CHAPTER XIII.

THE END OF THE TRAGEDY.

Marion had kept her promise to watch for Mr. Ray’s wretched young wife, and it was her grim determination alone that secured for the poor creature a Christian burial.

Never to her dying day would the brave girl forget the scene on that little dock when the “dead boat” drew alongside with her dreadful cargo.

“Gently, men!” she cried as a couple of convicts lifted the pine coffin. “Remember that all are not so accustomed to these sights as we are, and this poor creature was once a beautiful woman!”

The men heard her silently, but they obeyed her commands. The box was deposited gently, and then the _Fidelity_ steamed away again at an order from the official.

Marion’s glance swept hastily over the group on the dock. They were mostly attaches of the monstrous prison, but the next instant her gaze rested upon two manly forms, and the pathos of the scene brought tears that blinded her vision. Mr. Ray was standing like one stricken by some fearful blow, his arm resting heavily on Dr. Brooke’s broad shoulder.

“Bear up!” whispered the doctor. “You have saved her, Ray! She has come back to you at last, and you must forgive her—in her coffin.”

“Poor girl! Poor Mary!”

Mr. Ray’s words came brokenly. He had forgotten the great wrong that this woman had done him.

Dr. Brookes had to leave him to give an order about the coffin, and at that instant a young man wearing a press badge came running down from the prison.

One of the guards whom he met turned and pointed toward Mr. Ray, and the next moment the reporter was close beside him.

“Do you mind giving the details of this frightful mistake to the New York _Daily_?” he asked blandly. “Awfully sorry to distress you, sir, but, of course, we would like to have the story.”

“I will give them to you,” said Marion, stepping up at once. It seemed wicked that this man should intrude upon Mr. Ray at this moment.

The reporter turned to her respectfully, and Mr. Ray thanked her with a look. A moment later he was again leaning on the arm of Dr. Brookes, on his way to the Morgue to identify the body.

Marion told the story as briefly as she could, but as she mentioned the name of Augustus Atherton the stolid reporter gave a long, low whistle.

“He is here, Lawyer Atherton,” he said, quickly. “He came up in the boat with me, and he acted like a madman. Every one of us kept our eyes on him—we thought he was going to jump overboard.”

“Well, he is a very wicked man!” said Marion, impulsively, “so I don’t pity him as much as I do her poor husband!”

“Ray treated her all right for all I can learn,” said the reporter. “She was a ‘tough proposition,’ if you know what that means, but if the father is bad what can you expect from the children?”

As they were walking back to the Penitentiary, Marion remembered the errand that she had been sent on, but she felt sure that the superintendent would excuse her when she heard her story.

At the door of the warden’s office even the reporter halted. The scene in the office was almost appalling.

Archie Ray and his father-in-law stood face to face, both pale as death and both glaring at each other.

In an instant Marion knew that there had been hot words between them, and that they were each blaming the other for the day’s experience.

“Come, Mr. Ray,” she said quickly, darting into the room. “Come away before you break down altogether! That man’s words should not annoy you—he is beneath your notice!”

The lawyer glared at her, but did not recognize her for a moment, while Dr. Brookes and the warden looked on in intense amazement.

“How dare you speak like that, miss?” said Augustus Atherton, hotly.

Marion turned and faced him with a look of indignation.

“I dare, because I know I am right,” she said, distinctly. “With your own daughter an outcast, a disgrace to her mother and to her husband, you do not hesitate to flatter and mislead young girls, or to compromise and wrong them if occasion offers!”

The lawyer’s pale face flushed with shame at her words, and just then Dr. Brookes stepped forward and led her from the office.

“Well said, beautiful Marion!” he whispered, softly. “And said at a time that he will not forget in a hurry! I fancy he will hesitate before he smiles at another young innocent!”

“You must cheer poor Mr. Ray,” was the fair girl’s only answer, “for while, of course, if is impossible that he should still love his wife, yet there must be memories that make this scene most bitter!”

“I will do my best,” said Reginald Brookes, nobly. He had forgotten for the time that this man was his rival.

Marion hurried back to the hospital. She had done her duty. She went at once to the Superintendent of Nurses and told her the whole story.

“What a horrible thing!” was that lady’s answer. “Well, my errand will keep, and I can go myself to-morrow.”

The next day both Marion and Dr. Brookes got a twenty-four hours’ leave of absence. They took the “doctor’s boat” together and went over to the city.

“There has been one more tragedy in connection with that poor woman’s death,” he said, sadly, as he handed Marion an open letter.

“My friend, Dr. Greenaway, has killed himself. It seems he knew Mrs. Ray as ‘May Osgood,’ and was desperately in love with her.”

Marion sighed as she handed him back the letter, which was only a brief account of Greenaway’s death, written by his friend, Dr. Fielding.

“How did he hear of it?” she asked, with a little shudder.

Dr. Brookes looked more sorrowful and his face trembled as he answered:

“Why, I learned that she was ‘May Osgood’ before I knew she was Mrs. Ray, and, of course, I wired to Greenaway to come up and identify her. The fellow was already in a frightful state! I don’t blame him—it must be awful to love a wicked woman!”

He was looking at Marion so meaningly that her eyes fell before his glance.

“Or a wicked man,” she said, softly. “Oh, how I pity my dear friend, Miss Allyn!”

“It has been a strange ‘mix up,’” said Dr. Brookes, thoughtfully, “a tragedy, you might say, of New York and Blackwell’s Island.”

“There are many such, I fancy,” was the fair girl’s reply.

“More than any one dreams of,” answered the doctor, sadly.

When they reached the city they went directly to the flat, and as Dollie met them at the door Marion uttered an exclamation.

Her golden haired sister was looking radiantly happy, and even young Brookes could almost guess the secret.

“Oh, Dollie, is it settled at last?” asked Marion, as she kissed her.

“I’ll answer that question,” said Ralph Moore, coming forward.

“Mr. Saunders, my employer, has taken pity on me at last. He has raised my salary to twenty dollars a week, and now there is no reason why we shouldn’t be married.”

“And I want them to hurry up about it!” cried Bert Jackson’s voice, as he and Miss Allyn emerged suddenly from the kitchen.

“Hello! This looks suspicious!” cried Dr. Brookes, laughing. “Dollie and Ralph in the parlor and Miss Allyn and Bert Jackson in the kitchen!”

“Oh, it don’t mean anything serious,” said Bert, very coolly. “I’m not proposing to Miss Allyn, I’m waiting for Marion.”