Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1878-03-13
WOODSTOCK, W., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 10, 1878.

She sank back into an arm chal
now, with weary, gasping sigh
~ haven't come to do anything 0
the sort, Dora Dillon" the man said
with a kind Of emphasis IN his grui
tones, II don't wish 10 claim you o.
my wife. You believed mo dead
three years ago, aud married Melville
Austin there's nothing particular.
culpable about your conduct ~ Tar al
can discover | shall DO the las
one, depend upon Il, my dear Mrs
Austin, 10 reveal anything disagree
bleconoerning your antecedents. "
"And why will you reveal nothing
Let there be no disguise between us
Mark Dillon, | know your brula
nature thoroughly, You came here
this morning to sell your silence, Il
IL not so I"
"You are perfectly right, Mrs, Aus
tin-or Mrs, Dilloni which rs to be b,
the way"
Ills tones were deiiantly supercil
ious, his keen, cruel eyes were fixed
upon tho agonizcd woman with some
thing Of u serpent's pililcss gaze when
the prey is within easy distance and
possession has become q certainty,
But Mark Dillon started back with
amazement, MS Dora answered him,
calmly scorniully aud decisively, in
the following words 81 shall not
deceive the man to whom l owe all
the happiness have ever enjoyed in
this world-thc man whom ] love,
honor, and reverence, as only nature
like Melville Austn's is worthy Of be.
ing regarded, When | married him,
Mark Dillon, acted upon my firm
conviction Of your death. Now !
know myself to have been in error,
and but a single course remains 10
me. The instant that Melville Austin
returns home | shall inform him OF the
TRUTH
"Are you mad, Dora Dillon" he
exclaimed, every trace of his supercil.
ious manner gone, and nothing but a
sort of furious surprise remaining.
"Are you mad, thus to throw away
the position you have won ito make
of yourself a begga.ly outcast ?-to-"
Enough OF this, Mark Dillon" she
interrupted. haughtlly. "Your game
was a bold one, but it has proved a
failure. All, my husband !"
Melville Austin had suddenly en-
tered the apartment. Glanc
ing at the ashen pale countenance Of
Dora, a look of amazement overspread
his own. Then, turning towards the
stranger who stood beside the chair in
which she was seated, Mr.. Austin
said: at strikes me that heard
your voice, raised in rather disre-
spectlul loud tone, as | stood in the
hall moment ago. Were you ad-
dressing this lady, sir ? Dora who is
this person p
A alight tremor shook Dora Aus
tins frame, and her ghastly lips quiv-
cred for an instant. But only for an
instant. She had risen now, and was
Melville, who listened 81
lently until she had ceased speaking.
doubtless, by the dreadful
import Of what she uttered:
That man, Melville, is my hus-
band. Five years ago, before you aud
had ever met, poverty had reduced
my mother and myself to the last
stages of want On my mothers
death, and while l was still almost a
child in years, Mark Dillon asked me
to become his wife. We were mar
ried, and soon discovered that my
triAndless position had been
exchanged for one OF greater misery.
had been united to man from
whose wicked life my nature turned
in loathlng. One evening, in tit OF
fury, he struck me. During
the year that followed, l succeeded in
myself comfortably on the
of needlework. Two months
before chance had made me acquaint-
ed with you, Melville, l had learned
accidentally Of my husbands death in
France. You know what followed.
To-day learn for the first time since
our marriage, that Mark Dillon lives.
''Oh, God, can this be truei"
The words seemed wrung from the
very depth OF Melville Austins agon-
zed soul. Staring first at bis wife,
and then at the moody, crest-fallen
nan beside her, his face expressed the
4eenest intensity of mental suffering.
A -. ,.,.sk ,uh,ph