Des Arc weekly citizen., 1868-04-25


 Maurice winced little.
 No hardly think she was"
 ''Did you ever think here might be a remote possibility of suicidew
 Maurice Presley started at the awful possibility so coolly touched upon by the matter-of-fact detective and when the door had closed behind his horri- ble equanimity, Presley sank on chair, with his face buried in both hands.
 My wife-my little soft-eyed Amy !! 1 have been cruel, harsh--I deserve no better than that heaven should deal with me as I dealt with the lonely orphan. Oh, my lost wife art thou safe in heaven, or, wandering homeless on the face of the cruel earth2
 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 go to now ?" she ask cd herself, trying in vain to command her whirling thoughts. "Perhaps can walk to Burghtord, and then take the train to New York"
 "Poor Amabel! She soon realized the wide difference there was between driving over the road with her pet gray ponies and plodding it's weary length on foot. It was growing dark her head ached violently, and finally she paused abruptly.
 "Bless your dear heart, Mrs. Presley, what are you doing here ?"
 An old woman, with bundle of sticks on her arm, suddenly accosted her.
 ''l think l have lost my way, Mrs. Jessup," said the bcwildered little creature. "Would you let me come in and rest for awhile? ?"
 "And welcome pretty" said the old woman, cordially for Mrs. Presley had done her many kind deed. "That is, ifyou don't mind little up-side-down- ishness, for Luke's folks are packed up to start for Australia tomorrow morn ing, and I was just getting together little wood to boil the last tea-kettle."
 Amabel sat down before tire fire, mechanically warming her hands.
 "Am near Burgford, Mrs. Jessup ?'
 "Burghford, pretty? No, that you ain't! Chelmburgh is nearer by good half mile.'
 "Yes I know. Does tho train stop therc?"
 "Yes, honey. Here, now-drink this cup O tea, and eat bit O bread, just to put color into your cheek"
 "Mrs, Jessup," said Amabcl, looking up with wild, wistful eyes, "what do people do when they want to earn their own living?'
 We'll, to be sure.' calculated the old woman. "Why, honey, they go out to service sometimes"
 And what else 2"
 "Well, they work in factory some times the book learned ones teach school; and sometimes they take in sewing"
 Do you know what time the train stops at Chelmburgh, Mrs. Jessup?"
 "Some time after six, dear; but
 "Thank you, Mrs. Jessup; must go now"
 "Wait till Luke comes back, honey,' coaxed the old woman, "and hell go with you."
 Amabel Presley shook her head resolutely.
 "No, must go alone. You have been very kind to me, Mrs. Jessup have no money to give you, not even q ring, but this handkerchief is very valuable; please keep it for my sake."
 And before Goody Jessup could open her mouth to remonstrate, Mrs. Presley was gone, leaving the India handkerchief lying like snowy cob web on the old woman's horny palm.
 And so, months afterward, when news came that the stately Australian ship was wrecked off cruel coast, and not passenger saved alive, the cob web handkerchief, floating to the shore formed q ghastly link between the dead and the living.
 Detective Barnum brought it to Maurice Presley one night, silent and self-possessed as ever.
 ''From the wreck of the Cytherea, sir !"
 Maurice stared at the delicate embroi- dery, with Amable Tresley's name in the wrought shield as if he had seen a ghost.
 "The Cytherea! Good heaven! and there was not soul saved ?"
 'No sir"
 From that night Maurice wore crape on his hat, and genuine mourning in his heart, for the child-wife whom he had lost.
 ~
 Ten years have passed by ere we again take up the thread of our story.
 The young moon was just beginning to glimmer through the purple-blue sky of the midsummer twilight. as Maurice Presley and Sidney Milford paced up and down the marble-paved terrace.
 "So you like Mrs. Cameron P said the latter.
 "She is the most beautiful woman ever looked upon r returned Presley, stopping short in his enthusiasm. "Wilford, you know the sad history of my first marriage my second, | trust,