CHAPTER VIII.
THE FIRST NEWS OF DOLLIE.
As soon as Marion had recovered from her surprise at discovering the familiar jewels in such an unexpected manner in this little shop, she determined to make some inquiries.
“Will you please tell me where you got those?” she asked of the big nosed Israelite behind the counter, at the same time pointing to the topazes in the window.
“I comes honestly by doze, is dat vat you vant to know?” said the shopkeeper, shrewdly. He was on his guard instantly, and had no notion of parting with the jewels. From the nature of the place and its surroundings Marion easily guessed that it was one of those establishments where the possessor of jewelry is not too closely questioned as to where it was obtained, so long as he is willing to sell it at a low price. In other words a place where stolen goods are bought and sold.
“I don’t want them,” said Marion quickly, as she guessed what he meant, “I just want to get the address of the person that left them here. She is a friend of mine, the woman who owned them, and I want to find her if she is in the city.”
The man looked at her sharply and saw that he had nothing to fear.
“I tells nottings,” he said, crossly, “except dat I bought them vrom a man vot I nefer saw before.”
“Then it was not a lady who left them,” said the country girl, quickly.
“I tells nottings more,” repeated the man.
Marion left the shop, being unable to elicit further information. She was satisfied now that Mr. Lawson was in the city—or was it Bert who had pawned them? It lay between them.
“I am sure it was Lawson,” she whispered firmly: “I will not allow myself to think ill of Bert. Poor boy, I pity him, alone in this big city.”
She hailed a car and was soon riding down the Bowery just as the officer had told her, but she was so upset over her discovery that she hardly glanced out of the window.
Twice the conductor had to ask her for her fare, and when the stylish, handsome girl asked him how much the ride would cost he stared at her in earnest, and so did the passengers.
But Marion was learning very rapidly, now. Excitement was clearing her brain and sharpening her wits. It would not be very long before she would rid herself of her timidity at the great city’s bewilderments.
When she reached the lodging-house she found a pleasant faced man at the desk, who spoke to her kindly when she stated her errand.
“There’s been a boy here for two weeks by the name of Bert Jackson,” he said at once, “but he went away yesterday because he had no money. He’ll show up again, I presume, so you can leave a note for him if you wish.”
“Poor Bert!” cried Marion impulsively, “but what will he do without any money?”
“You can trust that kid for getting along,” said the gentleman laughing. “He’s the oldest sixteen year old I ever saw. Why he’s as bright as a New York boy already, yet he tells me he has always lived in the country.”
A half dozen ragged boys came in just then and stood eyeing Marion in great astonishment. The young girl soon caught some whispered remarks, which she knew were intended to express admiration.
“She’s de swellest t’ing wots come down de pike! Bert Jackson must belong ter de high-mucker-mucks ter have loidies in togs like dose a comin’ ter see him!”
“She’s er Jim Dandy fer fair! Oh, why ain’t I got one coming wid me? Dat’s my bloomin’ luck!” was the whispered answer.
The gentleman at the desk was just handing Marion a pencil when a commotion in the street made them both turn and look out of the window.
“It’s Bert Jackson! De cops got ’im!” yelled one of the boys, and in a second the whole group of them were out on the sidewalk.
“Oh, it is Bert,” cried Marion, as she caught sight of her friend, standing up very straight with a policeman’s hand on his shoulder.
“He’s got into some scrape. I’ll go and see what it’s about,” said the gentleman, and as he started for the door Marion followed him promptly.
The sidewalk was fairly blocked with boys when they finally got out, and there seemed to be scores of them coming from all directions.
“He knocked a gentleman down,” said the officer, as he recognized the superintendent of the lodging-house.
“He wasn’t a gentleman, he was an abductor!” cried Bert Jackson stoutly, and just at that moment he caught sight of Marion.
For a second the stylish garments puzzled him a little, then he threw up his hat and gave a whoop that made even the officer jump in astonishment.
“She’s here! Dollie is here! I just saw her!” he shouted. “She was with that fellow Lawson, and, I tell you, I hit him a good one!”
“Which way did they go?” cried Marion, trying to push her way to his side.
