THE END OF THE TRAGEDY.
A sharp turn in the hallway caused Marion to shriek with terror. Two
hideous Chinamen had sprung at her, and as they caught her in their
arms, one of the beady-eyed wretches forced a saturated cloth over her
nostrils.
Marion felt her breath coming in quick, short gasps. She struggled
feebly, but her brain seemed reeling.
In a flash she was carried along the hall, down a flight of steep
steps, and then, after the click of a key in a lock, she was taken
into a room that was as dark as a dungeon. A confused jargon of voices
came faintly to her ears and she could feel that the place was fairly
swarming with the yellow devils.
The entire roomful of beings seemed to fall back as she was carried
along, and at last she was placed on a sort of divan in the very
darkest and most heavily-draped corner of what seemed to her to be a
subterranean apartment. The cloth on her nostrils was pungent with
narcotics, but she managed by a great effort of the will to somewhat
resist its influence.
Suddenly the light of a swinging lamp flashed from somewhere above
her head, and one glance about her made Marion’s heart grow sick with
horror.
A score or more of those gaunt-cheeked fellows were surrounding her,
and as the first ray of the lamp fell upon her face, they all pressed
forward and peered at her sharply.
In the onslaught which his companions made on him the fellow who was
holding the cloth to Marion’s face dropped it from his fingers, and
with the first clear breath Marion dashed to her feet and confronted
them.
“Stand back! Don’t you dare to touch me!” she cried, springing up on
the divan, which stood directly under the hanging lamp.
In a second a dozen pairs of long, skinny hands were reached out for
her, and as Marion felt them clutching her arms and body, she gave a
shriek that awoke the echoes.
The next instant she reached up quickly and, with one blow of her white
hand, shivered the glass of the lamp; then, with the flame blowing
wildly in the draughts of the room, she broke it from its fastenings
and began swinging it like a censer.
“Stand back!” she shouted again. “Don’t you dare to come nearer! I will
burn your house down about your heads if you lay a finger upon me!”
As she spoke she waved the lamp closer to the draperies, and the
Chinamen fell back and began chattering excitedly.
For just a second she held them at bay, while the glare from the lamp
illumined her glorious features. Then, from directly over her head,
there came a sharp, shrill whistle. As the Chinamen heard it they
seemed to lose their wits entirely, and in an instant their beautiful
prisoner was forgotten.
With shrieks and yells of rage they scrambled over each other, and then
slunk like rats into the darkest corners.
Once more the young girl’s voice rang out like a bugle blast, and then,
to her unbounded delight, it was answered from somewhere.
Cry after cry issued rapidly from her lips. They were coming to save
her. She could hear footsteps and voices.
As the door was burst in a gust of wind extinguished her lamp, and
Marion sank down upon the divan in utter helplessness.
“Miss Marlowe! Is it possible! Thank Heaven, I am in time!”
It was Howard Everett who spoke, and with a cry of joy Marion answered
him.
A score of burly policemen seemed to fill the place, and Everett drew
her closely to his side as they darted about after the Celestials.
“They are raiding the place,” he whispered in her ear. “How fortunate
that the attempt was so opportune! For once in my life my good angel
must have guided me! Come, let us get out of this,” he added, leading
Marion to the door and half lifting her up the steps to the narrow
hallway.
“But Carlotta! Have they found her?” asked Marion, in a whisper.
“The woman is dead! I did not mean she should escape me,” was her
companion’s answer. “It seems she had heart disease, and the opium
killed her. Well, at last my friend Graham’s death has been avenged,
but your presence here, Miss Marlowe! I cannot understand it!”
Marion held out her hand to him as she was being hurried along.
“You followed her here because you think she was his murderer?” she
whispered, softly.
“I had no doubt of it,” was Everett’s reply. “Detectives have been
watching the woman ever since. They tracked her here, and then I asked
the captain to raid the place.”
