CHAPTER XIV.

A WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT.

“Well, of all the cool things that I ever heard!” cried Marion as soon as she could stop laughing.

“Oh, the doctor isn’t the only pebble on the beach,” went on Bert, gayly. “There are others—Mr. Ray and myself, for instance! Of course, I don’t claim to be ‘in it’ just now exactly, but wait till I get home from college and then, gee whiz! won’t I give you fellows a hustle!”

“But perhaps I won’t wait,” said Marion, mischievously.

Bert shrugged his shoulders with a comical grimace.

“You wouldn’t be so mean. I know you, Marion! You’d die an old maid before you’d bring such sorrow to this bosom!”

He clasped one hand over his heart and assumed a tragic attitude. It was plain to be seen that Bert was developing wonderfully.

“You ought to go on the stage, Bert!” cried Dollie, as she shook with laughter. “You’d make a splendid comedian. Oh, you are just too funny!”

“That’s what I call ‘up-to-date’ criticism,” said Bert, a little disdainfully. “Right in the middle of my best tragedy she calls me ‘funny!’”

“But you certainly would make a splendid actor, Bert,” repeated Miss Allyn. “Do let me help you to get an engagement.”

“The governor—I mean my newly acquired pop—wouldn’t hear of it,” said Bert. “He is going to take me on a trip through Canada in a day or two, then abroad for the summer, and goodness knows where else, and then in the fall I go to college to be fitted for the ministry, or something.”

There was another shout over Bert’s remarks. The idea of his even being a minister was the most amusing thing yet.

“Well, if you were only ordained I would give you a job at once,” said Ralph Moore, quickly, “for I am trying to get Dollie to marry me to-morrow.”

“Why not to-morrow?” asked Dr. Brookes, gayly. “Both Miss Marlowe and I are on leave of absence! Oh, Dollie, you must be married to-morrow!”

“Of course you can, sister, dear,” said Marion, going over to her. “There’s no reason in the world why you should wait any longer.”

“I’ll go straight out and find you a flat,” chimed in Miss Allyn, “and you can both stay right here until we get it furnished.”

“Then that is settled,” said Bert, who seemed to be especially anxious, “and there’ll be one big weight off my mind, I can tell you!”

He gave Dollie a glance that no one understood but herself, but the girl’s face flushed as she remembered that scene in the carriage.

Almost as if she had read her sister’s thoughts Marion Marlowe spoke after the laugh had subsided:

“I shall be glad to feel that you are safe, dearie; that you have a good husband like Ralph to protect you.”

“And you, Marion, I wish you did not have to work in hospital!” cried Dollie, impulsively. “I am sure I don’t see how you can endure it!”

Dr. Brookes gazed steadily at the fair girl whom he loved, but the look in her sweet face did not give him encouragement.

“If you knew how much I was needed in a hospital,” she said, softly; “how much everybody is needed who is willing to go and work for the unfortunates! Dr. Brookes can tell you what there is to do—what anguish there is to soothe, and what wrongs are to be righted! Suppose I had not been there yesterday,” she said with a shudder, “just think what a hideous thing would have happened!”

It was her first allusion to the awful tragedy, but Marion knew it must come, and she wished to have it over.

“Oh, sister, what happened?” asked Dollie, instantly.

Even Bert Jackson paled a little as he heard the answer.

“I saved Archie Ray’s wife from being buried in Potter’s Field! She was on the way there when I found it out; the result is, the poor creature will now have a Christian burial!”

“Great Heaven! How horrible!” cried Ralph Moore, excitedly.

“Oh, Marion, how dreadful!” gasped Dollie, almost crying.

“Thank God she is dead!” was Miss Allyn’s low murmur.

“I will tell you about it,” said Reginald Brookes, bravely. “Poor Miss Marlowe has borne enough without the pain of this recital.”

There was not a sound in the room as he described the fearful scenes, but when Lawyer Atherton’s name was mentioned Dollie shuddered visibly.

Ralph put his arm around her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Bert looked surprised and then glad, for he felt sure that Dollie had told him everything.

And so she had, for Dollie was truthful at heart. Now that she had found shelter for her weakness she was almost blissfully happy.

It was Bert who spoke first when the story was ended, for the fine, manly youth was too strong willed to be entirely overcome by a tale of sorrow.