“I couldn’t see!” said Bert bitterly, “for the cops had collared me, but I hit him once, anyway! Some day he’ll get another!”
”What does he mean?” asked the superintendent, who hated to see Bert taken to the station-house. “Perhaps if you can explain it the officer will let him go.”
“Oh, do let him go, sir,” cried Marion instantly. “The poor boy is trying to help me find my sister Dollie, who was abducted three weeks ago from our home in the country!”
“Oh, come off!” said the officer, turning to scowl at the boy. “Dat’s all very foine, but it don’t go wid Moike O’Flarrity.”
“It’s truth just the same, and if it hadn’t been for you I’d have knocked him silly,” said Bert, scowling back at his captor. “I was trying to speak to Dollie and he stepped between us. I intended to knock him down and then run away with her.”
“Sure, dat’s just wot I t’ought,” said the officer promptly; “attempting to kidnap a gurrul in broad daylight and right in me beat, the impudent shpalpeen!”
“Well, I guess you can let him go, can’t you, officer?” asked the superintendent coaxingly.
“Not on yer loife!” was the reply. “Wot ’ud the capting say to me? Faith, an’ it’s to the station-house I’ll tak’ him, and let the s’argent dale wid him!”
“And you let that villain escape while you arrested a boy!” cried Marion, half crying. “Oh, my poor little sister! Will I ever find her?”
“Why don’t you ask them at headquarters to send out a general alarm, miss?” asked the superintendent as the officer strode on, half dragging Bert along with him.
Marion’s eyes flew open in unbounded surprise.
“Why, I never thought of that,” she said delightedly, “I came here all alone to look for my sister!”
“Well, you’ve got lots of courage,” remarked the superintendent, staring at her.
“Poor Bert! I am so sorry for him!” cried Marion in distress. “To think he should have been on the very verge of rescuing Dollie when he got arrested!”
“They’ll help you at headquarters,” said the superintendent kindly, as he wrote some directions on a piece of paper.
“Will you keep this address and give it to Bert when he comes back?” asked Marion, as she scribbled the name of the hotel where she had spent the night.
“Certainly, miss, and I’ll do more,” said the gentleman smiling; “I’ll go around to the station-house at once and try to get him out. I think I know a way to outwit that brutal officer.”
Marion thanked him warmly and then started uptown, but before she could make her visit to headquarters conscientiously she felt that she ought to do a little thinking.
“I beg your pardon, miss, but I think there is a pickpocket following you!”
A gentlemanly voice spoke almost in Marion’s ear as she walked along, with her eyes bent on the sidewalk.
The young girl looked up quickly and saw a gentleman at her side. He had spoken so quietly that his sudden news did not alarm her.
Marion turned and saw a slouching figure skulking swiftly around the corner, and then she also noticed that she had lost her way, she was no longer on the Bowery.
“I have nothing that he could steal, but I thank you just the same,” she said politely, as she glanced up at the aristocratic looking stranger who was gazing at her admiringly.
“It is a bad neighborhood for well-dressed people, particularly ladies,” said the young man, smiling. “These thugs would knock you down and steal your pocket-book in a jiffy.”
“How dreadful!” said Marion, clutching Miss Gray’s beautiful purse a bit tighter; “but I am afraid I have lost my way, I am going to Police Headquarters.”
The young man looked surprised, but he answered very pleasantly:
“You have, indeed, but I can soon set you right. I am bound for that neighborhood myself, and will be glad to escort you if you will allow me.”
Marion looked up at him shyly before she answered. As their eyes met she blushed deeply with a delicious sensation of pleasure. He was smiling down at her so sweetly and with such honest admiration that her heart went out to him instantly—she knew that she could trust him.
CHAPTER IX.
THE PICTURE ON THE POSTER.
“My dear Miss Marlowe, I would certainly tell the Chief of Police every word that you have just told me! Why the thing is infamous! I can hardly believe it!”
“Yet, it is true, every word, and I am glad I have told you, Mr. Ray! Some way you have given me courage by your unexpected sympathy. Yet it is strange that I should have made such a confidant of a stranger.”
