora faltered--"I tried to disgrace you by
bringing up the past, and I am punished for it instead of you.
Grandfather now says he is willing to take the blame of your father's
disgrace upon himself and confess everything to the naval authorities.
Whether your father is alive or dead, he will clear his name and
yours."

The tears of age were streaming down the old man's face. He was
seventy-five years old and had already been retired from the Navy.

There was a brief instant of hesitation on Madge's part, then she
marched straight to Admiral Gifford and took his hand.

"Thank you," she simply said to him and to Flora. "It is wonderful for
you to tell this, after all these years, for my father's and my sake. I
can see why you never told of your command to my father when he
disappeared and you believed that no one would be hurt by your silence.
Admiral Gifford, in these last few weeks since I have been here near
Fortress Monroe I have come to know what an officer's reputation means
to him. If my father is dead, I shall ask you never to tell what you
have just told us, but, if he is alive and we find him, Admiral
Gifford, you will have to do as your conscience dictates. On the night
when Miss Harris denounced my father I declared that I could retaliate.
I knew at that time what you have just told me. A few days before we
came to Old Point I was going through my mother's trunk. In a secret
compartment of her jewel box I found a letter in my father's
handwriting addressed to her, and a little black log book. The book
told the story of my father's dark hour, the letter to my mother was
the out-pouring of his tortured heart. Through it I learned the name of
the man whose reputation he saved at the cost of his own honor. I made
a vow, then, that I would find this man and force him to clear my
father's name, but when I learned on that bitter night that it was an
old man, who had been considered worthy of an admiralship, I weakened.
I felt that my father would not wish such retaliation even to bring
back his good name. That was my secret. I am glad I