The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1888-03-01

Melville Austin had suddenly en-
tered the apartment. Glancing al
The ashen-pale connteuauce of Dora
a look OF amazement overspread his
owp. Then. turning towards the
stranger, who stood beside tbechair
in which she Was seated, Mr.. Austin
said;
1t strikes me that / heard your
voice, raised in rather disrespect.
fully loud tone as / stood in the hall
a moment ago. Were you address,
ing this lady, sir. Dora, who in this
person.
A slight tremor shook Dora AUS
tins frame and her gbas,ly lips quiv-
cred an Instant. But only for an
instant. She had risen now aud was
addressing Melville who listened 81
leutly until she bad ceased speaking,
stupefed, doubtless, by the dreadful
import of what she uttered.
THAT man, Melville, is my husband
Five years ago, before You and bad
ever met, poverty hnd reduced my
mother and myself to the last stages
of want. On my mothers death. aud
while | was still almost child in
years, Mark Dillon asked me TO be-
come his wife. We were married,
and l soon discovered that my
wretched. friepdless position bad
been exchanged for still greater
misery, had become united to man
from whose vile, wicked life my
whole nature turned in loathing
One evening in fit of drunken fury
he struck me. That night | fled
from bis house. During the year
that followed L succeeded in cup
porting myself comfortably on the
proceeds Of needlework. Two months
before chance had made me acquaiDt-
cd With you, Melville, had learned
accidentally of my husbands death
in France. You know what follow
cd. To-day l learn, for the first
time since our marriage, that Mark
Dillon lives.
% God can this he trne"
The words seemed wrung from the
very depth Of Melville Austin's agon-
lied soul. Staring first at his wife,
and then at the moody, crestfallen
man beside her, his face expressed
the keenest intensity of mental suf-
fering And now the icy calmness
18th which Dora had spoken melted
to passion of sobs.
Stealing towards her husbands
side, she murmnred brokenly: 'Be~
fore we part, Melville, say that you
forgive me for being the cause of SC
much future wretchedness-ofoi
having brought to your noble heart
a sorrow it has so little deserved
Part, Dora We must motive
shall not part +!
lie had drawn her to his breast
with a wild, impulsive movement
At the same instant the door Of th,
studio was suddenly enclosed aud ,
womans voice cried out 10 clear
ringing tones: Mark Dillon lies
Mrs. Austin, when he dares TO cal
himself your husband |! I-wroDgeC
outraged, deserted as ] have been
am none the less bis lawfully weddeC
wife, married to him seven years ag'
in Manchester. Let him deny it !
he dares. You need not scowl ant
glare at me- the woman went oi
hotly, "what speak is the truth, an'
I do not fear to utterit.'
A low cry of rage escaped Dillon
lips as he spraug towards the woman
who had spoken. But with blow o
iron Melville Anstin's hand hurleS
him back ward. For moment th'
william stnrad nt HIS wifa's prOtectO
with Il tigerish flerceness In his dark
, dangerous eyes, and then, like tin
coward he really was, skunk from thu
apartment.
And from the house, too, never en-
tering it again. An hour afterward
his wife, Ellen Dillon, followed him
against the earnest entreaty of Mel
vile and Dora.
He will beat me when return t.
him, perhaps, she said, with mourn
ful smile on her exquisite face, "but
must go, nevertheless. 1t seems lik'
a curse sometimes that in spite of hi
brutality and wickedness | canno
hate Mark. But whenever think o
our child at home l believe this weak
ness Is all for the best. can guar,
him against initiating his father; ant
who knows what sons iDfuene,
may do in future years p
Her sad words left Dora and Mel
Vile grave and thoughtful for u Ions