They were passing through the pseudo laundry now, but there was not a
Chinaman in sight. The room was absolutely deserted.
“And you heard my voice?” asked the young girl, as Mr. Everett
supported her tenderly.
“Yes, but did not recognize it, of course,” said Mr. Everett quickly.
“I thought it was the voice of one of their white slaves. But do hurry,
Miss Marlowe, and tell me how you came here.”
With a tremendous stamping of feet the policemen came into the laundry.
“Nine chinks, one white man and four women, one dead,” said the
captain, in reply to a question from Everett.
The critic whispered a few words in his ear relating to Marion, and,
with a sharp glance at her face, the captain nodded.
“We’ve taken them all out through a side door to this establishment
that we found, and three of my men have taken them away in the patrol
wagon. Come, boys, let’s get out of this dope hole as soon as possible!
Whew! The aroma is something awful! I’ll be asleep in another minute!”
“I thought I should faint when I first encountered it,” said Marion to
Everett. “Oh, how thankful I am to you, Mr. Everett!”
There was a carriage at the curb, and the critic helped her into it.
“What a narrow escape I have had!” cried the girl, as Everett got
in beside her. “An hour longer in that place and I should have been
dead—like Carlotta!”
Then she hastened to tell her friend the whole story of her adventure.
The papers were full of it the next day, and, thanks to Howard Everett,
every detail was given accurately.
Beautiful Marion’s escape from the lair of the Celestials formed the
talk of the town for days. She was perhaps the first white girl to
leave that place untainted.
Both she and Mr. Everett appeared before the authorities the next day,
and it was not long before Chi-Lung-Hing, his subjects, and Jack Green
were all safely in prison.
The three white girls were restored to their homes and parents, and the
numerous expensive opium “layouts” were confiscated and destroyed by
the police.
The wicked Carlotta left money enough to afford her a decent burial,
but there was not a mourner at her dreary funeral.
The Temple Opera Company was obliged to disband; but now that Miss
Lindsay was freed from her brutal husband, she was able to take a
position in another organization and live very comfortably on her
modest salary.
At Miss Allyn’s urgent request, Marion went to live with her until she
could secure another position, and besides Dr. Brookes and Mr. Ray,
Howard Everett, the critic, was soon a frequent caller at the little
flat.
But Marion was as loyal to her associates as ever, and she was so pure,
so true and so noble in character that no thought of jealousy ever
annoyed for a long time any of her friends who loved her.
THE END.
The next number will contain “Marion Marlowe’s Peril; or, A Mystery
Unveiled.”
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.
“Will you please advise me in the following matter? I am engaged to a
young man who is only making twenty dollars a week, and who is obliged
to support his old father and mother. If I marry him I must live with
the old folks, and do all the work. Do you think by doing this I could
ever be happy?
“Mamie.”
We think the chances are that you would be very miserable indeed. You
had better wait until the young man is able to employ some one to
take care of his parents, and then you can have your own little nest
together. It is not well, as a rule, for a young married couple to
begin life in the same house with their relatives.
“I have been reading the ‘Marion Marlowe’ stories with great interest,
but I am inclined to think that Marion is something of a coquette,
and that she does not seem to know her own mind where her lovers are
concerned. The stories are very interesting and exciting, and I enjoy
them immensely, but I felt sorry for ‘Archie Ray’ and ‘Dr. Brookes.’
I feel like scolding Marion because she does not love them. I wish I
had her chance to marry either one of them. If they are really true
characters I wish you would send me their addresses.
“M. B.”
We are glad to hear that you are reading the “My Queen” series, but we
are afraid you have not studied Marion’s character very thoroughly. She
has been absolutely honest with the two young men you mention, and no
one would resent the term of “coquette” more quickly than they would.
Unfortunately, we do not know their addresses at present, so we cannot
favor you, but no doubt, both gentlemen would feel honored at your
candid appreciation.
