Marion Marlowe's True Heart, or, How a Daughter Forgave — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

MY youth of seventeen, frank-faced and healthy and brimming over with good nature. “Oh, Bert, is that you?” called Marion, quickly. “Come right in, so I can tell you all about my visit to the country.” “Have they erected a headstone to my memory in the Poor Farm graveyard yet?” asked the boy, “and is the village of Hickory- town draped in mourning for my decease ?”’ “No, neither,” said Marion, laughing, “but they all think you are dead, Bert. That letter of mine to Matt Jenkins, telling him of your death, was accepted by them all, in spite of the made-up signature.” “You did me a big favor when you wrote that letter, said Bert, quickly, “and I'll never forget it if I live to be a Marion,” hundred; but see here, I’ve got some news for you that will make your eyes stick out! There is a personal in the paper for Ila de Parloa, the singer.” | He held out a scrap of paper toward Mar- ion as he spoke, and the girl’s face flushed and paled alternately as she read it. “A manager of some theatrical troupe wants my address,” she said to Dollie. “He tried to get it from the manager of that con- cert hall where I sang, but old Vandergrift was so mad that he wouldn’t give it to him.” “I'll bet there’s lots of them that want you, and that will give you a good price, too, Marion,” said Bert Jackson, eagerly. “If you say-so, I’ll look this up and see what there is in it.” “Wait a minute—let me think,” said the fair girl, slowly; then she shook her head with a decided motion. “No, I will not.lis- ten to their offers at present,” she said, em- phatically. “I am to enter Charity Hospital as a nurse next Monday. It is a noble pro- fession, and I feel, some way, that I am called to it.” QUEEN. 11 CHAPTER VI. TESTING A LOVER. Marion had ample opportunity to observe George Colebrook in the next two days, ‘for Miss Allyn was furnishing her little flat, and her fiancé was assiduous in his atten- tions to her. “T’m a little puzzled about George,” Miss Allyn confided to Marion as they were busily arranging and rearranging the new furni- ture. Dollie was out in the little kitchen mak- ing some tea, so Marion knew instinctively that Miss Allyn had something on her mind that she did not wish any one else to know about. She looked at her inquiringly, and with so much sympathy in her face that Alma Allyn stopped in her work and came over and stood by her. “You think I’m a fool for being so much in love, don’t you, Marion?” she asked, smilingly. “Well, let me tell you how it was; George and I were children together. He wasn’t a very good boy, and I suppose I sympathized with him. He was always in some scrape or other, and everybody was down'on him: :Well, when we grew up there was no one else. George made love to me, and I let him, but then we were too poor to think of marrying. When mother died and I went home to her funeral, I found him there. We had then ‘been separated two years, but had corresponded regularly. AlI- most immediately after the funeral he asked me to marry him, and I was so utterly lonely that I accepted him thoughtlessly. Not that I didn’t love him, Marion, for I did love him dearly. Someway he grew into my life and seems almost a part of it.” “And do you trust him, Alma?” asked Marion, as she paused. “Are you sure that he will treat you, right and be a good hus- band to you?” Alma Allyn’s face clouded a little as she ECOMmicoooksS.€©