The Vermont transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1864-1870, 1867-02-22

II think have lost my way, MIS-.
Jessup," said the bcwidered little
creature. "Would you let me come in
and rest for awhile p
"And welcome, pretty" said the old
woman, cordially; for Mrs. Tresley had
done her many kind decd chat is
if you don mind little upside-down-
ishness, for Luke's folks is all packed
/ up to start for Australia to-morry
mornin', and | was ies: gitun together
Il little cracklin' to boil the last tea
kettle.
Amabel sat down before the FIRE on
the rude wooden block that served for
IA chair, mechanically warming her
hands
Am near Burghford, Mrs. Jess
upf'
"Burglford, pretty? No, that you
amt Cheimburg Is nearer by good
half mile-just across the woods and
Yes, l know DO the cars stop
there?'
"les, honey. Here nov drink this
cup O. tea, and cat bit o mush, Just
80 put color into your cheek. Tnero,
Inn sure it'll strengthen you up bit!
Mrs Jessup,' SAID Amabel, looking
up with wild, wishiul eyes, what do
people do when they want to earn
then own liying?'
"WeA, to 10 surew calculated the
old woman "Why honey, they goes
out 30 service sometimes
And what else
"Weil, they works in factory some
times, and sometimes the book-learned
One teaches schools; and sometimes
they take IN SEWN.
Amabel amused deeply rs she play
ed with Mrs Jessups German Silver
teaspoon. The old woman looked
on with "a face Of curiosity.
do you know what time the cars
stop at Chelmburg, Mrs. Jessup?'
Some time after Sis, dear; but
"Wait till Luke comes back, honey,
coaxed the Old woman, and he'll 80
with YOU
Atnabel Tresley shook her head
resolutely
80, | must 90 alone. You have
been very Kind to me, Mrs. Je,sup; ]
hive no money to give you, nor even
a ring, bat THIS handkerchief is very
valuable; please keep it for my
sake
And before Goody Jessup could
open her mouth to demonstrate Mrs.
Ire,ley was gone leaving the India
handkerchief lying like snowy cob
web en- the old womaus horny palm.
And SO, months aiterward, when
news came thar the stately Australian
ship was wrecked oil cruel coast,
, and not a pas sengor saved alive, the
cobweb handkerchief floating to the
( shore formed a CHASTITY link between
the dead and the living.
Dotec i've Barnum brought it tC
Maurice Iresley one n gbt, silent ano
sef-possessod as ever
"trom the wreck Of the Cytherea
sir
Maurice stared at the delicate en-
broidery, with Anabel Treseys nam,
, in the wrought shield as if he haC
seen a ghost.
"The Cytherea Good God! an.
there was not Il soul saved ~
"No, sir"
But the list OF passcngers--?'
Her name was not there, sir. But
of course, she would change it if SD,
desired 10 avoid notice or recognition
: | think sir, that handkerchief IS evi
dence enough.
From that night Maurice wore
/, Grape on his hat, and genuine mourn
ing in his heart for the child-wif'
whom he had lost Whatever re
morse gnawed at his yitals he kept tC
himself The brief chapter of Amabel'
: life was finished and her HUSBAND
: closed the pages of the sorrowiul past
Ten years have passed by-ten long
eyentful years-ere we again take u
the thread Of our story
The young moon was just begin
ming to elimmer through the purple
blue sky of the midsummer twilight
and the spice-hearted honey-suckle'
filled the atmosphere with suddei
ripping currents of fragrance a
Maurice Tresley and Sidney Wllfor1
paced up and down the marble paved
terrace their twin cigars cleaning
through the dusk like SO many spot
8 OF fire.
80 You like Mrs. Cameron 2 salt
the latter inditlerently.
"She is the most beautiful woman
, ever looked upon returned Tresley
stopping short III his enthusiasm, -
Like the grand old European pic
lures Of the Madonna. with her haze
brown eyes, and the auburn hair knot
ted low IN her neck. Milford, yol
know the sad history Of my first mar
. riage; my second, l trust, will brlnI
= the happiness l have SO long sighe'
after III VAN.
Sand are you determined to MARI.
= my aunt's nursery goyerness p
: If she will trust the precious jewe
Of her life to my care.
. "Why, Tresley, | think the brown
eyed widow has fairly bewitched you
Il You, the lofty aristocrat-The passion
= less statue OF ice-you finally, to sue
o cumb to the pale face and solemn
81 eyes of nursery governess y ex
claimed MILFORD, in genuine astonish