Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1868-08-08
The Second Marriage.
BY AMY RANDOLPH.

She spoke the soft words twice be-
fore he heard her, with wistful eyes
turned timidly to his face, and then she
laid one hand lightly on his arm.
Maurice turned sharply, as if some sum
mer insect had stung him.
what is it 2
'May l have the little gray ponies
and ride out on the Templeton road p
Ride out? No-yes-I wish you
wouldn't tease me Amy!'
He spoke harshly, shaking off the
little hand as if its touch was unpleas-
ant to him; and Amy Tresley turned
away, trying to repress the tears that
sprang involuntariy to her eyes.
lie does not love me- she thought.
'Oh, if I knew some spell to bring back
the old fondness'
She went slowly out into the bright
ante room where the winter sunshine
streamed through olcander boughs and
swinging trails of passion vine leaves,
and a great Newfoundland dog lay
winking and blinking in the golden
flocd
Nero, you love mel she rpur,nured,
throwing herself on the floor, with one
arm around her canine favorite's neck
and her burning cheek resting against
his shaggy curls.
She was only a child, this brown-eye |
Amabel Tresley, not yet sixteen, and
she looked more child-like than ever 10
her unconsciously picturesque attitude
on the old rug, with the curls hanging
loosely about her face and the irrepress-
ible culver on her lips. But all of u
sudden she glanced up with scarlet
blush as a shadow fell across the door
way and Nero uttered low warning
growl.
A tall fair-bsired gentlemen was
standing there, with his fur trimmed
hat iu one hand and an amused ex
preston on his countenance. 3a
Pardon me for startling you, my
dear little GIRL he said, gently. but
have called to see alr. Tresley, Is he
at home ?
Amabel stammered some incoherent
sentence about the next room, and ne
stranger bowed and passed on.
Mrs. Tresley took her embroidery and
sat down under the oleander bough.
As she threaded the hair-like Deedle
and fitted on miniature thimble of
chaste gold, loud derisive laugh from
the other room rang in her ears.
Your wife nonsense Tresley-that
child =
Il know have been fool = returned
her husbands voice, in a tone Of an
noyance and cbagrin Il was infatuated
-mad-and now it is too late for re-
pentance.
Where did you pick her up 2 asked
the languid, softly modulated voice.
'In New Orleans-left an orphan at
a great hotel by the death of her father,
clone and unprovided for. One could
not but pity her
And pity is a kin to love- laughed
the stranger. 4 understand your case
completely, Tresley. But surely she's
pretty enough even to suit your fastid-
ious TASTE
"a doll-a vapid, wearisome doll p
returne Tresley. impatiently. And to
think that l am tied to her for life ?
Then why the deuce did you marry
her 2
i tell you, Rayuer, 1 was fooI-a
fool to her brown eyes and golden hair;
and now, when it is too late, l have
discovered my mistake
well, old fellow, I'm sorry for you,
but the best advice I can tender is to
make the best of it, returned his com
panion, yawning. sAnd now, let's hear
what your plans are for spring-can't
you go to Europe with our party p
Amabefs senses comprehended the
conversation no further. She had sat.
silent and motionless, every word burn
ing IFS imprint on her heart as if they
had been live Goals. So Maurice was
weary of the pretty child he had taken
to bis home; and this explained the
coldness, almost aversion that her timid
coaxing had been vain to dispell.
She sat there nearly an hour, with
her head dropping on her breast. and
her hands clasped idly on her knee.
Finally she rose and went up stairs with
slow, languid steps. She had entered