People's Pilot, Volume 6, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 July 1896 — Page 2

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But that simple question awoke Dolly instantly from her happy dream, and recalled her to stern reality. What could he say or do? She uttered a little cry of distress, and drew herself from May’s clasping arms. “I—l—forgive me!” she faltered, timidly. “I have done wrong, again I fear. You are so kind—so good. I could not choose but be attracted toward you. I have so few friends; but you are a stranger to me, and—and —do not think me ungrateful for your kind sympathy. God knows how sweet it is to me. But you must not ask —I must not speak of—that!” “He has forbidden you?” May cried, makin g one bold dash into the truth. “You are not to talk about your marriage.” She had drawn a little away from Dolly now, and stood looking at her earnestly. The poor girl, had risen, too, and half leaned against the chair, trembling, and with wet eyes cast down. “You are called Mrs. Vernon, and you wear a wedding-ring,” May went on firmly, but gently. “You will not withold the words that concern your own good name. I ask one question: Are you Cyril Vernon’s wife?” Still no answer. Had he not said that to have his marriage known just now would be his ruin? And should she do aught to injure him—she, his wife? She looked around her almost wildly, and cast one pitiful, pleading glance on May, but kept her pale lips closed. “I will explain why I urge you to tell me the truth,” May went on, still more gently. “It will grieve you, I fear, but I am sure you ought to know. Cyril Vernon is regarded by all his friends as a single man. Morever, it is believed that he is on the eve of marriage with a wealthy heiress.” She stopped, interrupted by a sharp agonized cry: “Not true! Not true! He would not —could not—no, no it is impossible!” “Impossible? Alas! poor child, you little guess what villainies are possible to men!” She hesitated a moment then took the little trembling hands within her own again, closely, tenderly. “Dear child, confide in me; I am yo u r friend. I will help you dear Dolly, right you if you are wronged; only tell me the truth! Then she told her of Frank and her father, and their patient, loving search for her. tf And if you will be advised by me, you will place yourself at once in your father’s care, until such time as your marriage can be proved, and your husband acknowledges you openly. Dolly shrank from that. To meet the father and lover whom she had wronged was a bitter ordeal. “I will promise for Frank that he will not Some n6ai* you,” said May. “It may be better so, for Cyril’s sake, perhaps. Your father will not utter one reproach; he is greatly broken by his sorrow, Dolly, and longs to see his child. In his protection no scandal can assail you, and Cyril’s love will revive as soon as he thinks you are likely to assail yourself. He has been too sure of you hitherto, and has been ill-advised, I am sure, and led into a wrong course altogether. He is not bad at heart, and I believe that, if you suffer yourself to be. guided and protected by your truest friends, you may reclaim him yet, and win back his heart again. For his sake and your child’s will you not come?” Rose added her entreaties to May’s. “Oh, Miss Dolly, dear, you took your affairs into your own hands once,” cried she, “and see the trouble that came of it. Do be advised by this good lady now. I don’t know who she is, I’m sure,” added Rose with a respectable courtesy and an inquisitive glance; “but I’m sure she’s advising you wisely.” Dolly gave a little startled cry. “Why, how strange!” she exclaimed. “You have never told me your name, nor have I thought of asking it. Pray tell me now. bimple and natural as this question was, it took May com pletely by surprise. In the excitement and agitation of the interview, the omission of which Dolly spbke of had escaped . her notice too. had had no intention of concealing her ideqty or name at the outset—in fact she had meaii>.to introduce herself to Dolly at once—but the intehyiew had taken such an un-looked for form, thei'r,>hearts had spoken so openly and im.pulsively thr all outward form of propriety and politeness had been for the moment forgotten. And now ehb' began to question, suddenly, WpttM i/ lie well that Dolly should learn her She has heard the story of the fortune, now; she will see in me perhaps less her own friend than thh. woman whom her husband is expected to marry. Being infatuated with Cyril herself, suspect a little weakness in me, perhapsTmay rouse her jealousy, lose her confidence, ruin every chance of success. I will not tell her ” Alas, how blind we are! How often does one slip—one small false step—precipate us from"tKe of success to which we have climbed slowly and toilsomely, into the abyss of failure aqd despair? How quickly will one error of judgment—one mistake—deprives us of the fruitof all the’wisdom and thoughtful study that has gone before?