“You can trust me absolutely, my dear young lady! I would scorn to deceive any man in the world, much less a young girl who needs my friendship and protection.”
Marion was walking side by side with the young man whom she had met and who had insisted upon escorting her all the way to Police Headquarters. She could not explain how she came to tell him her story. It must have been her unaccountable confidence in the handsome young stranger. When she glanced at him shyly she read only honor and chivalry in his face, and every word that he uttered served to convince her of his refinement. It was plainly to be seen that he was a thorough gentleman, and if fine clothing counted for anything he was certainly wealthy.
“And you think no harm would come to Miss Gray by my story?” she asked eagerly. “Poor girl, I am sure that she must have been deeply wronged, and not by one word would I ever injure her!”
“I am sorry for her, too,” said the young man, seriously. “Her case is a sad one, I am sure. There are many such cases, the more’s the pity. But you must sacrifice her in order to save your sister. You will have to tell the whole story; there is no way out of it.”
“I will if I must,” said the fair girl, sighing; “for first of all I must rescue my poor sister from the clutches of that scoundrel—but oh, Mr. Ray, do look at that picture!”
Marion had just caught sight of a flaming “poster” on the side of a building directly in front of them. She stopped as if spellbound and gazed at it intently. Her companion stared at it also, but could not quite understand her emotion.
“Carlos Dabroski, Professor of Hypnotism,” glared in large type from the poster directly over a full-sized lithograph of a man in evening dress, apparently addressing an audience.
“What is it, Miss Marlowe?” asked the young man quickly.
Marion gasped for breath as she tried to answer.
“Oh, Mr. Ray, that is the picture of Mr. Lawson!”
“What! the fellow that abducted your sister?” cried her companion in dismay.
The beautiful lips quivered pitifully over the awful revelation.
“I am almost sure it is the same,” she murmured as she stared hard at the picture. “He is changed in some way, I can’t tell exactly how. Oh, I see it all now! The black-hearted monster! He hypnotized her, my poor, innocent sister!”
“He is to give an exhibition of his power to-night,” said Mr. Ray, who was reading the big bill. “The rascal will hypnotize some ‘subjects’ at Poole’s Theatre this evening.”
Marion shut her white teeth with a defiant snap.
“Well, he shall have me for an audience, Mr. Ray,” she exclaimed, sharply. “Oh, to think of my sister being in the clutches of that monster!”
“Don’t cry, Miss Marlowe! You may be mistaken,” said Mr. Ray, quickly.
It hurt him as much to see her grief as though she had been his own loved sister.
“Oh, I’m not going to cry,” whispered Marion, with the tears almost on her lashes, “but I am going to do some plotting to trap that fiend; and, oh, Mr. Ray, I do hope that you will help me!”
She turned toward him appealingly and held out her hand. There was an expression on her face that made it radiantly beautiful. Archie Ray glanced around quickly. There was nobody looking.
He would have given the whole world to have clasped her in his arms, but he knew instinctively that such an action would never be forgiven him.
As he controlled himself and raised her hand to his lips, he murmured softly:
“Till death, Miss Marlowe, you can count upon my friendship, for although I have not known you an hour yet——”
He stopped abruptly. An eloquent glance from his dark eyes left no doubt of his sentiments.
Marion’s hand trembled in his grasp and her face was suffused with blushes. For a moment she was so confused that she did not know how to answer.
“You are very, very kind,” she stammered at last, “and I appreciate your—your friendship, I assure you, Mr. Ray. It comes like a burst of sunshine in this awful hour of misery. If you will only help me to save my sister! Every hour, every moment must be fraught with agony to poor Dollie.”
“Let us hurry to Police Headquarters,” said the young man, quickly, “and you must tell them all—every word of your story.”
There was no hesitation in Marion’s manner now, although she inwardly prayed that her words would not bring Miss Gray into any trouble.
“She was a true friend to me,” she said, very sadly. “Poor girl! I pity her with my whole heart and soul. If I could only find a way to punish that old monster.”
“I fancy he’s a bad egg,” said the young fellow, thoughtfully. “There are lots of his sort in the city, unfortunately, and no woman is wholly safe who falls into their clutches.”
