Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1867-06-08

J
, the bed, but dii not Immediately Y get
t in; she stopped and lifted the curtains
! which hung around the bottom and eau
tiously passed herarm under and around
t as far as it could reach. | almost fel.
her fingers Craze my face as held my
sci feartully aud silently back against
) the wall, too far, just too far for her
reach. Apparently satisfied that no
danger was near her, she lay down in
!, the bed again and | counted her respi-
ratons till she was lost in slumber.
AS for myself, sleep was utterly out
of the question. | never was SO wide
awake in my life. How l lay upon
that hard carpet and thought the night
out thought of her, and her love for
me; thought of myself and my love for
her Yes. | was convinced from that
MON MT that the hand of destiny was in
it, and that benign and all wise Prov.
idence had seen fit in this extraordinary
way to open my eyes to the path of
happiness and peace.
With the morning light fresh fears
came upon me lest my unconscious
room mate might yet peer beneath the
bed for robbers before she left the room;
but my fears were groundless. She rose
and dressed expeditiouslv, for she was
to join her cousins at an early breakfast
and she had oversight herself When
at last she took the key, unlocked the
door, aud departed, l lost no time in
slipping out of my shameful place of
concealment and escaping from the ho-
tel. On the stairs | met Fred coming
out of his room, who exclaimed
why, what's the matter with you,
old fellow You look like the last days
of an ill-speut life. And your coat, too
why, it's all over feathers and dust
Where haze you been 2
why, | slept-slept out last night !;
that's all. Our house is full, and SO |
had to find quarters elsewhere. I'm
just going home to dress
i should say SO, decidedly. l see it
all, old fellow You We been on lark,
and had to put up in the watch house
come now, own up and tell US all about
it,
NO lark at all, Fred nothing of the
KIND, | assure you
We'll, if not on lark what kind of
bird was it ? From the looks of the
feathers should say it was a goose !"
You're the goose, Fred. But, Sc
riously, I've word to say to you of
most important nature. Be man,
Fred. and make up your mind to hear
something excessively disaereeable. 1t
must be told you sooner or later, and |
may as well tel it now
Good Heavens, Gus low earnest
you look at me; you dout mean to say
that-that any thing has happened to
Belle Bronson ?
Don mention her name again, Fred,
or think Of her any more, for she'll
never be any thing to you have it
from one who knows all about it, that
she has long been attached to somebody
else, and that somebody else means to
marry her There's 10 mistake about
1t; SO bear up and try your luck else:
where
But Fred Evans was not to be dis
couraged by mere hearsay That very
day he went to see Belle, determined to
know his fate from her own lips Soon
after he left Oakville and | did not see
him again for several years, when,
meeting him in town one day, | insisted
on bringing him home with NE and
presenting him to his old fame, Belle
ronson-the present Mrs. Evergreen.
'Ah, Gus" said he. after dinner,
when my wife and the little Evergreens
had left US to ourselves-'Ah, Gus, you
served me a shabby trick when you al
lowed me to lose my heart tor the girl
you were all along intending to marry
yourself-a very shabby trick, one of
which never suspected you!'
So | had to tell him in strict conf
dence, of course, as tell you reader)
all about the bedroom affair at the Oak
vile Hotel, and the love that grew out
oft