THE PEOPLE’S PILOT, RENSSELAER, IND., THURSDAY. JULY 2, 1896.

Hitherto May had acted wisely and well, now she fell into a grave error. In qther wprds hitherto she had been perfectly candid, honest and true but now she descended to reticence and concealment, if not deceit. “You will let me know the name of one who has been so kind to me?” repeated Dolly, wondering at her hesitation. “Surely lam not indiscreet in asking that?” “Indiscreet!” said May smiling but emharassed, “Not in the least. You have an undoubted right to ask my name, and if you do so I must answer. Yet I wish you would be content today, to know me simply as yotft sincere friend, and wait to learn my name until your father introduces us to-morrow. Can you trust me so far Dolly?” Dolly’s blue eyes expressed her innocent surprise, quite unalloyed by any suspicion or misgiving. Rose was less confiding, a dissatisfied expression crept into her face, and she silently shook her head. In the next room the secret listener smiled, well pleased and rubbed his hands gleefully. “Good!” he muttered under his breath. “Good! you have made your one false step, my Lady May, and given me a loophole to escape by. All’s not lost yet after all.” “It is a small favor indeed,” said Dolly. “I will not trouble you with a question. You shall tell me when it suits yourself. But you said tomorrow: do you wish me to see my father at once then?”

“I want you to consent to my sending him to you immediately—before your husband can return. Dear Dolly, what good would a painful scene of recrimination aud reproach between you and Cyril do! Write him a few lines and leave them here; give him your father’s address; tell him that you are ready to return to him the instant he acknowledges your marriage; but, for Heaven’s sake, leave this place! By remaining you expose Cyril to temptation, too. He may remove you beyond the reach of friends. How then will you vindicate yourself? your child? I do not ask you to trust me but your own father. See him, confide in him, and unless he advises you differently, leave this place this very night. If you consent I will go to him immediately. and within three hours’ time he will be with you.”

And Dolly did consent. How could she bear to meet Cy ril after what she had learned? She was sure that he had wearied of her, that his love was dead. Her instinct was that of some If not for your own sake the n for one dearer, holier, more sacred, far.” She drew her close to her breast and whispered seven words in her ear; “For the sake of your unborn child?” At these words, all Dolly’s firm resolve gave way, and the mother woke within her heart, mightier for the moment than all other love or fear. “I am his wife! lam his wife!” she cried and threw her arms around May’s neck and sobbed upon her bosom. Sobbed forth all her sorrowful little story—the story of her love and marriage, of her disobedience and deceit, and flight; of her briei time of bliss and joy; of all her present sorrow. May soothed her tenderly. “I believe you are his own true wife, indeed!” she said. Dolly lifted her head and looked surprised at that. She had not supposed that any one would question the marriage itself. She thought the only doubt had been whether there was a marriage. Secure in her own Innocence and honesty, she looked into May’s face and smiled. “There certainly can be no doubt of that,” she said. “You shall see the proofs of it if you choose.” And then Rose was called, and instructed to bring down stairs the little satchel that Dolly had brought with her from home. “And it has never been touched or opened from that day to this,” she said, smiling sadly. “Cyril tied a string around it because the catch had broken, and flung it up on a high shelf of the closet in my bedroom. It fell at the very back of the shelf, quite out of reach, and has lain there ever since. Rose will need a ladder to reach it, I fancy.” Whether with the assistance of a ladder or not I cannot sav, but, certainly. Rose managed to reach the satchel, and quickly returned with it to her mistress. It was tied, as Dolly had said. Tied with a strong cord, too, and knotted tediously. Dolly smiled at the hard knots. Had she been alone she would probably have kissed them, for the sake of the hand that had tied them. “It contains his letters to me,” she exclaimed, “as well as the certificate of our marriage. He knew.how much I prized them, and was resolved that they should be safe. Dear Frank!” But by this time May was growing uneasy. She had been absent long; what if Cyril should tire of waiting, and come home? “It will take too long to untie the knots,” she said. “Let us cut them, I’m in haste.” It was done accordingly, and the satchel lay open before them. Dolly eagerly thrust in her little hand. She withdrew it quickly. , ' > .! ■ •