“Well, I am mighty glad that tragedy is ended,” he said, very soberly. “I’m glad for the poor woman that she is at rest at last, and I’m glad that Mr. Ray is free from such a creature; but, best of all, I am glad you roasted the old lawyer, Marion, for somehow, ever since I first saw him I’ve hated the old duffer!”

“Well, I pity him now,” said Marion, softly, “for his sin has come home to him at last. There will be nothing but remorse for him in the future.”

“I heard some news of him this morning that I forgot to tell you,” said the doctor, soberly. “A newspaper reporter who knows him told me that he has left the country. Took a late train last night without even notifying his office, he’ll probably remain away until the thing has blown over, for I see they have got it pretty straight in all the papers, especially where they say that he is largely responsible for his daughter’s doings.”

“Let us try and put all this out of our minds,” said Miss Allyn, suddenly. “To-morrow is Dollie’s wedding-day, and we must all be happy! I move that we have a song—something rousing and jolly!”

“I second the motion!” cried Bert Jackson, gayly, as with a great show of triumph he offered his arm to Marion.

“I score one,” he said joyfully, as he saw the doctor’s frown of disappointment. “Got ahead of you that time ‘Sawbones,’ but you can square it while I’m in Canada!”

“Oh, I never take advantage of an absent foe,” said the doctor, laughing, and just then, with a great flourish, Bert opened the piano.

Dr. Brookes had never heard Marion sing, so when the first tones of her magnificent voice fell upon his ear he almost held his breath in surprise and admiration.

Bert Jackson winked at him behind her back, but there was a look on his face that the doctor had never before seen there.

“By Jove!” he thought suddenly, “I believe the boy does love her! Well, why shouldn’t he? Who could help it? She is the sweetest, the noblest, the bravest girl in creation!”

Thus ended another tragedy in Marion Marlowe’s life—it was a happy termination in spite of some sadness.

Dollie, her darling sister, was married to Ralph the next day, and even Archie Ray and his sister were present at the wedding.

They left the next day for a trip through the South, but not until after they had followed Mary Ray’s remains to Greenwood.

There was just one bit of news that distressed them all, and that was that George Colebrook was free again and at liberty to commit such villainies as pleased his base nature.

Lawyer Atherton was never seen nor heard from again, and of course his offices were closed and his employees scattered.

Miss Allyn went on with her newspaper work, and was as loyal as ever to her friends, and with a grateful heart Marion went back to the Island, determined to face bravely any trials that might come to her. As for Dr. Reginald Brookes, he was patient and hopeful. Even the prison seemed a palace whenever Marion, the peerless, entered its portals.

THE END.

In No. 5 of My Queen, issued next week, Marion Marlowe appears as the central character in a new field of action. The story is entitled “Marion Marlowe Entrapped; or, The Victim of Professional Jealousy,” and is a story of the most thrilling interest.

Questions and Answers

BY

GRACE SHIRLEY

Note.—This department will be made a special feature of this publication. It will be conducted by Miss Shirley, whose remarkable ability to answer all questions, no matter how delicate the import, will be much appreciated, we feel sure, by all our readers, who need not hesitate to write her on any subject. Miss Shirley will have their interests at heart and never refuse her assistance or sympathy.

Street & Smith.

“I am in such terrible trouble that I fly to you for advice, and I do hope you will have the kindness to answer my questions. I was at the shore all summer, and I promised three young men that I would marry them. Of course, I only did it in fun, but it seems that they have all taken it seriously. How will I ever get out of such a trying predicament? I do hate to have them know that I was only flirting.

“Eva L.”

The girl who stoops to such unwomanly tricks as the one you mention deserves to be a little annoyed and worried. It seems incredible to us that any girl should make a solemn promise lightly. To be honest, you will be obliged to confess your folly.

“How much can a girl believe of what a man says to her? Please answer this question if you can, Miss Shirley. My gentleman friends are always praising both my beauty and my grace, and, oh, the promises that they make, Miss Shirley! I am constantly being disappointed at their failures to fulfill them.

“Lottie G.”

My answer to your first question is this: It depends upon the man. You can believe everything that a gentleman says to you, and but very little of what a knave, a rascal or a _roue_ whispers in your ear. Men who praise you to your face are nearly always insincere. Men who make promises easily are apt to forget them easily. We would advise you to discourage these promises at the moment they are made. Do not expect anything from men and then you will not be disappointed. We suppose, of course, that these promises refer to engagements like suppers and the theatre, etc. We cannot imagine what other promises men in general can be making to a respectable young girl. We are almost afraid to read between the lines of your extraordinary letter. We would like very much to see you so that we could understand you better.

