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Updated: June 29, 2025
Belgrade seriously wondered if Trevlyn had not been taking too much champagne. Margie Harrison and her guardian sat at breakfast. Mr. Trevlyn showed his years very plainly. He was nearly seventy-five he looked eighty. Margie looked very lovely this morning and it was of this the old man was thinking as he glanced at her across the table. She had more than fulfilled the promise of her childhood.
We pulled around the stern, and came up to the port gangway, where the steps were rigged out. Hop Tossford handed Miss Margie up the steps to the deck, while I assisted the gentleman, whose name I did not yet know, though I had read "P. T." on the ends of the trunks. I conducted the new passengers to the captain's room.
He had expected Margie to fall at his feet at once. A man of his attractions to be snubbed as he had been, by a mere chit of a girl, too! "I will find means to tame her, when once she is mine," he muttered. "By heaven! but it will be rare sport to break that fiery spirit! It will make me young again!" Something white and shadowy bound his path.
"It's that I'm achin' all the time to hold one in my arms; and always to you I've let on that I didn't care. An' an' I know the hunger in your own fine heart, my lad." Mr. Reynolds' face grew wonderfully soft; indeed, tender in a new understanding. "I didn't know, Margie, that you grieved. Come, look up. You and me are together anyway."
Something, however, made me turn round; I saw a man behind me, jumping the fence beside my gate; and there was Peter Flower! He was in tearing spirits and told me with eagerness how completely he had turned over a new leaf and never intended doing this, that or the other again, as far the most wonderful thing had happened to him that ever happened to any one. "I'm under a lucky star, Margie!
"Are you afraid to risk it?" he asked, almost sadly. "No, I am not afraid! I will risk everything!" she answered. Meantime, what of Margie Harrison? Through the dull, stormy day she had been whirled along like the wind. The train was an express, and made few stoppages. Margie took little note of anything which occurred.
She wore a pink muslin wrapper, tied with white ribbons, and in her hair drooped a cluster of apple-blossoms. "Margie dear," said Mr. Trevlyn, pausing in his work of buttering a muffin, "I want you to look your prettiest to-night. I am going to bring home a friend of mine one who was also your father's friend Mr. Linmere. He arrived from Europe to-day."
"Frankly, I didn't enjoy it." "Bah!" Margie turned to Briskow, but in his attitude, his averted gaze, she read the doom of her hopes. One final chance remained, however, and desperately she snatched at it. "Buddy!" she cried. "Buddy!" Her voice was poignant as she pleaded. "I couldn't tell you the truth.
"My blessed child!" cried the old lady; "my precious little Margie! My old eyes will almost grow young again, after having been cheered by the sight of ye!" And she kissed Margie again and again, while Leo expressed his delight in true canine style by barking vociferously, and leaping over the chairs and tables. Nurse Day was pleasantly situated.
She saw beneath it the pale, dead face of Alexandrine Trevlyn. She dropped the pall, uttered a cry of horror, and sank upon a chair. The door unclosed noiselessly, and Mrs. Lee, the mother of the dead woman, came in. "Oh, Margie! Margie!" she cried, "pity me! My heart is broken! My darling! My only child is taken from me!"
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