The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1875-04-08

joining studio. But the strangers back
was turned to her as he bent over the
PROSTATE figure of Dora.
Nor was he aware of the wonlan's
presence in the apartment until she
touched him lightly on the shoulder, and
in rather timid voice said, Is the lady
Ill, sir? I was in the next room, and
heard =. Heavens, Mark you here?"
"Ellen' The man had suddenly
turned his face toward the speaker, while
still STOPPING over Mrs. Austin's sense
less body. "Oh, I recollect,' he con-
tnued, sternly; "you told me that you
went out as model, and this woman's
husband is an artist. That accounts,
perhaps, for you being here, and you
may thank your stars for having so good
an excuse. If / thought you had fol-
LOaUed me -"
The angry flash of his dark eyes fin
ished the sentence more powerfully than
words could have done.
Trembling in every limb, the woman
answered, pleadingly: 81 had no
thought of following you, Mark I
never imagined that you knew this lady.
T."
"Leave this house instantly, Ellen
Don't hesitate moment, but go at
once"
The woman shuddered, and turned
toward the door leading into the studio.
ct may explain this matter to you
some other time," the man continued !;
but remember, warn you against re-
naming in this house moment longer
than you can help"
When the studio-door had closed be-
hind the woman's retreating steps, Mark
Dillon once more bent over the white
face of Dora Austin. A faint shiver con-
vulsed her frame at this moment, and
while his gaze was eagerly fastened upon
her cOuntenance, the silken lashes slowly
lifted themselves from her eyes.
"Then it was no DREAM she muir
INJURED, hoarsely, rising from her fallen
posture, assisted by the man she adj
dressed. "You have come" she pres
entity continued, "to reveal all to Mel
vile Austin"
She sank back into an armchair now,
with weary, gasping sigh.
81 haven't come to do anything of the
sort, Dora Dillon" the man said with a
kind of sullen emphasis in his gruff
tones. CT don't wish to claim you as
my wife. You believed me dead, three
years ago, and married Melville Austin
there's nothing particularly culpable
about your conduct as far as can dis
cover. [ shall be the last one, depend
upon it, my dear Mrs. Austin, to reveal
anything disagreeable concerning your
antecedents. :"
"And a0hy will you reveal nothing?
Let there be no disguise between us,
Mark Dillon. [ know your brutal nature
thoroughly. You came here this morn
ing to sell your silence Is it not so 2"
You are perfectly right, Mrs. Austin
or Mrs. Dillon. Which is it to be, by
the way?'
His tones were defantly supercilious;
his keen, cruel eyes were fixed upon the
agOnized woman with something of a
serpent's pitiless gaza when the prey is
within easy distance, and possession has
become a certainty.
But Mark Dillon started back with
amazement, as Dsra answered him,
calmly, scornfully and decisively, in the
following words:
" shall not deceive the man to whom
| owe all the happiness I have ever en-
joyed in this world-the man whom [
love, honor and reverence, as only ma
trre like Melville Austin's is worthy of
being regarded. When [ married him,
Mark Dillon, [ acted upon my firm CON
viction Of your death. Now, I know
myself to have been in error, and a single
course remains to me. The instant that
Melville Austin returns home, shall in
form him of the truth"
Are you mad, Dora Dillon 2" he ex-
claimed, every trace of his supercilious
manner gone, and nothing but sort of
furious surprise remaining. care you
mad, thus to throw away the position
you have won ITO make of yourself
beggarly outcast to-"
Enough of this, Mark Dillon" she
interrupted haughtily. "Your game was
bold one, but it has proved failure.
All, my husband ~
Melville Austin had suddenly entered
the apartment CHANGING at the ashen-
pale countenance of Dora, look of
amazement overspread his own. Then,
turning toward the stranger, who stood
beside the chair in which she was seated,
Mr.. Austin said, cit strikes me that
heard your voice, raised in rather dis
respectfully loud tone, as I stood in
the hall moment ago. Were you adj
dressing this lady, sir? Dora, who is
this person 2"
A slight tremor shook Dora Austin's
frame, and her CHASTITY lips q1livered for
an instant. But only for an instant.
She had risen now, and was addressing
Melville, who listened silently until she
had ceased speaking, stupefed, doubt
less, by the dreadful import of what she
uttered
That man, Melville, is my husband.
Five years ago, before you and [ ever
met, poverty had reduced my mother
and myself to the last stages of want.
On my mothers death, and while I was