“Poor Miss Gray was afraid of him,” said Marion, sadly, “but she has defied him now. Oh. I do hope it is well with her.”
“She stole your money,” was the man’s curt answer.
“She took it,” corrected the young girl, quickly, “but she left me all her expensive clothes. There is a mystery in her actions that I cannot fathom.”
“Well, one at a time,” said her escort, smiling; “but here we are at headquarters, Miss Marlowe. Shall I go in with you?”
He looked at her anxiously as he asked the question.
A soft, rosy flush stole over her face.
“I think not,” she said slowly, as she gave him an arch smile. “I’ll have quite enough to do without explaining our acquaintance.”
“I guess you are right,” said Mr. Ray, as he returned the smile. “I will be on that corner when you come out, Miss Marlowe, for I don’t intend to leave you until you are safe with your uncle.”
“Oh, thank you!” cried the girl, gratefully. “You are more than kind.”
Then a deep flush mantled her charming features as she remembered the words of almost love which he had spoken.
In another minute she was on the steps of the building. Her heart was beating so hard that she could almost hear it, but she was determined not to falter in her search for Dollie.
“I’ll tell all!” she whispered, “everything that has happened except”—here she paused and blushed a little deeper—“except that I have met a young man whom I think is just the most charming gentleman that I have ever met.”
CHAPTER X.
MARION FINDS HER UNCLE AT LAST.
A visit to the chief of police was naturally an embarrassment to a young and inexperienced girl like Marion, but his kindly manner put her at her ease.
He was unusually interested in the astonishing story which this beautiful country girl told him. If he doubted her words he did not betray it, so Marion talked on rapidly, feeling sure of his sympathy. The only item of information which Marion kept back was the fact that Bert Jackson had run away from the Poor Farm, and it did not occur to the great detective to question her on that point. Every word that she uttered was carefully taken down, and before she left the building an investigation was in progress.
She told him of Bert’s adventure with the hypnotist, and the chief sent an order for his immediate release.
“Now, what are you going to do next, miss?” the chief asked her kindly. “You seem to have a mind of your own, and I would like to hear what you will do personally toward finding your sister.”
Marion looked at him fearlessly, as she answered promptly:
“I shall go to that theatre to-night, sir, accompanied by Bert, and see this Professor Dabroski. If he is our former boarder, Mr. Lawson, I shall know him instantly. He may be disguised, but I am sure I shall know him!”
The chief looked at her keenly.
“I’m sure you will,” he said slowly. “I should hate to be the man to do you an injury, Miss Marlowe.”
This shrewd, worldly man had read the fair face at a glance. He saw in the flash of those gray eyes an indomitable spirit.
“I might forgive one to myself, but to my sister, never!” said Marion, sternly.
The chief was gazing at her in admiration. She looked like a queen with her head poised so defiantly.
“Here is Frederic Stanton’s address,” he said, after a minute, as he glanced over a directory. “Why, he is a prominent society man, Miss Marlowe. He is as proud as Lucifer. Are you sure he will help you?”
Poor Marion sighed.
“He must,” she said, slowly, “for I have not five dollars in the world, and there is no one else I can look to.”
The head of the great Detective Bureau did a few minutes’ thinking, then he gave Marion some instructions, all of which she promised to follow.
“These are very necessary,” he told her as he finished, “for if this villain has wronged your sister he must be punished without mercy. And now you had best go right up to ‘The Norwood’ and see your uncle. If he will help you, all right; if he won’t, why just let me know. You can stay at that hotel that you mentioned at present, and one of my men will be on hand at the theatre this evening.”
Marion thanked him for his advice and accompanied by Bert, joined Mr. Ray on the corner. Bert and Mr. Ray were introduced, and immediately seemed to take a mutual liking to each other. She had her uncle’s correct address now, and they were soon at “The Norwood.” Mr. Ray slipped his card into her hand as he and Bert left her at the door.
“We’ll call for you here later,” he said; with an admiring glance, “and if we don’t find you we’ll go over to the little hotel. Just as like as not your uncle will give you the cold shoulder.”