“I have taken great interest in reading the correspondence department of ‘My Queen,’ and I wish to say right here that I know of no one to whom I would rather tell my troubles than the author of ‘Marion Marlowe.’ If there is such a girl as ‘Marion’ in the world, I would like to meet her. She is a perfect lady without being prudish or silly. It may sound egotistical, but I think I am a little like Marion. I am not afraid to speak out if I think I am right, and I do not blush or simper over foolish matters. Do you not think that men admire a sensible woman. One who can talk reasonably about love and marriage without squirming, wriggling, blushing and giggling? Most of the girls I know think it proper to appear embarrassed and shy the minute a man makes love to them. I would like very much to hear your opinion on this subject.

“Alma I. C.”

You certainly are very much like “Marion Marlowe,” and that is as great a compliment as any girl can have paid to her. Any girl who respects herself can and should talk sensibly about love and marriage, although it is only fair to allow her a few blushes. The natural modesty of a young girl will always make her feel a little shy in the presence of her lover, but she should never allow this feeling to prevent her from discussing the subject of marriage in all its phases with him after they are sufficiently well acquainted. No girl should engage herself to a man until both understand each other thoroughly on these subjects. I am glad you take an interest in “My Queen,” as you apparently do, from cover to cover. We can promise you each week a thrilling and instructive story.

“I have read one copy of ‘My Queen,’ and have sent for the others. I am sure Miss Shirley must be a lovely woman herself to be able to construct the character of ‘Marion Marlowe.’ I am very much in love with a young man, and for that reason I wish to read all about Marion Marlowe, for I want to see how she talks to her lovers. I am afraid I am a little inclined to be silly, but when one loves very deeply is not this excusable?

“Ida C.”

I am afraid all lovers appear just a little silly to those who have never experienced the “grand passion,” Ida, but there is a time and place for everything, even silliness, so if you do whisper baby talk in your beloved’s ear you can rest assured that we shall not blame you. I am glad you like “Marion” and that you are studying her character. We intend that she shall be the purest type of American girl. She will be a good model for all young girls to follow, but we trust that her imitators will have far less trouble in their lives than our unfortunate heroine.

“Ever since I met a certain young man a month ago I have been almost unable to sleep and have lost my appetite completely. Do you think I am in love? He is very handsome.

“Agnes D.”

Loss of sleep and appetite do not invariably occur from an attack of the “grand passion,” but they have been known to follow in its wake. Perhaps your food is not well chosen, and that you need fresh air and exercise, or perhaps a tonic. People are frequently deceived in matters like the one you mention. I would advise you to study the state of your liver and not lay the blame on your heart until all the other organs have demonstrated that they are perfectly normal.

“I am so much in love that I am positively miserable! I keep thinking that perhaps my lover will prove false or that something will happen that I will never marry him. There is hardly a day or night that I do not picture him dead, and then the tears roll down my cheeks. I cannot help it. Do you think he will ever appreciate such affection as this? Do I not love deeper and harder than any other woman?

“Etta W.”

We are sorry to hear that your love is making you miserable. Love is the great brightener and beautifier of the world. There should be no instance where it makes one miserable. We are afraid you are just a little morbid, Etta, but do not think for a minute that you are the only little girl who has ever suffered from such fancies. When one loves, one is always anxious about the welfare of the loved one, and a nervous condition like yours always exaggerates matters.

No, we do not believe you are the “hardest” lover in the world. Many women have not only died but given up their lovers, for love, and this, I am afraid, is far beyond your capabilities.

“I was in Boston last week and went canoeing on the Charles River. It is a beautiful spot, and I was astonished at the scores of young girls and fellows who were out canoeing. My chaperone called my attention to the vulgar attitudes of many of the girls who were lying about on the banks, many of them with their escort’s arms around them. Of course, being a young girl, I was terribly shocked, yet the spot was so ideal that I could hardly blame them. Do you think it is wrong to yield to such fascinating surroundings? My chaperone would be shocked if I asked her such a question.

“Lottie B.”