“Why what’s this?” she faltered turning pale. ‘ ‘Where—wpere?” Next instant, with a sudden -impulse she turned the satchel contents out upon the table; a quanity of trinkets and trifles—all mixed in confusion together—fell out but nothing more. The letters and marriage certificate had dissappeared. Dolly uttered one heart-piercing cry. She put up her hands to her temples, pushing her bright hair away, and stood for a minute like one turned to stone. May came forward, pityingly, and put her arms around her. She started at the touch, looked wildly into May’s face, shrank, trembled suddenly, then burst into passionate weeping. “Robbed! Robbed of what I prized so dearly, by him whom I trusted most! By my own husband! Oh, God! can the man I love be so base? Is my idol such wretched clay?* He knew that when I should discover this it would kill me! He has grown weary of me and desired my death! Let me die! Oh, merciful Heaven, let me die!” It was long ere May could calm her, or win her from sorrowing over the worthlessness of the man she loved to a contemplation of her own personal wrongs'. “What do I care for myself?” she cried passionately. “What am I worth when he no longer loves me? I gave myself to him; I can die for him, if I may not live for him; but to find him so base, a coward who stabs in the dark—a thief! Oh, for death!” She wanted no revenge on him, she did not want him punished; her love for him was quite independent of his for him, and wholly unaffected by his cruelty. Hers was that fine and rare fidelity in dogs and women—a faith his falsehood had no power to destroy—a love that knew no ending save in death! : Yet, when May spoke once more the potent spell that bad first unsealed her lips, she yielded to its power immediately. “My child—his child—you are right. I must take some action. Let him sin against me as he will, I could pardon that; but not against the child.” A long and earnest consultation followed, to which Rose was also admitted. Frea Hastings had been a third at the interview from the first having stolen down-stairs softly, and concealed himself in the next room, where he was able to hear everything; but of course no one suspected ‘this. May told Dolly the story of the Huntsford fortune, thus revealing to her how great her husband’s temptation had been. “And he has forfeited it. I have been his ruin!” cried the poor child in dismay. May reassured, her. “On the contrary, if all goes well, you will be the means of saving him. If Cyril forfeits the fortune to Miss Ellis, he forfeits it altogether. At her death it goes—passing Cyril by—to the next nearest heir, your child, dear Dolly. poor, dumb, wounded thing that steals away to hide its pain in secret. Perhaps, when he found he had lost her, he would grieve and call her. back again. In the anguish of her slighted love and trust betrayed, the image of her father. forgiving her, cherishing her, longing to take her to his heart again, offered her some gleam of help and comfort. But for this, and another hope that the not-far distant future was to realize, the pain of doubting Cyril’s truth and being parted from him would have been to great for Dolly’s heart to bear. “I will do what papa advises,” she said, weeping. “God knows I am punished now for my disobedience to him. Cyril said he would not be home until late; alas! he seldom is. Send papa to me and I will tell him all. It was in May’s mind to ask her to accompany her to her father there and-then. But the thought of the delay, the risk of meeting Cyril at the house made her reject this plan. “The other is the best,” she decided. Poor May! And in so deciding made her false move number two. The two women kissed at parting, and May urged Dolly to be prepared to part that evening. The young, wife put her arms around May’s neck. “You have been very kind,” she said. “Some day, if ever my sorrows end, I hope to show my gratitude. “I wish you could always be what you bid me call you just now—my friend; I need such a friend. Say something kind to Frank for me—poor Frank! I am not worth his grieving for. Good-bye! Good bye.” And so they parted. The carriage drove awtty, Dolly watching it sadly from the door. Slowly, listlessly, and with a heavy heart, she returned to the parlor, and uttered a loud cry of astonishment and terror on finding Fred Hastings there. That cry brought Rose back; she had just been descending to the kitchen.' “You!” she cried, bluntly, staring at Fred. “Where did you come from?” . He smiled coolly. He was very quiet and pale. “I came out of the next room,” he said calmly. “Luckily for you, Cousin Dolly, I have been there all the time and overheard all your conversation. A nice little plot Miss Ellis has laid.

A 9ice little trap you Were going to walk quietly Dolly had stood staring at him, silent and pale. Her face flushed suddenly now, and her eyes sparkled. “Miss Ellis?” she cried, eagerly; “Miss Ellis?” She and no other! Your visitor would not tell you her name, I think. No wonder! But I will. That was May Ellis, you poor, innocent little baby! Your rival, who has plotted to get you out of the way in order that she may marry your husband.”