“He may,” said Marion, sadly, “for I’ve heard that he is very proud. And he doesn’t know the whole truth of my visit to the city.”
With a last glance of sympathy her friends turned away. Marion was alone again, but this time she was at the door of her own aunt’s dwelling.
She was ushered into a reception-room by a smartly-dressed maid, who glanced her over critically and evidently approved of her appearance.
“Wonder how she would have liked me in my own clothes?” thought Marion. “Ten to one I’d have received some cold glances from her if it wasn’t that I look so out and out stylish.”
After quite a long wait she was ushered into her Aunt Susan’s presence. It was the most unpleasant moment of the young girl’s whole adventure.
A fat, pudgy woman, very showily dressed, but who looked quite a little like her own mother, rose from a sofa as she entered.
There was a poodle in her arms that snapped and barked savagely.
“So this is my niece,” said the woman, languidly. She raised a lorgnette to her eyes and stared at Marion rudely.
“I am your Niece Marion, Aunt Susan,” said Marion as sweetly as possible. “I came yesterday, as I wrote you, but I must have missed uncle at the station.”
“Oh, he did not attempt to meet you,” said her aunt, said languidly. “He found he had a dinner engagement which prevented, but really, my dear, you are better than I expected.”
At this cool announcement, Marion’s color rose, but she bit her lips to control her feelings.
“Thank you, aunt,” she said, simply; “I am glad that you approve of me. Your sister’s children are not gawks, even if they do live in the country.”
“So I see,” said her aunt, “and it relieves my mind considerably. But tell me, Marion, how do you happen to be wearing such expensive clothes? Why, they are really quite fashionable! Can your father afford to dress you so stylishly?”
Marion burst out laughing before she answered.
“My father would not know me if he should see me,” she said honestly. “You see I have dressed myself according to my surroundings, aunt. I knew you would feel disgraced if I came to you in homespun.”
“Very thoughtful indeed!” said her aunt, thawing out a little. “Take off your hat, Marion, and I will order some luncheon. Really, you are extremely pretty. I am very glad to see you.”
Marion’s lip curled scornfully as she took off her hat. She would have been glad to have boxed the old lady’s ears, but as she couldn’t she watched her chance and teased the poodle for relief.
In a moment the door opened and her uncle came in. He was a pompous-looking man who tried to impress every one with his importance. He greeted her with a patronizing nod, looking her over critically, as his wife had before him.
“Glad to see you, of course,” he remarked, very frigidly, “but we are, er—very busy, don’t you know—so much doing in our set at present.”
Marion ate lunch with her relations before she told her story. She felt that she must fortify herself against what was probably coming.
When the servant had cleared away the things, she began talking quietly. She was determined to lose no time in enlisting her uncle’s sympathy.
“What! Dolly abducted, and here in New York?”
“You were sent to the apartments of a bachelor—alone!”
“Stayed all night at a cheap hotel with a—a man’s housekeeper, did you say?”
These exclamations of dismay interrupted Marion’s narrative.
“There—now I have told you all, uncle!” cried Marion, as she finished. “I have told you the whole truth, and I must rely upon your kindness! I should not have dreamed of coming to you had not Dollie’s own father disavowed her.”
“And quite right of him, I say!” almost screamed her Aunt Susan, who had supplied herself with smelling salts before Marion’s story was half over.
“And you expect me, a society leader, to mix myself up in this affair! Why, the thing is disgraceful! It will all be in the papers!”
Her uncle puffed himself up to an alarming degree as he spoke, but Marion controlled her feeling of disgust by a powerful effort.
“Is it anything against poor Dollie that she should have been hypnotized by that fiend?” she cried, earnestly. “Or is it anything to my discredit that I should have been tricked by scoundrels? We are only children, Aunt Susan! What do we know of the world? Why, we are both as innocent as the very field daisies at home, yet you scorn us for our misfortunes—you ridicule our sorrow!”
“We cannot afford to get entangled in this thing, Frederic,” said her aunt, without heeding her appeal.
“We certainly cannot,” said her husband, decidedly. “Once for all, Marion, you must excuse us from meddling in the matter.”