We know exactly how you felt when you saw the vulgar display upon the banks of the Charles River. We have often seen girls and even women lying about on the seashore in unladylike attitudes, but it never occurred to us to excuse them because of “fascinating surroundings.” In the first place, your chaperone was foolish to call your attention to it. You might possibly have not noticed it, and she should not have given you the opportunity. A girl or woman who assumes unladylike attitudes in public is a very vulgar person. We can overlook a little love-making and sentiment under such conditions, but anything that borders on vulgarity is not to be tolerated.

“I have been married two years and have lived in a Harlem flat. In the last three days I have had my first quarrel with my husband. We were obliged to move, and he made me do all the packing; dishes, books, and everything, and it nearly killed me. I weigh only a hundred pounds, and am very delicate, while my husband weighs two hundred and is strong and healthy. I have decided to leave him if he ever makes me work so hard again. Do you think I am right? Was he not very inconsiderate?

“Flora F. C.”

Your husband is probably too stout to do violent exercise himself, and as you are entirely too slender, he should have compromised by having some one to do the work. No woman that we know is fit to do heavy packing, and you should have refused firmly when he asked you, and explained your reasons. If you begin right away, you may be able to educate him before you move again. There is nothing much more disgusting to look upon than a husband who makes a slave of the wife he has taken.

“I am a very young girl, only fourteen and a half, and I have no work and cannot get any. A young man that I know has offered to support me until I can get a position. Do you think it would be wrong in me to take his money? I only need four dollars a week, and he says he can spare it nicely.

“Lizzie McC.”

We would like very much to have you call upon us at the office of Messrs. Street & Smith before you decide to accept the young man’s money. We have no doubt but that he is perfectly honorable and can not blame you for considering his offer in your present distressed condition. Still, as we said at first, we must see you before advising you.

“When I married a year ago my husband was getting ten dollars a week, and we seemed to have no difficulty in paying our expenses. Now he is getting twelve and we are constantly in debt, yet the household expenses are no larger than before. I am sure I do not spend a penny more than I did a year ago. How am I to find out where it goes to? I am sure my husband spends it.

“Frances T.”

We would advise you to start a petty cash account and try to get your husband to set down his expenditures. When you have accounted for every penny that you have spent during the week it will be his turn to do the same. If he refuses, you must talk to him kindly and try to show him how necessary it is to keep out of debt. Troubles like that have destroyed the happiness of innumerable families. There is a leakage somewhere in your husband’s pocket-book, but you can only find it with the aid of tact and kindness. If you command him to explain he is likely to be more extravagant than ever.

“I am a saleswoman getting ten dollars a week, and I have a little flat for which I pay fourteen dollars a month. The expenses are pretty heavy, and I am often at my wits’ end as to how I shall pay them. A gentleman whom I know is anxious to board with me, and says he will give me five dollars a week for his room with breakfasts. I am eighteen years old and very much in love with this gentleman. Would it be improper for me to take him as a boarder?

“Evelyn T. G.”

It would indeed be very improper for you to take the young man to board. Can you not get a nice, congenial girl friend to go in with you and bear half of the expense?

“Will you kindly answer the following questions which are worrying me greatly: How can a girl of fifteen tell when she is really in love, and how old a man ought she to marry? I have two lovers, a boy of seventeen and a man of forty. I like one as well as the other. Which shall I marry?

“Amy.”

We think you would be foolish to marry either. No girl of fifteen is fit to marry. Wait until you are old enough and wise enough to consider such a step, and, above all things, wait until you are sure you are in love. There will be no uncertainty when the right man comes along. You should develop your talents and graces in order to be ready for him.

“Please tell me if you believe in long engagements? I have been engaged nine years, and am beginning to weary of the condition. All of my girl friends are married, and they are all poking fun at me. My lover knows this, still he does not seem to mind it an atom. Is he not unfeeling and unmanly to keep me waiting?

“Ellen D.”

It is very apparent to us that your lover is not a lover. He is not worthy of the affection of any good woman. If he cannot marry you himself he should take himself out of the way and give some more enterprising man a chance to win you. A nine year engagement must be very stupid. You have our sympathy.

“I am very much perplexed about a simple matter, and I feel sure that you will help me to straighten the tangle. A young man who calls upon me is apparently very much in love with me, yet in spite of the fact that he has been calling for three years, he has never said so much as a word about marriage. I am twenty-five years old and am getting very anxious. If he does not propose pretty soon it will drive me to desperation.

“Alice C.”

