CHAPTER II.

THE CITY BOARDER.

When they were gone from her sight Marion turned homeward.

The patient cows were well on their way, so the young girl had nothing to do but follow them.

As she came in sight of the low farm-house where she was born she saw a girlish figure coming swiftly toward her.

It was her twin sister, Dolores, or Dollie as she was called, and at the very first glance Marion could see that she was weeping.

In an instant she was running rapidly toward her, and as they met she threw her arms tenderly about her sister’s shoulders.

“What is it, Dollie? Has father been tormenting you about Silas again?” she asked breathlessly, at the same time brushing her sister’s golden hair back from her brow with a caressing motion.

Dollie wiped her eyes and nodded her head affirmatively.

“Yes, Marion, he has, and I can’t stand it much longer!” she cried, sobbingly. “He is just nagging at me all the time, and, oh, he is cruel, sister. Why, when I told him I did not love Silas he just sneered at me as though love was something that was not to be considered!”

“Poor father! It is little he knows of that holy sentiment,” said Marion, sadly, “but go on Dollie, what else did he say to you?”

A gleam of resentment shone in Dollie’s blue eyes, for she was always more brave when her sister’s arms were about her.

“Oh, he said I had defied him and that he would punish me for it! That a man had a right to do as he pleased with his own family, and that girls like you and me did not have a grain of sense about what was best for them!”

Marion’s gray eyes flashed as her sister talked, but she walked slowly on and did not interrupt her.

“Then he said that I would have a comfortable home if I married Silas, and that I’d go straight to destruction if he did not look out for me!”

“How horrible!” burst out Marion. “And to think he is our own father! Why isn’t he content with one such experiment? Poor sister Samantha, whom he forced to marry Tom Wilders! I should think her miserable life would be a warning to him! Oh, Dollie, if we could only go away and earn our own living. You can play the piano beautifully and I can sing. If we could only go somewhere and make our own way where we should never bother father, I should be perfectly happy!”

The beautiful face was radiant with eagerness now, and some of her wonderful courage seemed reflected upon Dollie’s more babyish features.

“It would kill me to marry Silas!” she cried with a shudder. “Father shall not force me to do it, Marion, never!”

There was a close clasp of the arms about each other’s waists as the two girls walked on and Dollie’s golden head almost rested upon her sister’s shoulder.

“Why, Marion, what do you think! He tried to bribe me,” she added, suddenly. “He said I could have grandma’s topazes the day I was married to Silas.”

A look of disgust swept over Marion’s face.

“As if those old earrings of grandma’s could make up for such a crime! And it is a crime to marry without love, my sister.”

A piteous sob broke from Dollie’s lips and she moved a step away.

“There’s no help for it, Marion. He’ll make me do it,” she cried. “He’ll ruin my life just as he ruined Samantha’s, for, oh, it will kill me to be tied down to the drudgery of farm life forever, and especially with such a man as Silas.”

“We must find some way to thwart him,” said Marion, as she opened the gate that led to the farm-house. “It is horrible to think of such a thing. The idea of a man trying to get rid of his own daughter, even selling her body and soul, for that is exactly what it amounts to. Silas Johnson isn’t a bad fellow, but he is an awful bore. He isn’t much like what we have dreamed of in the way of lovers.”

They had entered the dingy kitchen now and closed the door behind them. There was no one there, so they went on softly with their confidences.

“I should say not,” said Dollie, smiling brightly through her tears, as she recalled the mental pictures of the gallant youths which they had so often woven into the links of their daisy chains, hoping that some day they would come, like Cinderella’s Prince, and rescue them from the drudgery of farm life, which they hated.

“Our lovers must be all that is grand and brave and true,” she cried excitedly. “They must be of noble blood, like the knights in the story books, who would risk their lives for a maiden’s love and think no peril too great to keep them from their trysts. Oh. I have often dreamed of them, Marion, and such beautiful dreams. It was like a glimpse of bliss to be loved by such a lover.”

“And just think, Dollie, the world is full of them,” cried Marion. “There really are just such knights and they do kneel at the feet of blushing maidens.”

“It makes me tremble with delight just to think of it,” murmured Dollie. “Oh, Marion, will I ever have a lover like that? One whose slightest word will make me thrill with pleasure. If we only lived in the city, darling. But no one will ever come here. We will just die longing for love and never, never get it.”

“Mine was to have black eyes and brown hair, and be very tall,” began Marion, wiping her eyes, “and he was to be, oh, so gentle and tender in his wooing, yet all the time as brave and strong as a lion! Oh, my lover was to be a perfect prince among men, and we were to marry and live in a little paradise of pleasure!”

Her cheeks were glowing as she finished her impulsive speech, and radiant smiles were dimpling her fair features.

“And mine was to have gray eyes; like yours, Marion; and a big mustache, and—but, oh, my goodness! Just look at who is coming!”

Dollie finished abruptly, pointing out of the window.

“It’s the man that mother said was looking for board, I suppose,” said Marion thoughtfully. “Father must have taken him and he’s bringing him straight into the kitchen.”

“He’s the handsomest man I ever saw!” cried Dollie, springing up. “Quick! Marion, we must tidy ourselves up a bit, dear! He mustn’t think we are frights, even if we are a farmer’s daughters!”

Farmer Marlowe introduced the girls with an awkward wave of his hand.

“My darters, Mr. Lawson,” he said, with an effort at politeness. Then leaving the girls to entertain the new boarder, he strode out of the room again to do the evening milking.

The stranger, a man of thirty, of most striking appearance, stood as if rooted to the spot for at least a full moment after his first sight of the girls.

Such beauty as this was rare in any place, but finding it buried here in the wilderness of rocks and sand, he could hardly believe his senses for a minute.

Marion Marlowe rose politely, and offered him a chair, which he accepted with such a glance of admiration that she could not help blushing.

“I am most fortunate in finding such desirable quarters,” he said gallantly, “for I had not dreamed of anything in the way of society in this forlorn little village. You see, I am a bit of an invalid, and the doctor has sent me into the country to rest. Little did I imagine that I should find angels to minister to me! Which will explain, I trust, any seeming rudeness in my manner.”

“We stared at you also,” said Marion, still blushing, “but my sister and I have seen so few gentlemen, Mr. Lawson, that we were just as much surprised as you were.”

She tried to speak naturally, but her voice trembled a little. There was a curious sensation of anger thrilling every fibre of her body.

The man’s dark eyes seemed reading her soul. His penetrating glance annoyed and irritated her.

What could it mean? She tried to think calmly. No man whom she had met had ever affected her so strangely.

“I hope I am somewhat different from these townsmen of yours,” went on the man smilingly, “no better perhaps, but a little less boorish. It is a shame that such beauty as this should be wasted upon them! Forgive me for what seems to be flattery, but I must speak honestly. You are both too beautiful to be buried here! You should live in the city, my dear young ladies!”

Marion bit her lips to control her resentment, but before she could reply her mother entered the kitchen and began preparations for their homely supper.