“So you refuse utterly to aid me in my search for Dollie?” asked Marion, breathlessly.
Frederic Stanton drew a bill from his pocket slowly and tossed it to her across the table.
“You can have that,” he said grandly, “but please don’t count upon me further. My position in society would be attacked at once were I to allow myself to be exploited in this manner.”
“Don’t mention our names, for heaven’s sake!” cried her aunt. “I would die of mortification if I should see this thing in the papers.”
Without noticing the bill, Marion rose to her feet. The scorn upon her face made her relations shrink a little.
“I’m only a country girl—a farmer’s daughter,” she said slowly, “but, oh, how I despise such natures as yours! You are a shame to your sex, Mrs. Susan Stanton, and as for you, sir, you are not worthy to be called a man.”
There was not a word spoken as Marion adjusted her hat.
As she left the apartment she did not even glance behind her.
CHAPTER XI.
THE RETURN OF MISS GRAY.
How Marion reached her hotel she could hardly say, but when she opened the door of her room she was astonished to find Miss Gray waiting for her.
“I’ve brought you back your clothing,” she said, with a soft laugh, at the same time pointing to a valise that was standing on the table.
Marion had only time to notice that Miss Gray was attired very simply in black, when her visitor rose and held out her hand to her.
“Oh, Miss Gray, I’m so glad!” cried the young girl. “I felt sure that you would come back, but your action was so strange that I could not help wondering why you did it.”
“And I knew you would not think ill of me,” said the woman, smiling, “and it is your faith in me, Miss Marlowe, that has made me a different woman. Listen,” she said calmly, as she drew Marion down beside her, “I will tell you my story now; but, first, here is your money.”
Marion took the money absently, and held it lightly in her hand.
“Do go on with the story, I am impatient,” she said eagerly.
Miss Gray’s face flushed a little as she started, but the flush soon died away and left her composed and natural.
“I am the daughter of a rich man in this city,” she began, “and I married a man quite out of my own circle of society. At least, I thought I was married to him, but the wretch had deceived me! I found it out when it was too late. I did not dare to admit it. Since then I have lived under an assumed name in this city, although we are supposed to be abroad. That wretch that you saw last night was my ‘make believe’ husband!”
“But your father?” asked Marion in breathless interest. “Would he not take you back and punish the villain?”
“He would, yes, for he is a noble man,” was the sad answer; “but my brother and sister are in society—my sister is engaged to be married I hear—it would injure them terribly should my story be known. For their sakes I have suffered and shall continue to suffer.”
“Oh, that is terrible! terrible!” cried her companion sorrowfully. “But, thank Heaven, you have been strong enough to leave him at last! Your life there must have been dreadful! Oh, how I pity you!”
“A drunken brute is not a very desirable companion,” said the woman scornfully, “and oh, the deeds of that infamous man! And to think that I had to witness them, yes, and even to protect him in them!”
“You were a martyr to your family. Miss Gray,” was the soft answer. “I cannot believe that you did right; still, I must not judge you.”
“Right! I should say not!” cried Miss Gray with a flush of shame. “I was his dupe, his tool! I did not dare to oppose him! Oh, to think that a woman could fall so low—why, Miss Marlowe, women came there and I had to meet them; but, thank God, I came to my senses in time to save the innocent!”
“I shall never forget it,” said Marion, softly. “And now, Miss Gray, I must tell you my day’s experience.”
Miss Gray listened intently as Marion told her what she had learned. When she finished she put her arms around her and held her closely.
“I must leave you now,” she said, after a little, “for I am planning to leave the country forever. But you are wondering why I took your clothes. It was because that I wanted to disguise myself to get back to my room unknown to Emile Vorse and get my few possessions and my money. In your dress I was able to do it, and I needed your money to bribe the servants. I expected to be back before you awoke, but Vorse was there, and I had to wait until he went out.”
“But will he not pursue you,” asked Marion.
“I am afraid so. I don’t know what to do!”
“Come with me,” said Marion. “Let us cast our lots together! Help me to find my sister, Miss Gray, and then, if it is necessary, I’ll change clothes with you forever!”