You seem to believe that marriage is the chief end and aim of woman. If you are so anxious to marry you had better “pop the question” yourself or else try to get a new lover who will be more speedy in his declarations. Possibly the young man has not yet made up his mind as to your worth as a wife, or possibly he has not money enough to marry, or some such reason. Rather than distress yourself farther, I should certainly ask him his “intentions.” It will at least “straighten the tangle” and show you where you stand. If you were thirty-five instead of twenty-five, there would still be ample time to marry.

“I am anxious to ask you a question, Miss Shirley, and I do hope that you will not think I am silly. I am very fond of kissing, awfully, awfully fond of it, and I hug and kiss my sweetheart just as often as possible. My mother says I am far too forward, and that I will disgust him if I kiss him so often. I should die to lose him, but what can I do? The minute I see him I want to fly at him and kiss him.

“Minnie.”

My dear Minnie, you are certainly in a very bad way. Have you never heard the adage that “familiarity breeds contempt?” There are men in the world who really enjoy osculatory demonstrations such as you delight in, but there are others who prefer an occasional kiss, and, as your mother says, are disgusted at such frequent outbursts of affection. We would advise you to break yourself of the osculatory habit. An occasional kiss contains far more of the nectar of bliss than the “continuous performance” which you seem to indulge in.

A woman cannot be too chary of her kisses before marriage. After your sweetheart is your husband, we shall feel very differently. If he has stood the fire of your affection and crowned it with matrimony it is safe to suppose that your temperament pleases him.

“Will you kindly tell me how I can prove that my fiance loves me? He often says so, but I have no way of proving that he speaks truly. Ought he not to do some noble deed for me, or are the daily little attentions sufficient proof of his devotion?

“Jane L.”

We think that the “little things” of life weigh far more heavily in the balance than one heroic action. Both men and women do a heroic deed, when occasion requires or permits, merely through the stimulus of danger or the love of excitement, but it is the truly good man who is faithful in the “little things,” and smooths the daily life with his thoughtful attentions. We do not think you have anything to fear, as your fiance probably loves you, and he will do the heroic deed if it is ever necessary.

“I am in great distress of mind, and having read your good advice to others, I make bold to come to you in my perplexity. I am not a very good cook, and my husband knew it before he married me. He used to say when he was courting me that anything that was made by my hands would be heavenly. Now he says a woman is a fool who does not know how to cook, and he is positively profane over some of my dishes. I have tried and tried, and I cannot learn to cook. I do dressmaking beautifully, and make quite a little money. Don’t you think he ought to be willing to hire some one to do the cooking?

“Agnes D. B.”

We have heard of men like your husband before. They are a species of human being who should not be tolerated. A right-minded man does not marry a woman simply to have her cook for him, and if that is all he cares about you we certainly pity you. We would not advise any good dressmaker to spend her time in learning to cook; neither would we advise a good cook to fritter away her hours in trying to master the art of dressmaking. Every man to his trade, and every woman, too. If you are helping to support yourself, you can certainly do about as you please, and the first thing for you to do is to put a good girl in your kitchen. Perhaps after your husband has partaken of a few well-cooked meals he will be a little more amenable to reason.

“I have been reading the Correspondence Department of ‘My Queen’ ever since it started, and am going to add my question to the list. Are love and jealousy always inseparable? My lover says they are, and even adds that the greater the jealousy the greater the love, and when I disagree with him he says I do not love him. I should be very glad indeed to hear your opinion.

“Evelyn D.”

We do not see how true love can leave room for much jealousy. In order to love truly, one must have confidence, and with this sentiment in the heart jealousy cannot flourish. Naturally a person can feel hurt at any fancied or real slight from a loved one, but to be genuinely jealous is to be suspicious, and this sentiment is not compatible with honest affection. We should be very “shy” indeed of a jealous man. They have never proven themselves very desirable companions for a woman.

“I am deeply interested in ‘Marion Marlowe,’ and have read the Correspondence in every issue. I would be glad to know who Marion is to marry. I should have married Archie Ray in the very first chapter if it had been me. Do you believe, Miss Shirley, that there are any men like Archie Ray and Dr. Brookes? If there are, I would give a great deal to be able to meet them. The men I know look like mental and moral pigmies in comparison.

“Eva S.”

