“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Marion, sympathetically, as she took a step forward and held out both of her white hands.
“It is dreadful to lose a friend. I am truly sorry for you, Carlotta.”
By this time the wicked woman had formed her plans, and, as she turned and accepted the young girl’s hand, she said to her, pleadingly:
“Dear Miss Marlowe, you are so good and sweet to me that I am almost tempted to ask you a favor.”
“What is it?” asked the girl, with impulsive eagerness. “Oh, I shall be so delighted if I can comfort you.”
“Come home with me to-night, dear,” begged the woman, brokenly. “I shall grieve myself to death if I have to stay alone to-night. Do come; there is nothing to hinder you, is there?”
Marion Marlowe looked astonished at this request from a stranger, but she was not accustomed to stand upon ceremony when the opportunity was offered her to do a kindness.
“Only my twin sister,” was her thoughtful answer. “Dollie will expect me, of course, and will be waiting up. You see she is married, and I am living with her at present. I would feel dreadfully to give her a night of anxiety.”
She spoke so honestly that once more the woman felt a twinge of shame, but she steeled herself promptly against all feelings of sympathy.
“You can send her a message,” she said. “I’ll write it and tell her how kind you are to me. So, now, that is settled, and you are coming. I’ll be ready in a minute and my carriage is waiting.”