Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1868-08-08

1t was almost dark when Mauric,
Tresley came out of his library, to lool
for the little wife who delighted to tri,
on all his errands.
fAmabel-Amy!
But there was no response. Mauric,
looked impatiently round.
Stephenson he said to smart mait
who was replenishing the fire with coal
go up to Mrs. Tresley's room and tel
her that Mr.. Rayner will stay to tea.
sYes, SIR lH
| Half minute later Stephenson came
back. se4 ..aga-f 3
sShe is not there, SIR U a
L Not there p q te3e;,s
mo, sir, and Mary Anne says she
saw Mrs. Tresley go out, all wrapped
!. up, two hours ago.
did she drive the gray ponies 2
mo, sir, she went on foot. And
please, sir, here's a bit of paper found
on her dressing case, with your name
on the outside
Tresley opened the note with con.
tracted brow, inwardly vexed at Amabel
that she should not have consulted him
regarding her outgoings and incomings.
But there was something in the penciled
lines that blanched bis check:
Il know that you are weary of me
bad l known it before, you would SOON
er have been relieved of my presence.
Forget me-and try to return to the
old time before you ever saw
81, a. AMABEL.'
That was all. Maurice Tresley smiled
bitterly to himself.
"A mere childish pet he murmured
'She will be back, half frightened out Of
her senses, as soon as it grows dark.
1t is unfortunate, however, that she
should have overheard that unlucky
conversational
But Amahel did not return-she
never returned
dts no use, sir said the grayhaired
emissary Of the police, shaking the snow
from his great coat we have enquired
everywhere, but the clue fails US ct the
boat landing. Up to that spot she was
seen-tracked; but there We are at a
| loss. -
She must have taken the boat at
Grenoble, exclaimed Maurice, eagerly.
She did not, sir; we have means Of
knowing every passenger that came off
at Grenoble.'
Then where can she be 2 s~,es III
That is the question. 1t is now
three weeks since she disappeared; we
have set agents to work wherever there
was the slightest possibility of her tax
ing refuge, and still there is no key to
the mystery. Excuse me, sir, but was
Mrs. Tresley easy in her mind-tran-
quill and collected, l mean, when she
left the house 2
No, l hardly think she was
The gray haired man put the tips of
his fingers collectively together.
Did you ever think there might be a
remote possibility of suicide p
Maurice Tresley WINGED at the awful
possibility 50 coolly touched upon by
the matter of fact detective; aud when
the door closed behind bis horrible
equanimity, Tresley sank on a chair
With his face buried in his hands.
'My wife-my little soft eyed Amy {!
have been cruel, barsh-I deserve no
better than that Heaven should deal
with me as / dealt with the lonely or
phan. Oh, my lost wife art thou safe
IN Heaven, or wandering homeless on
the face of the earth p
But there came no answer to his
pleading cry.
When the child Amabel had left her
husbands roof she had directed her
footsteps to the high road that led to
the steamboat landing, but she was just
too late; the boat had gone
where shall l 90 now p she asked
herself, trying in vain to command her
thoughts. Perhaps l can walk to
BuIghford, and then take the cars for
New York
Poor Amabel. She soon realized the
wide difference there was between
driving over the road with her pet gray
ponies and plodding its weary length
on foot. 1t was growing dark-her
head ached violently, aud finally she
paused abruptly.
'Bless your dear heart, Mrs. Tresley,
what are you doing here p
An old woman with bundle of
sticks on her arms had risen, it seemed
to Auy, out of the very ground.
4 think l have lost my way, Mrs.
Jessup,' said the bewildered little crea-
ture. Would you let me come in and
rest for awhile 2
'Aud welcome, pretty said the old
woman cordially; for Mrs, Tresley had
done her many a kind deed. That is
if you don't mind little upside-down-
ishness, for Luke's folks is all packed
up ready for start for Australia to-
morrow morning, and I was jest getting
together little cracking to boil the
last tea kittle.'
Amabel sat down before the FIRE on
the rude wooden block that served for
q chair, mechanically warming her
hands.
Am I near Burghford, Mrs Jessup?'
sBurghford, pretty No. that you
amt. Chelmburg is nearer by good
half mile just across the woods and
Yes, I know. Do, the cars stop
there7
yes, honey. Here nov-drink this
r L r