The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1882-12-30

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lieved this man the truest on earth.
"Well, there was a consideration, OF
course, Aunt Alice said Mark softly,
himself very pale now.
GA valuable one, persisted the old lady
''I demand to know what it was
"But-but, Aunt Alice, said the young
man, just beginning to realize the actual
horror of his position, suppose L do not
wish you to knowY'
"Then I will believe you have lied, .
said Mrs. Croxton, with stamp; ''and
this girl goes to prison, and I will see her
punished for the theft if l have to appear
in the witness-box myself Now tell me,
nephew, what you gave her that large sum
of money for?''
She waited, looking on him with white
and fiery stare-resolute and implaeable.
I think she believed he had lied, and for
that moment hated him, recalling his long
years of hypocrisy.
He was sorely distressed, and had not
vet disengaged himself from the embrace
of the bewildered and terrified creature
who had caused all this mischief but now
he seated her gently in chair, and stood
erect and proudly, facing his aunt.
II have told you the truth, Aunt Alice,
he said, ever SO gently, and yet with such
manly resentment of her humiliating impu-
tation 'That money was the price of
compromising letter she held
"Ho!" cried the old lady, seeing, all of
sudden, all that had passed in quite an
other light, and one certainly not more
favorable to Mark, "a letter."
I suppose they both forgot where they
were, and by whom they were surrounded.
Cora also was oblivious, and stood, fright
ened and confused, with one hand on Mrs.
Croxton's thin shoulder.
The crowd about them was of course,
profoundly interested; but in a still and
well-bred way, and, except the principals
in this scene, scarcely anyone breathed.
"You will let me see and read the letter,
perhaps" said Aunt Alice, dryly.
"Don't ask that, aunt beseech you y
pleaded the unhappy young man. "For
your own peace and happiness, L implore
you!"
Her respiration became hurried and dffii-
cult, and she seemed almost on the point
of fainting.
"Don't trihe with me, Mark Croxton.
am an old woman, not able to bear much,
and what I have always thought of you,
you know, and you will show me the letter,
nephew [ command you to let me see
To comply, or to refuse, severe, per
haps a fatal blow either way. Mark would
have given many years of his life to have
spared the aunt he loved, and who had so
long and tenderly loved and believed in
him. But now there was no longer room
for delay or escape, and with deep sigh,
he handed Mrs. Croxton the letter.
I doubt if she cared now what the peo-
pie around her thought of the strange scene
in progress before them. Through her
glasses she deliberately read the letter from
beginning to end, and then, with her thin
lips curled into an expression of intense
disdain, quietly handed the paper back.
"And you get that kind of letter while
engaged to Cora, here? [ don't wonder
that it cost something handsome to buy it
back. You are villain"
Great heaven he saw the truth; she did
not suspect the real author-her own son !
Poor Mark was sorely tried. He glanc-
ed toward Cora, and she met his look with
a piteous gaze-a despairing entreaty for
explanation, light, truth.
He saw that her trust was still unbroken
"a single word would confirm it forever.
What could he do? Should he speak =? He
had never dreamed how much he loved her
until now.
But his aunt-poor Aunt Alice-always
so kind to him, and who had endured SO
much! He alone besides herself could
measure what she had suffered at the hands
of her cruel and ungrateful son, and how
much of her love and very life were bound
up there.
A bad fellow he had been, but she had
no idea how bad, and this letter, if Mark
spoke but word, would reveal the depths
of his cousins infamy, and pierce her with
cred heart through and through.
"Well, sir ?" she said, with white lips.
He spared her, and was silent. 1t was
martyrdom.
She struggled for minute before she
could speak, and then, in whisper with a
kind of pant, she said:
II am done with you, sir"
With fixed stare, lasting for second
or two, of bitter anger and contempt, she
turned her back upon him, and, taking
Cora's arm, went over to the musicians and
engaged in conversation with them, though
I do not think she knew one word of what
she or they were saying.
Mark bowed gently and withdrew-stun-
ned, though he smiled round him as he
went out, seeing the circle of curious faces
through mist.
After a while he took his simple luggage
and left the house, making very quiet
exit by the rear, where he encountered
no one but Tom Willis.
From him he learned that the party was
rapidly breaking up. Mrs. Croxton had
been taken with some sort of ft-nothing
serious, "one O them faintin' spells and
the strange woman who was found in the
grounds had been dispatched from the
premises in the same unconscious state, one
of the ladies having offered the use of her
carriage to bear the poor creature to the
village.
Miss Cora was crying, and everything
was in confusion, and altogether honest
Tom never remembered such disastrous
New Years party in all his born days.
Mark shook his hand and bade-him
goodnight and took roundabout course
for the railway.
Next day, fifty miles away, in the mourn
full solitude of his hotel, with heavy
heart, he sat at his travelling desk and wrote
Cora letter and told her everything, with
strict injunctions not to breathe a syllable
to his aunt.
A few more days elapsed and his letter
was returned to him-unopened
He was frightened in spite of himself.
How could he ever make the truth clear
To lose Cora