CHAPTER XXV. CAUGHT IN THE TOILS. “And so,” continued Fred Hastings, seating himself deliberately and crossing his legs easily, while he gazed with a cool smile into Dolly’s white and horror-stricken face, “and so. Cousin Dolly, you owe me a debt of gratitude this time, if you never did before! If I hadn’t come in just when I did, and recognized your visitor and suspected her plot, what do you imagine would have been the end of it?” Dolly did not answer him. Her blue eyes dilated and grew dark with fear, and her bosom heaved convulsively, but she spoke no word. “I’ll tell you,” Fred went on, glibly: “tor how should you guess the designs of a woman like May Ellis—(innocent little baby as you are? Instead of your father seeking you, as you’ve been led to expect, a messenger will come to lead you to him. He is sick, you will be informed—unable to come to you; he is anxiously expecting his child. Of course you will go, and, after that, who do you suppose will ever hear of you again, Cousin Dolly?” Still no word: only she sank, as if quite overcome, into a chair, and preyed her hands upon her fluttering heart. “Then May Ellis will say to your husband—whom she loves: ‘The pretty bird you kept so close and prized so dearly has flqwn away - from you.’ And though he will not believe it at first, Dolly, for I think he has more faith in your truth than you have placedin his. after a time, when he fails to find you, he will. And after a little more time, While May keeps you closely hidden away, there will be a divorce, and Cyril will marry your rival!” There was a little, grasping cry of horror, and Rose flew to her mistress’ side. “Stop, Mr. Hastings! oh, stop!” she cried. “It is too much for her. The child can’t bear it. ” To Be Continued.

PEOPLE‘S PARTY PLATFORM.

FOUNDATION PRINCIPLES. , First—That union of the labor forces of the United States this day consummated shall be permanent and perpetual; nay its spirit enter all hearts for the salvation of the republic and the upliftings of mankind. Second —Wealth belongs to him who creates it, and every dollar taken from industry without an equivalent is robbery. “If any will not work, neither shall he eat.” The interests of rural and civic labor are the same; their intesests are identical. Third—We believe that the time has come when the railroad corporations will either own the people or the people must own the railroads, and should the government enter upon the work of owning or managing any or all of the railroads, we should favor an amendment to the constitution by which all persons engaged in the government service shall be placed under a civil service regulation of the most rigid character, as to prevent the increase of the power of the national administration by the use of such additional government employes. FINANCE. First—We demand a national currency, safe sound and flexible, issued by the general government only, a full legal tender for all debts public and private, and that without the use of banking corporations, a just equitable and efficient means of distribution direct to the people at a tax not to exceed 2 per cent, per annum to be provided as set forth in the subtreasury plan of the Farmers’ Alliance or a better system; also by payments in discharge of its obligations for public improvements. We demand free and unlimited coinage of silver and gold at the present legal ratio of 16 to 1. We demand that the amount of circulating medium be speedily increased to not less than SSO per capita. • ' We demand a graduatad income tax. We believe that the money of the country should be kept as much as possible in the hands of the people, and hence we demand that all state and national revenues shall be limited to the necessary expenses of the government economically and houestly administered We demand that the postal savings bank be established by the government for the safe deposit of the earnings of the people and to facilitate exchange. TRANSPORTATION. Second—Transportation being a means of exchange and a public necessity, the government should own and operate the railroads in the interest of the people. Third —The land, including all the material rescources of wealth, is the heritage of the people, and should not be monopolized for speculative purposes, and alien ownership of land should be prohibited. And lands now held by railroads and other corporations in excess of their actual needs and all lands now owned by aliens should be reclaimed by the government for actual settlers only.

Convert The- Germans. The National Reformer 8 page Edition, per year $2.00 4 page Edition, per year SI.OO It is the only German People’s Party paper of national circulation, and (with one exception) the oldest paper advocating the principles of the party in the country. It has been issued since - 1880 and Robert Schilling is its editor. CAMPAIGN RATES. Two months for ten cents. Twenty cents for three months and a copy of Robert Schilling’s book entitled “GELD” (Money) which is considered standard authority on ths money question, and one of the best vote makers ever printed. Address NATIONAL REFORMER, Milwaukee, Wis. ii