“You are a brave girl!” cried Miss Gray, laughing at this allusion to her deed. “My clothes certainly are becoming to you, dear, but give me a little time. I will think it over.”
“He does not know where you are?”
Miss Gray shook her head.
“Then you will not see him,” said Marion, decidedly. “You will stay with me, I am sure of it!”
There was a tap on the door, and a bellboy handed Marion a card.
“A young man whom I met this morning on the street,” she said, blushing. “I guess I forgot to tell you that part of my adventures.”
“Ah, a romance, I am sure,” cried the woman, smilingly. “You are blushing, dear, your face is scarlet.”
“Come and see him,” said Marion, taking her friend by the arm.
They walked down the stairs and entered the parlor. As Mr. Ray rose to meet them Miss Gray uttered a shriek of horror.
Instantly the young man sprang forward and caught her in his arms.
“Adele! Oh, Adele! My dear sister!” he cried. “Poor child, I am so glad to find you at last! We have all heard your story and have been nearly crazy about you!”
“You have heard my story?” whispered Adele Ray, faintly.
“Every word of it, dear,” said the young man smiling, “and father is only waiting to get his clutches on that infamous scoundrel, while—well, see here, sis, I’ve got a seven-shooter in my pocket!”
He drew an ugly-looking weapon out of his pocket as he spoke, but as his sister gave a scream he promptly returned it.
“And you all forgive me?” whispered Adele, still unable to believe him.
The young man took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly.
“You are as dear to me as ever, sis,” he said, assuringly, “and every member of the family is yearning to embrace you.”
“Then you can go home at once,” cried Marion, delightedly.
Archie Ray gave her a look that set her heart to beating wildly.
“Yes, she can go home at once,” he repeated, gladly, “while you and I, Miss Marlowe, go to rescue Dollie.”
Marion thanked him with a glance from her starry eyes. She appreciated his kindness keenly—he was a friend indeed in her hour of trouble.
“I must give you back your pretty clothes, Miss Gray,” she said, smiling and blushing, “but I confess I almost dread to get back into my poor little frock! I am afraid my brief glimpse of fashion has spoiled me.”
In a very few words Adele Ray explained about them to her brother.
“I shall never wear them again, pray keep them,” she urged, as Marion still hesitated. “They would only remind me of associations which I must try to forget. Do keep them, Miss Marlowe, you look so pretty in them.”
Marion blushed, but she shook her head decidedly.
“I cannot afford to wear them even though you give them to me, Miss Gray,” she said, slowly. “I must dress according to my station in life, and as yet I am only a poor farmer’s daughter.”
“But surely you are not obliged to wear homespun when you have something better! That is false pride, my dear,” said Miss Gray, stubbornly.
“I wish I could think so, but I can’t,” said Marion, sighing; “for I do love pretty clothes. I guess I wouldn’t be a woman if I didn’t.”
“Well, you must keep them, anyway,” said Miss Gray, decidedly. “You’ll get over those notions some day, and then they’ll come in handy.”
“She means that you will not be able to resist putting on the pretty duds,” said Mr. Ray, who was listening “and I hope you won’t try very hard to resist, for all women should dress prettily, it is a part of their duty.”
Marion smiled, but her eyes were growing sadder every minute. She was beginning to wonder if he would like her as well in homespun. Some way she hated the thought that he would ever be ashamed of her.
Then after a moment her good sense returned. “It will be a good test for his friendship,” she thought. “I’ll do it for that reason as well as the other.”
An hour later Mr. Ray had taken his sister home and Marion was alone in her room arrayed in her simple, country garments.
“I’m not so stylish, but I’m much more comfortable,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. “How I would look going after the cows in a long, train dress! Why I couldn’t jump a fence to save my life, and as for climbing trees, that would be out of the question.”
The people in the hotel stared at her a little the next time they saw her, but as they were not in the habit of inquiring into the private affairs of their patrons, she was not subjected to any special annoyance.
Even in her plain clothing she was strikingly pretty. There was a grace in her carriage and a flash in her eye that any queen on her throne might well have envied.