“I have been married two years, and have a baby six months old. My
husband says I give all my time to the baby and none to him. The baby
is delicate, and no one can soothe him except his mother. If I must
neglect either one, which should be neglected?
“Florence McK.”
This is the same old story that we have heard many times. Many married
men use it as an excuse for spending their time elsewhere, and God pity
the wives of such inhuman monsters! You have brought an innocent child
into this world of sin and woe. It is your duty to devote yourself to
it just so long as it needs or claims your devotion. The claims of wife
are nothing when compared with the duty of motherhood. The man or woman
who would neglect his or her own child for even one hour is guilty of
the greatest sin that can be committed. You cannot expect your child to
grow up loving or respecting you unless you have proven yourself worthy
of these sentiments. Try and make your husband understand your position
and his in this important matter.
“I have been brought up to think that it was a sin to drink liquor,
and now I am deeply in love with a young man who often drinks a glass
of wine; who, to the best of my knowledge, has never been tipsy. Would
I be doing right to marry this man? I do not know how I can give him
up, and yet I hate to go against my principle.
“Edna.”
Your anxiety is very natural, but we hardly think you would be doing
wrong to marry a man who takes a glass of wine occasionally. History
is filled with the names of great men who were not total abstainers.
If liquor disagrees with a man, or he is prone to yield to its
insidious fascination, that is another matter, but the mere fact of a
man taking an occasional drink is not a sign that he is destined to
fill a drunkard’s grave. Total abstinence is commendable, and in the
case of men weak in will power it is almost a necessity, but many a
man who is a moderate drinker will prove a better husband than the
total abstainer, whose other virtues are not as fully developed as his
abstinence.
Study the character of the man whom you think perhaps to marry. If
he is honorable, brave and true, you can safely trust your life’s
happiness in his hands, despite his occasional glass of wine.
“I am so sick at heart that I can hardly write this letter, but I must
know your opinion, my dear Miss Shirley. I have been deeply in love
for over a year, and now I am forced to believe that the object of my
affections has forsaken me for another. Oh, what can I do to win him
back! I shall certainly die if I have to live another week without him!
“Imogen S.”
There is anguish in every word of this letter, and we are very sorry
indeed for you, Imogen. There is no grief so poignant as that which a
young girl feels when she awakes to the fact which you seem to have
discovered. But bear in mind, my dear, that there are scores of lovely
and lovable men on earth, and perhaps your cloud will yet have a silver
lining. Some day you will meet a man whose love will be all your own,
and you will be able to see that this first disappointment was all for
the best. We would not advise you to try and get him back. If he does
not come back of himself his love is not worth having.
“Will you please tell me if you think fifteen is too young to love?
I am just that age, and I have just met a young man who is very
attractive, and I know he is in love with me and wants me to marry
him. People tell me that at my age I don’t know my own mind. I should
hate to marry him thinking that I love him and then find myself
mistaken.
“Lotta.”
A letter like this is a positive treat! A girl of fifteen who can
reason so wisely will not be apt to make many errors. A great deal
of the misery in the world has been created through thoughtless and
hasty marriages. Women marry men at eighteen whom they despise at
twenty-five, or choose husbands at twenty-five whom they have ceased to
love or respect at thirty. Human nature is ever changeable, and it is
one of the most difficult tasks in the world to discover two intellects
that will be perfect mates for life. One may go ahead or lag behind,
and because of this the result of marriages is uncertain. We would
certainly advise you to wait until you are older. No girl of fifteen
is sufficiently well developed mentally or physically to marry, and,
furthermore, your education cannot be completed at your age.
“I have been married a year, and, oh, how I regret it! Just think,
Miss Shirley, I was an only daughter. I earned ten dollars a week as
cloak model down town, and having no board to pay, could use it all
in pin money. Now ten dollars a week has to do for a whole family,
my husband, myself and a six weeks’ old baby. I would give the world
if I had never been married, and I write this letter as a warning to
others. I do hope you will print it in your correspondence columns.
