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 attentions to her.

“I’m a little puzzled about George,” Miss Allyn confided to Marion as they were busily arranging and rearranging the new furniture.

Dollie was out in the little kitchen making 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. Almost 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 husband to you?”

Alma Allyn’s face clouded a little as she made her reply. In spite of her great love, she was still able to reason.

“I did trust him when I promised to marry him,” she said, slowly, “but something has happened since that is puzzling me, Marion. George is not the same man that he was at mother’s funeral.”

Marion’s lips framed a question that she did not ask. There was no need to ask it, for Miss Allyn was already answering it instinctively.

“He wanted me to marry him as soon as he got back from England, where he had to go on business, he said, and that is why I decided to take this flat with Dollie, but in the last two days he has changed his mind. He is not going to England, yet he says nothing about our marriage.”

Marion bit her lips and thought quietly for a moment. She could see that her friend was suffering, and she dreaded to say anything that would add to her sorrow.

“He may be undecided,” she said at last, “or perhaps he is planning something different, Alma, but if I were in your place, I would come right out and ask him.”

Miss Allyn was a trifle pale when she spoke again, and it was plain to Marion that she had doubts of her lover.

“If I thought he did not love me, I would release him at once,” she said, quietly, “but he has professed to love me for years, so why should I doubt him?”

“There is no reason why you should,” said Marion, firmly. “It is very probable that he is just waiting for something, some business matter or affair of some kind before he says anything.”

“Well, I hope it will soon be settled, for this suspense is mighty unpleasant, I can tell you,” said Miss Allyn, smiling a little. “Why, for the first time in my life, Marion, I’m not fit to attend to business.”

“Love affairs are dreadful things,” said Marion, trying to laugh it over. “I’m so glad that up to date I have never been affected.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” said Miss Allyn, more gayly. “You were pretty sweet on Mr. Ray, and you may as well own it, and, by the way, is he coming back to this country ever?” she asked.

“They are to sail next week, he and Adele,” was the answer, “but I shall be in the hospital then, so I suppose I can’t see them.”

“Love will find the way,” quoted Miss Allyn, slyly. “You can trust that Mr. Ray to find you, Marion.”

Dollie entered just then, evidently in a state of great excitement.

“Oh, girls!” she screamed, half crying, “I’m just frightened to death. I’ve broken my hand glass into a thousand pieces.”

“That means seven years of bad luck,” said Miss Allyn, laughing; “and a half a dollar to buy a new hand glass.”

“Never mind, Dollie,” said Marion, who was not at all superstitious. “You’ll be earning six dollars a week after this, so it won’t take long to buy the new glass.”

“Oh, but I’m to save every penny to buy my trousseau,” said Dollie, brightening. “You keep forgetting, Marion, that I’m going to be married.”

“There is little danger of her forgetting it while you are around, Dimples,” said Miss Allyn, laughing. “You take pains to remind her of it every fifteen minutes.”

“Here comes Mr. Colebrook,” was Dollie’s whispered reply. “Quick, come out in the kitchen with me, Marion, so we won’t interrupt the lovers.”

“Nonsense!” cried Miss Allyn, as she darted toward the kitchen. “I’ll go out there myself and see if he misses me.”

Dollie followed her into the kitchen of the little flat and closed the door softly, leaving Marion alone in their pretty parlor.

“Oh, all alone, Miss Marlowe,” was Mr. Colebrook’s greeting. “Well, for once in my life I am deucedly lucky.”

Marion looked up in surprise, but controlled her feelings wonderfully. It had popped into her head to test her friend’s lover a little.

“Why do you think yourself lucky in finding me alone,” she asked, archly, as she went on arranging the furniture.

“Because you are the sweetest girl that I ever met,” was the astonishing reply, “and I am lucky in having a chance to say so.”

For a moment Marion could hardly believe her ears; then a great feeling of pity for Miss Allyn swept through her every fibre.

Almost involuntarily she glanced toward the kitchen door, but it was tightly closed, so she breathed a little more freely.

“Miss Marlowe—Marion,” cried Mr. Colebrook, suddenly, “have you no eyes to see how much I admire you? Why, I’ve been crazy with admiration ever since I met you. You are as beautiful as a saint, and I am desperately in love with you.”

Poor Marion’s breath came with a little gasp now. It was almost impossible for a girl with her honest nature to grasp such a situation. Here was her best friend’s betrothed husband actually making love to her. He had the open assurance to tell her that he loved her.

As she stood almost paralyzed by her emotions, he seized her hand in both his own, and before she could stop him he had kissed it fervently.

Suddenly one word issued from the pale girl’s lips.

“Traitor!”

She hissed it out slowly, her tone tense and vibrating.

The fellow drew back as if he had been stung.

The next instant Alma Allyn opened the kitchen door and stepped calmly between them.