Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1875-05-12
MAR sHELTON'S WIFE.
BY OLIVE BELL.

Mark Shelton, esq.,, and, his wife sat
down to breakfast in one Of the CO.
ziest of dining rooms Mark with a
cloud on his naturally pleasant face,
and his wife's placid countenance
wearing a puzzled and sorrowful look,
for when had he been angry at her
before
He had scarcely spoken to her the
previous evening, and he looked sui
len and gloomy still What had she
done ? She had pondered the thought
over and over yet she had not dared
to ask him.
The morning sunlight streamed in
to the room as they silently drank
their coffee and abstractedly nibbled
their mullins; and broad stripes Of
yellow gold lay on the sea green
ground on the carpet, mingling softly
with the bright tints of the autumn
leaves that sprinkled it and lighting
up the pictures on the vanished walls,
until they stood out vivified into life
like perfection in the mellow light.
The fire burned cheerfully in the pol
ished CRATE, the canary chirruped
blithely in his gilded cage, while the
trailing vines that festooned the re-
cesses of every window turned each
delicate tendril to the warm sunlight,
as if thankful for the warmth and CON-
tort and hallowed glow that filled that
pleasant room.
Mr.. Shelton finished his breakfast
and took up his morning paper. Mrs.
Shelton. a pale little woman, whose
chief beauty lay in her eyes, which
were so blue and trustful one could
not help loving their owner, watched
his moody face uneasily. Her smooth
purplish black hair was coiled up in
loose double twist, with here and
there tiny curl peeping out, giving
her a girlish look that Mark had often
admired. Her morning dress of navy
blue cashmere, with snowy lace at the
throat and wrists, was simply elegance
itself !; and better than all was the
work Of the slim fingers that were ner
vously twirling the silver teaspoon in
her dainty coffee cup.
But Mark was too much engrossed
in his own moody thoughts to find
any interest," in wife or paper, for, after
a vain attempt at reading, he laid the
latter down and sat silently staring in
to the fire.
"Mark,' burst out his wife, who felt
as if she were under the influence of a
nightmare, "what on earth is the mat
ter with you
And Mark answered her with that
sensible masculine, evasion, "Noth-
Ing
81 know there is something wrong
somewhere" went on Mrs. Shelton,
desperately. care you angry with
me, Mark ?"
"No, Alice, I'm not angry with
YOU"
"Then tell me your trouble, I never
saw you so depressed before, and we
have been married five years to-day,
Mark"
"Bless me So we have |! ! had en-
tirely forgotten it." Mr.. Shelton
looked up for the first time, and glanc
ed across the table at the little woman
in blue, whose cheeks had lost the
peachy bloom they had worn that day
five years ago. But the dear face was
as fresh as ever in his partial eyes, and
his heart ached more for her than for
himself, for he knew she would suffer
keenly in the crisis he was dreadiug
so much. 'It the children had been
spared to u.s." he said, mentally, think
ing of the two little graves in Green
wood, "they would have been COM
tort to her. But he kept his
thoughts to himself, and said instead:
evil you attend Mrs. Austin's par
ty, Alice 2"
"On the Goth? Yes" The uneasy
light left Alice Shelton's loving eyes,
for since he was not angry with her
she did not care to pry into his Sc
crets. And yet, if he only would con-
fde in her, she would feel so relieved