“Mrs. G.”
We receive so many letters like this one that if we printed them all
we are afraid we should discourage matrimony. You should have “looked
before you leaped,” but that is a thing that young people in love
rarely do. It seems strange that love, or whatever the sentiment is
that draws some young people together, should so blind their eyes to
the future. We are very sorry that you have made such a blunder, but
now that you have done it you should make the best of it. For the sake
of your child you must “put your shoulder to the wheel” and try to
conquer every obstacle that threatens your domestic happiness. Above
all, try not to take too many into your confidence in this wise; people
will only laugh at you for marrying in haste. It is better to hide your
grief and bear the penalty of your own error with silent dignity.
“I have read your Correspondence Department for several weeks with
great interest, and wish to add one more to the list of questions.
What I want to know is this: Is a woman of thirty too old to marry
a man of twenty-one, and what will be the natural outcome of such a
union?
“Gertrude B.”
As a rule, we should answer “yes” to the above question, but there
are exceptional cases which demand a different answer. Some men of
twenty-one are very mature both mentally and physically, and many women
of thirty are as sprightly as kittens. Mentality should always decide
this question. If a woman of thirty has every taste in common with a
man much younger and feels confident that she possesses sufficient
spirit and magnetism to charm him through the years that are before
them, she is running very little risk in marrying him. It is true that
most women age faster than most men, but the exception is not so rare
as it used to be, however. Physical exercise and a more intelligent
mode of living are keeping our women young nowadays, while the men are
inclined to age a little prematurely.
“I am very much in love with a man of fifty who is a widower with four
children, the oldest being only fifteen. Would you advise me to marry
him? He has no money of his own—is working on a small salary.
“Abbie S.”
No, we do not advise you to marry him. The position of step-mother to
four children is not an enviable one. No doubt, he wants you to be a
mother to his children, a wife to him, cook, housekeeper, needle-woman
and perhaps laundress. We advise you to look farther before you marry.
“I have read every number of ‘Marion Marlowe,’ and I can hardly wait
for the weeks to come around. I know a young man who is exactly like
‘Bert Jackson,’ and I mean to catch him for a husband, if possible. Do
you blame me?
“Nora.”
I do not indeed, and I wish you success! Young men like “Bert Jackson”
are very rare. We advise you to do all that you can, modestly and
properly, of course, to make Bert’s counterpart fall in love with you.
We are sure it will be a happy marriage.
“I am about to be married, my dear Miss Shirley, and I am sure it
will surprise you to learn that I am very unhappy. All my life I
have heard and read of the ‘perfect bliss’ which a young girl feels
on the eve of her marriage, yet I am to be married in a week, and I
spend half of my time in crying. I think that I love my future husband
very dearly, yet I can’t bear to give up my girlhood and be a married
woman, and then I am beset by the responsibilities and uncertainties
of the future. Am I different from other girls, or is this a natural
feeling? I cannot talk to my mother on this subject. She is a very
peculiar woman and only laughs at my anxieties.
“C. F. B.”
Your condition of mind seems to us to be very natural. The girl who
can stand upon the threshold of matrimony and feel differently must be
sadly lacking in the elements of common sense and caution. But there
is no necessity for leaving your “girlhood behind.” Take it right
along with you into your married life, only add to it day by day the
grace and wisdom of a woman. I have seen many married women who played
with dolls in their leisure hours, and I think their husbands really
enjoyed witnessing their innocent pleasure. Women, or most of them,
“settle down” too thoroughly as soon as they are married. They forget
that it was their “girlishness” that first charmed their lovers, and
that this same “girlishness” can be made to charm and hold a husband.
Never grow old in your husband’s eyes if you can help it. As for the
responsibilities and uncertainties, they will not all come in a minute.
When they do come, you will be surprised to find how easily you can
manage them.
