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Penny Dreadfuls, 1900 · page 19 of 37

Marion Marlowe in Society, or, A Race for a Title — page 19: what you’re looking at

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Marion Marlowe in Society, or, A Race for a Title — page 19: Penny Dreadfuls, 1900

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is that must be very gratifying. It’s no wonder he looked and acted a bit uneasy.” “I thought him remarkably cool until he caught sight of Marion,” said Mrs. Stetson, with a sly glance toward the young girl; “after that he had no eyes or ears for any one—even Miss Rushlyn was neglected, and I fancy she resented it.” “She did, indeed!” said Lord Curry, smil- ing; “I tried to console her, but she would hardly speak to me.” “Yes, and then it was Kitty Glenham’s turn to show resentment,” said Mrs. Stetson, laughing. “Oh, it is cruel, the way you are {?? treating poor Kitty! The young Englishman smiled again. He was used to Mrs. Stetson and, furthermore, it was no secret that Kitty Glenham liked him. Lord Curry had been over the season be- fore, and it was no fault of Miss Glenham’s that he did not marry her. But Lord Curry, in spite of his need of wealth, was not caught in the net that this young girl had spread for him. There were other girls whom he met who did not fling themselves so promptly at his head, and one of that number was the proud Maude Rushlyn. Now, even Maude Rushlyn was in danger of being forgotten. The eyes of the beauti- ful girl before him had stirred a new feeling in his soul, and Lord Curry was hesitating where he had never hesitated before—on the narrow line between love and ambition. No girl had thrilled him to the heart as Marion had. The touch of no other hand had ever awakened so many emotions or caused the blood in his veins to pulsate so furiously. But, of course, Lord Curry had seen the paragraph in the newspaper and, of course, he knew that it was intended for the ~Duke. There was no hope of his ever win- ning his hostess’ “approval. ‘By the way,” he asked, trying to get away from his thoughts; “who is that Mr. Jackson, Mrs. Stetson? I took a great fancy to him last night—he was so frank and manly,” “Me son of an old friend,” was Mrs. Stetson’s prompt answer; “‘a little young to he in society, but a®perfect gentleman, as you saw for yourself.” MY QUEEN. “T envy him.” Lord Curry spoke from the bottom of his heart. “Why so?” It was Marion who asked the question. ce . 8 , He is as free as the air,’ was the answer, with a harsh laugh. uphold, no fixed position to fill. Society has no claims upon him save what he sees fit to give it.” Marion Marlowe looked up with almost a sneer upon her lips. “He has the dignity of honor upon his shoulders,” she said, sternly; “moreover, he “He has no dignity to — has a man’s position in the world to fill, so — why should he be a slave to the caprices of society ?” ‘But no one expects him to accomplish cer- tain things,” said the Englishman, uneasily ; “he is not tormented by a vision of frown- ing ancestors.” Marion’s burst of laughter astonished him a little. Wes “No, his ancestors don’t worry him very 9? much, I fancy,” she said, gayly; “but why should a man sink his own individuality and fetter his freedom because of his ancestors?” “T don’t know why he should,” was the grave reply; “but I do know that if he mar- ries beneath him in the opinion of his family he loses the. prestige in society that is his by rank and, after that, there can be no happi- ness for him.” “T can understand that position, [ think, - began Mrs. Stetson, slowly, but Marion broke in in her impulsive manner. “Well, I can’t,” she said, in a ringing voice. ‘No man marries beneath him when he marries a lady! Why, what difference can there be in a mere accident of birth?” Mrs. Stetson laughed as she answered, quuic kly : ; “You must not expect Englishmen to share your sentiments, Marion,” she said, kindly. “Their love of the purple is bred in the bone, while we, thank God, are free-born repub- licans.”’ “T should not mind ‘wearing the purple’ mvself, but I should hate to feel it so heavy on my shoulders that it became a yoke to en- slave me,” said the young girl, hotly. Lord Curry flushed to.the roots of his hair. Gomicbooks.co - *