CHAPTER V.

THE SECRET PROMISE.

When Marion Marlowe returned to consciousness she was lying on a cot in the ward of a hospital.

She was considerably dazed as yet, and looked around inquiringly.

“Dear me, what am I doing here?” she said, dreamily. “Why am I lying here, when I ought to be on duty?”

“You have met with a slight accident,” said a pleasant voice very near her, as a white-capped nurse appeared. “You are in Chambers Street Hospital, not Charity, Miss Marlowe.”

Marion tried to sit up, and partially succeeded. In a very few moments she remembered everything distinctly.

“Was my sister hurt?” she asked at once. “Oh, do tell me if anything happened to Dollie!”

“No, she escaped unharmed,” was the prompt reply. “Your brave action saved her, my dear Miss Marlowe.”

Marion leaned back on her pillow with an exclamation of gratitude. She did not care for herself, but thought only of Dollie.

“You have been here twenty-four hours now,” said the nurse very quietly, “but we consider you marvelously lucky to have escaped as you did. Fortunately, that horseless carriage struck a stone at that instant and swerved a little, which saved not only your life, but your bones, Miss Marlowe.”

Marion smiled very sweetly. It did not alarm her to hear what had happened. She was not suffering at all, only she felt bruised and lame.

“The careless fellow was arrested,” went on the nurse, quietly, “but he swore that he had lost control of the carriage, and as they did not hold him, of course you can have him re-arrested at any time you wish. I believe he gave them his name and address.”

“Oh, no, I’ll not bother!” said the sick girl, quickly. She was thinking of her friend, the woman who had loved this fellow, and for her sake she did not mean to follow up the matter. It did not occur to her then to question the nurse about the extent of her injuries, but in a few moments she began thinking about her duties.

“Did my sister wire the superintendent at Charity?” she asked, very anxiously.

“Yes, and both Dr. Hall and Miss Williams wired back their regrets. They said for you not to worry, but just get well as soon as possible. And I guess you are going to mind them,” she added, with a smile, “for now that the shock to the brain has passed, I hope to send you home to your friends very shortly.”

There was a little rustle of skirts and a light footstep coming down the ward.

“Is she better?” asked a cheery voice from the other side of the bed.

Marion recognized it instantly and turned her head on the pillow. The lady who stood beside her was her dear friend, Alma Allyn. Miss Allyn was a woman of twenty-five, fine-looking, stylish and far wiser than the average.

She was a newspaper reporter, with an excellent position, and had befriended the two country girls ever since they came to the city.

“We’ll take you right up to Harlem to the flat now,” she said, as she kissed Marion fondly, “and I’ll have a nurse to take care of you until you are well, unless Dollie insists on giving up her position.”

“Then she did not lose it?” said Marion, in surprise.

Miss Allyn looked grave, but she tried to speak cheerfully.

“No, she did not lose it, in spite of your plain speech, Marion. Such men as her employer do not give up their projects so easily, but this accident of yours has made her do a little thinking. I fancy her lover will have no cause to complain of her in future.”

“Poor Ralph,” sighed Marion, “I pity him sometimes! Dollie is such a child! Really, I am almost sorry there is an engagement.”

“Don’t let it worry you,” said Miss Allyn, brightly, “and, now, before I go, I am going to tell you some good news. Your friend, Mr. Ray, is back in town, and you have no idea how anxious he is to see you.”

The sweet face on the pillow flushed slightly at her words, and a little smile brought out two bewitching dimples.

“Oh, I am so glad!” Marion murmured, with a happy look in her eyes, and just then the nurse came over and dismissed her friend pleasantly.

As Marion lay on her cot she had ample time to think, and there were many subjects just now that were clamoring for attention. Here they were, she and Dollie, in the great city of New York, without friends or money, except what their own efforts brought to them.

Still, through these very efforts she had already accomplished a little.

Her first triumph has been in saving her sister from a villain’s clutches; another, the heroic act of saving a life, had brought her sufficient money to pay off the mortgage on the old homestead in the country and so save her parents from a home at the Poor Farm. But aside from these bright spots, it had been all sorrow and suffering, but Marion had hoped it was all over when Dollie secured the position in Lawyer Atherton’s office, and she, herself, was accepted as a nurse in Charity Hospital.

Miss Allyn had fitted up a cosy little flat in Harlem and taken Dollie to live with her, and Miss Allyn was so wise and so fond of the girl, Marion’s heart was full of gratitude toward the noble woman.

“Oh, Dollie, my poor, weak sister!” she whispered to herself, “why is it you cannot learn to trust those who are wiser than you? Have you not had bitterness enough already in your young life, but that you must persist in wilfully inviting more sorrow?”

It was a happy moment when Mr. Ray and his sister were announced. They were the first friends she had made in the city, but they had been abroad almost from the week they met, and their homecoming brought a pleasure that was most wonderfully sweet and consoling.

“Miss Marlowe! Marion!” cried Adele Ray, as she clasped Marion in her arms. “How glad I am to see you again, but how unutterably unpleasant to find you in a hospital!”

“As brave as ever, I hear,” were Archie Ray’s first words, as he extended both hands and grasped the girl’s slim fingers.

Marion gazed from one to the other in eager delight.

“Oh, I am so happy!” she murmured over and over, “and I am going home to-morrow, so you will not have to see me here again, Adele. I know it must have been a shock to you to see me in a hospital.”

The two girls chatted together, while Archie Ray looked on. He was a tall, handsome young man, with dark, pleading eyes, and possessed a charmingly aristocratic manner.

He had been deeply in love with Marion before he went abroad, and now, when he saw her again, all the old tenderness came back to him, and he longed almost uncontrollably to press her to his bosom.

But if Marion read his thoughts, she did not show it by so much as a glance. There was an open cordiality in her manner that baffled him completely.

Suddenly Adele Ray’s face grew clouded in the midst of their talking. It was evident to Marion that she was thinking of something unpleasant.

“Oh, Marion, dear, I want you to help us,” she said, slowly. “We have a terrible secret for your ears, but it has to be told, and the sooner the better. We want you to do us a favor, my brother and I, and, oh, Marion, dear, do give us your sympathy!”

She looked so distressed that Marion’s cheeks grew pale, but she took Miss Ray’s hand and held it tightly.

Archie Ray bit his lips and his face clouded a little. He had been momentarily dreading this particular moment, for he knew what was coming and would almost have given his life to have prevented it.

“I will help you gladly,” Marion whispered quickly. “There is nothing you would ask that I would not willingly promise.”

The fair girl little realized the blow which she was about to receive, else she could hardly have smiled as bravely as she did at that minute.

Adele Ray leaned over and whispered something in her ear, and as Marion listened her cheeks grew as pale as death itself.

“Is it possible?” she murmured, in a far-away voice, and then her wavering eyes met the glance of Adele Ray’s brother.

The sadness in those dark eyes went straight to Marion’s heart. In an instant her own grief was put aside and she was willing to bear anything for this fond, noble brother.

As she answered Adele’s appeal, she still looked at her brother and the words, “I will do it,” were said to him. To him she had given her sacred, secret promise.