“I have been told over and over that all marriages are failures, and
as I look about me I am tempted to believe it, yet if this is true,
what is the use of living? Must we go on slaving and toiling without a
ray of happiness in this life. If marriage is a failure, then love is
a failure. Is there anything left worth living or striving for?
“C. V. S.”
This letter is the result of some old busy-body’s croaking. There are
plenty of happy marriages where love reigns supreme, and there will
be plenty more if truth is to be relied upon. The people who say that
marriage is a failure are usually the ones who have made it a failure
by their own foolishness or wickedness. The ideal married life is
heaven on earth, and it is possible to all who will strive to attain
it. Choose wisely, carefully and with moderation, then remember that
the germ of love must be constantly nourished, and that the greatest
care is needed to make it bloom fragrantly. Those who expect much are
apt to give little. The perfect harmony of the family depends upon
mutual effort and a constant endeavor to please one another.
This world would be a sad place indeed were it not for love. The power
of affinity holds the universe together.
“Will you please advise me in the following matter: I have received an
invitation to dine with a man I have never met. He is a friend of one
of my girl friends, and I think she is in love with him. She showed
him my picture and now he has written me this letter of invitation.
I believe he is rich, and I would like to meet him. Would it be
honorable to my friend to accept his invitation?
“A. F.
First of all, we do not think it would be “honorable” to yourself to
dine with a man whom you have never seen or to whom you have never been
introduced, and we cannot understand your considering his invitation
for a minute. The proper thing for you to do is to pay no attention to
the letter. It was decidedly rude and uncomplimentary to you to write
it in the first place.
“The social season is just beginning in our town, and there is a
party, or ball, or something of the sort almost every evening. I enjoy
going out more than anything else, but my parents object to my doing
so, and scold me continually. I am sixteen years old, and it does seem
to me that I ought to be allowed to have some fun. Don’t you think
they are awfully mean not to allow me pleasure of this sort?
“Annie S.”
Your parents are a great deal wiser than you are, Annie, and we advise
you not to go contrary to their wishes. You are much too young to be
thinking of social pastimes. Stay at home for a year or two more at
least, and spend your time with your books improving your mind and
fitting yourself to be a useful, helpful woman. When you do begin to go
out again make your pleasures incidental to your life, and do not allow
them to absorb your whole time and thought.
“I have read every number of ‘My Queen’ and have enjoyed them
immensely. I think Marion the sweetest girl that ever lived, and I am
sure that her creator, Miss Shirley, is awfully wise. Will she be kind
enough to spare time to give me a little advice? I am nineteen years
old and have been in society for two years, but, somehow, I don’t get
along in company a bit. Other girls laugh and talk, but I can never
find anything to say, and the men all vote me a bore, I am sure. Can
you tell me of some magic method by which I can attain the social
graces.
“Jean R. R.”
Thank you for your kind words in regard to “My Queen” and the author’s
wisdom. Experience is the only teacher, Jean, and a hard one at that.
Do not be disheartened if you do not attract the men who like the
chattering, giggling girls—probably you will attract the quietest
and most substantial, and make firmer friends of them than the other
girls could possibly make of the other men. In a general way, you can
probably overcome your diffidence and backwardness in conversation by
endeavoring to discover in what subject a man is interested and then
talking of that. If he finds that you are interested yourself in his
fads he will take interest enough in you to interest himself in yours,
and then the wheels of conversation will run smoothly enough.
“One of the best fellows in the world has asked me to become his wife.
I esteem him highly—I might almost say that I love him if I had not
decided long ago to leave the word ‘love’ out of my dictionary. I
feel that I would be happy indeed if I were his wife, but there is a
chapter in my life that I dread to tell him, and still I think too
much of him to marry him without being perfectly candid. Won’t you
tell me what to do? I am heart-broken over the situation.
“Marie W. S.”
