Marion Marlowe's Peril, or, A Mystery Unveiled — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

12 In an instant the tender-hearted girl had her hand upon his shoulder. “My poor boy, do tell me what is the matter,” she said, sweetly. trouble of any kind? can do for you?” “Are you in Is there anything I The boy looked up ite her- pitying face and burst out crying harder than ever. It was stich a paroxysm of grief that’ Marion almost wept in sympathy. “My mother is dying,” he blurted out be- tween, his sobs. “Oh, miss, if you would only come home with me perhaps you might save her!” “IT will go at once,”.said Marion, quickly. she was always ready and glad to do an er- rand of mercy. The boy brightened up wonderfully at her earnest words, then a shadow crossed his honest features. “Ma won't like She’s awful proud,” he said slowly, “but it because I told you. she’s dyin’, I know she is, so I ain’t to blame for tryin’ to save her.” “Indeed you are not, so hurry, my boy,” said Marion, decidedly. “If your mother is ill she must be taken care of—and I can see pan. ” by your face that you are not deceiving me. “Oh, no, miss, I wouldn’t do that!” said | the boy, beginning to sob again. “Ma is all I’ve got, and I’m all she’s got, and—come You don’t quick—it’s right down here. . ° y 99 mind the*walk, miss, do your “No, indeed,” said’ Marion, as they both hurried along. She had been walking to- ward Broadway; now she had turned in the opposite direction, and the boy was leading her toward the East River. About half way between Second and First avenues the boy darted into the hallway of a dingy apartment five house and Marion followed him = up fiehts of stairs with all the speed that she could muster. At the rear of the top floor the boy paused MY QUEEN. a moment. He was still a little worried about displeasing his mother. “Go right in—don’t delay,” said Marion kindly, and the next instant they had both entered the shabby apartment. Never would Marion forget the sight that met her eyes. She stood for a second almost casping at the misery of the scene, then darted forward to the ghastly, emaciated woman who was sit- ting bolstered up on a bed in the corner of the room. | In an instant she had seen that the boy was right. His mother was certainly dying, and from the effects of that dread disease consumption, “You must pardon my intrusion;’ said Marion, quickly, but gently. little boy crying on the street, and when I insisted upon knowing his grief he told me that you were ill. So please don’t blame me for coming, but just let me do something for you.” , As she spoke she took the poor, thin hands of the invalid in her tender grasp and gen- tly smoothed her disordered hair with a soothing motion. The great, startled eyes of the sick woman wandered to her face and sttidied it for a mo- ment with searching intentness. “Thank God!” whispered the white lips, finally. “At last I have found some one I can trust. I have no friends—no faith; but yes—yes—I can trust you.” “You can, indeed,’ said Marion, warmly ; “but, now first of all, | am going to send for a physician—a friend of mine—who will come to you at once, my dear madam; then I shall stay with you a while and make you comfortable. Oh, you need not say no,” she added, smilingly, as the, woman began shak- ing her head slowly. ‘You are ill, and | am a nurse. You see, | must stay and help you.” Marion drew paper and pencil from her pocket and hastily scribbled a note, which she addressed and gave to the boy to deliver. “IT saw your — EOmIicboo! <S; EO Al ‘