“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.