From Farm to Fortune, or, Only a Farmer's Daughter — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

MY QUEEN. | Z With a stifled scream Marion Marlowe flung his hand from her shoulder and sprang away from him. Her face paled in an in- stant at the insult he had offered her. “So that is the kind of a gentleman you are,’ she said, scornfully. “To try to take advantage of a girl in her misery!” The man took a step forward, but Marion stopped him with a gesture. _ “Don’t you dare to-come nearer!” she said » sternly. “I’m only a poor farmer’s daugh- ter, but I respect myself, sir! I regret that I spoke to you about Dollie at all! I might have known better. I have never trusted you!” She stood with her right arm upraised as she said these words, her fair face turned unflinchingly toward the handsome insulter. A careless sneer crossed the man’s dark face. “You have never trusted me, eh,” he said, half smilingly. “Well, that will not make much difference with me, I guess. You'll trust me more some day, my haughty Ma- rion !”’ _ “Never!” cried Marion,. with a hot flush of shame. “Not as long as J remember your insulting words. But enough, Mr. Lawson, I will not detain you longer.” _ She swept by him like a queen and went into the house. : Her mother was sitting in the kitchen pa- tiently darning stockings. ~Mother! mother!” cried Marion sharply, as she threw herself on her knees by her side. “Is it possible that you are willing for Dollie to be sacrificed? Are you going to sit calmly by and see her sold in bondage to Silas Johnson?” “What kin I dew?” asked her mother, ir- ritably; “ef your father sez so, what kin I dew? *Tain’t a wife’s place to meddle with her husband’s runnin’ of his fam’ly.”’ “But think of it, mother, what her life will be when she is tied to a man whom she does not love! Have-you no sympathy for your daughter? Think what you have suf- fered! And there is poor Sister Samantha! She is a perfect slave to her stupid husband, when with her looks and talents she might have done so much better!” “Your father is the head of his fam’ly,” said her mother again. “It ain’t my place to go ag’in him. He knows what’s best fer yéw an’ Dollie!” — Marion groaned aloud and rocked back and forth on the floor. Dollie opened the door of the little parlor where she had been busy dusting and stared at her sister. She had a big bandanna tied over her saucy curls, and with her dainty face flushed with exercise she looked like some quaint, old- fashioned picture. “Silas will make her a good husband, I’m sure,’ said Mrs. Marlowe, meekly. “©’ course he will, Marthy,” said the old farmer, who came in just as she spoke, “An’ what's more, I’m a-gittin’ mighty sick of this tarnal nonsense! Dollie hez got tew marry Sile, an’ thet’s all ther’ is abaout it! Why, there’s dozens of gals as would jump at ther’ chance! ’Pears tew me thet Dollie is de- termined ter fly in ther face o’ Providence in ther foolishest manner. She’d orter be a-thankin’ her stars fer gittin’ sech a hus- band!” Dollie stood, duster in hand, staring at — her father as he spoke. There was a dull look in her eye, as if she had not fully un- derstood him. “Dollie! Dollie! Why don’t you speak? Why don’t you tell father what you think! Oh, Dollie, what is the matter?” cried Marion Sarplys. | “I—I don’t want to marry Silas,” she finally whispered. “You tell him, Marion,” she turned to her sister appealingly, and ~ gazed from one to another of the little group with a frightened face. She seemed like one in a trance who was trying to grasp the situ- ations Marion sprang forward swiftly and threw her arms around her sister. There was something wrong with Dollie; but she had not time to puzzle out what it was—this ques- tion of her marrying Silas must be settled at once and forever. Turning so that she faced both her father and mother, Marion rested her right hand lightly *on her sister’s shoulder. “I will answer him, sister, and it shall be once. for all, for this anxiety is killing me. [ can brave it no longerCOTMNIG MO@QiKS faim