It is much better to be frank before marriage than to make two people
unhappy after. If this young man really loves you he will forgive much,
endure much, condone much, and his affection will still survive in
spite of all. If his regard stands the test you will have a husband and
lover of whom you may be proud. If it does not you may feel assured
that he would have probably made your married life miserable, and that
you have saved both him and yourself considerable unhappiness. The man
that will listen to your revelation and continue to love you, has in
that one act proven his value. The man who does not, likewise proves
that his affection is a matter of circumstance, and not the unfailing,
all-enduring type that is really of worth. There is an old proverb,
“Tell the truth and fear naught,” that exactly fits your case.
“I am in love with one of the most charming girls in the United
States, but I am not quite sure that she loves me. I have read lots
of your good advice to young women, so I hope you will be willing to
give me some. I want this girl for my wife, but, frankly, I am afraid
to ask her. I have more of her society than any one else as it is, and
if she doesn’t accept me I am afraid I’ll lose it all. Now, won’t you
please advise me what to do.
“Edward H.”
You seem to be a very diffident young man, Edward. If you really love
this girl, why don’t you tell her so, and see what she says? “Faint
heart never won fair lady.” If she doesn’t love you she will only say
“no,” and then you can look for another who will perhaps appreciate
your timid nature.
“He either fears his fate too much—
Or his deserts are small
Who dreads to put it to the touch
And win or lose it all.”
Those lines were written by one of our best students of human nature.
Grace Shirley would advise you to study them carefully, and if you
cannot summon up enough courage to test your standing in this young
woman’s affection we would advise you to retire to a monastery.
“I enjoy going about with the boys more than I do anything else, and
as I am a great favorite with them I get lots of invitations. I live
with an aunt who makes my life miserable scolding about my keeping
late hours. I think she is really jealous because I get attention and
she doesn’t, but I would like to know some way to avoid the continual
quarrels I have with her on the subject. I am nearly eighteen years
old, and I think I ought to be allowed to have my own way, don’t you?
“Mildred D.”
Your aunt may not take the wisest way to show you that you are acting
foolishly, but her intentions are certainly good. A girl of your
years should not spend her time “going about with the boys.” You would
be doing much better if you would spend your leisure hours fitting
yourself to become the wife of some good man who may some day desire
your entire society. The attentions of “the boys” may seem very
enjoyable now, but a few years later you will no doubt look upon the
time spent in this way with regret. Do not be too anxious to have
your own way, but remember that other people’s views may be much more
sensible than your own.
Tobacco Cure
How a Mother Banished Cigarettes and
Tobacco With a Harmless Remedy.
Costs Nothing to Try.
[Illustration]
The remedy is odorless and tasteless can be mixed with coffee or food
and when taken into the system a man cannot use tobacco in any form.
The remedy contains nothing that could possibly do injury. It is
simply an antidote for the poisons of tobacco and takes nicotine out
of the system. It will cure even the confirmed cigarette fiend and is
a Godsend to mothers who have growing boys addicted to the smoking of
cigarettes. Anyone can have a free trial package by addressing Rogers
Drug & Chemical Co., 1138 Fifth and Race Sts., Cincinnati, O., and
easily drive foul tobacco smoke and dirty spittoons from the home.
Was Devoid of Hair
WHAT A FREE TRIAL PACKAGE OF A REMEDY DID FOR HER.
[Illustration: MISS EMMA EMOND.]
Miss Emond lives in Salem, Mass., at 276 Washington St. and naturally
feels very much elated to recover from total baldness. The remedy that
caused Miss Emond’s hair to grow also cures itching and dandruff, sure
signs of approaching baldness and keeps the scalp healthy and vigorous.
It also restores gray hair to natural color and produces thick and
lustrous eyebrows and eyelashes. By sending your name and address to
the Altenheim Medical Dispensary, 1551 Butterfield Bldg., Cincinnati,
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prepaid a free trial of their remarkable remedy.
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=.