We can not tell you about Marion yet, for she is a very cautious young lady, and is going to take a long time to decide whom she will marry. Mr. Ray and the doctor are certainly very fine young men, but as they are characters from real life, we are sure there must be others. We would advise you to turn your copies of “My Queen” over to the young men whom you know—perhaps all they need is an example to follow. If you wait a few years with your eyes wide open, we have no doubt but what you will secure a worthy husband such as we are determined to give Marion Marlowe when she shows an inclination to accept him.

“I hope you will not think me foolish for asking your advice, my dear Miss Shirley, but, really, I am very much distressed, and I long for some one to help me. I am a brunette of eighteen and fairly good looking, yet no young man has ever asked me to marry him. Several of my friends have told me that men always prefer blondes, and that if I should bleach my hair my chances would be better. Do you think they are right? I would like to have a lover, and, of course, I hope to be married, but I should feel terrible if I should ruin my nice black hair by bleaching it. Do please advise me what to do in this matter.

“Addie McV.”

We do not agree with your friends that men prefer blondes. On the contrary, both types of beauty have their special admirers among the “sterner sex.” If you have “nice black hair” you should endeavor to retain it as nothing is more stupid and disgusting than for a woman to attempt to alter a beauty that nature has given her. A true man will not love you for the color of your hair any more than he will for the length of your nose or the width of your shoulders. If you are a modest, intelligent girl, the right man will fall in love with you some day, and then if you had green hair it would not make any difference. You are too young to be thinking of marriage, in any event. Wait until after you are twenty-one before you even think of a husband.

“Faith, it’s mesilf as wud loike to ax yez a question, Miss Shirley, av ye plaze! I do be a maid, and a handsome policeman is after makin’ love to me. Sure, phwat will I say to him whin he axes me to marry the loikes av him? Me hearrt trimbles so at the thought that me sinsis do be after lavin’ me.

“Biddy G.”

We suspect “Biddy G” has translated her query into brogue as a bit of pleasantry. However, the question asked is quite to the point. If he is a kind, honorable man, we advise you to say “yes,” very promptly, Biddy. A good policeman ought to be a handy article to have in the family. He ought to be able to guard a nice little, warm-hearted wife and protect her from all harm. Be sure that his “record” is good, and then the “yes” will come easy; but in the words of your own tongue, “if yez can’t say it aisy, say it as aisy as ye can.”

MY QUEEN.

1—From Farm to Fortune; or, Only a Farmer’s Daughter. 2—Marion Marlowe’s Courage; or, A Brave Girl’s Struggle for Life and Honor. 3—Marion Marlowe’s True Heart; or, How a Daughter Forgave. 4—Marion Marlowe’s Noble Work; or, The Tragedy at the Hospital. 5—Marion Marlowe Entrapped; or, The Victim of Professional Jealousy. 6—Marion Marlowe’s Peril; or, A Mystery Unveiled.

MY QUEEN

A Weekly Journal

FOR ... Young Women

CONTAINING THE FAMOUS

Marion Marlowe Stories

Marion Marlowe is a beautiful and ambitious farmer’s daughter, who goes to the great metropolis in search of fame and fortune. One of the most interesting series of stories ever written; each one complete in itself, and detailing an interesting episode in her life.

Published Weekly. Edited by Grace Shirley.

CATALOGUE

_1—From Farm to Fortune; or, Only a Farmer’s Daughter._ _2—Marion Marlowe’s Courage; or, A Brave Girl’s Struggle for Life and Honor._ _3—Marion Marlowe’s True Heart; or, How a Daughter Forgave._ _4—Marion Marlowe’s Noble Work; or, The Tragedy at the Hospital._ _5—Marion Marlowe Entrapped; or, The Victim of Professional Jealousy._ _6—Marion Marlowe’s Peril; or, A Mystery Unveiled._ _7—Marion Marlowe’s Money; or, Brave Work in the Slums._ _8—Marion Marlowe’s Cleverness; or, Exposing a Bold Fraud._ _9—Marion Marlowe’s Skill; or, A Week as a Private Detective._ _10—Marion Marlowe’s Triumph; or, In Spite of Her Enemies._ _11—Marion Marlowe’s Disappearance; or, Almost a Crime._ _12—Marion Marlowe in Society; or, A Race for a Title._

Thirty-two pages, and beautiful cover in colors. =Price, five cents per copy.= For sale by all newsdealers.

STREET & SMITH, Publishers,

238 William Street, New York City.

Transcriber’s Notes

Minor punctuation and printer errors repaired.

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=.