Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1876-05-17
VOL. 71.-3631. NO. 81.


she was in her right mind. and inducing
him TO follow her as she hurried bnck to her
post by the window, to watch the remainder
of the brilliant spectacle.
There was no more sleep that night for
the family in the stone house, and when
morning broke, cloudless and beautiful after
the storm, there lay. the untarnshed land
scape spread out before them IN all its old,
familiar beauty. and Marshalfs barn hear
Of ruins at their feet.
For one short week Mr.. Dean and his
daughter reioiced over this nnlooked-for de.
liverance. They blessed the storm, and con
graduated themselves morning, noon and
night, as they gazed upon the unbroken
which had never seemed half so
before. Then there began 10 be-
a stir among the few charred aud blackened
timbers which the fire had spared--fresh
ones We're deposited beside them, load after
load Of building materials arrived, and, to
their utter dismay, they learned that the
barn was 10 be rebuilt Mr.. Dean remou-
strated TO no purpose and friendly neighbors
yainly tried their persuasions on the obstin-
ate old man. Young Marshall. who was
deeply mortified and grieved at his fathers
course, excrted all the eloqueuce which he
possessed to prevent the carrying out of this
malicious design but the only reply which
he received was, See here, my boy, you
come aud 60 as you choose, and interfere
with none Of your plans. You act your
pleasure. and shall act mine"
So the work went on with all possible
speed, and raising day was at hand. \
crowd had gathered. as was usual on such
occasions in the country The huge frame
was being slowly hoisted to its place, with
loud shouts and cheers and heaye-a.hoys,
when some part Of the structure suddenly
gave way, and timber after timber came
tumbling to the ground. Two or three men
received ugly knocks and hard bruises, but
all escaped without serious injury, with one
exception. John Marshall lay upon the
ground under heavy timber, with a broken
arm, and stream OF blood flowing from a
wound in his head, cut by a sharp stone
upon which he had struck in falling.
lie was taken up insensihle, and laid upon
the grass water was dashed in his face TO
revive him, and his head bound up in hand
kerchiefs to stop the flow of blood \ doc
tor. who was quickly brought to the spot,
sowed up the wound and baudaged the dis
ahled arm.
"What is to be done with him ?" he asked,
with grave face as he concluded the opera
ton. 40 move him any distance in his
present condition would surely prove fatal"
Bring him into my house and we wiH
do the best we can for him." said Mr.. Dean,
who had come out on hearing of the accident.
So the unconscious man was carried in
and placed on bed and there he lay for
many a long day, prostrated and helpless, in
the house of him whom he had hated and
injured. His son had been sent for, but the
messenger was long in finding him. When
ne arrived the crowd had dispersed, and Mr..
Dean was standing 10y the bedside of his
father, while Alice was bathing the invalid's
head, and striving TO keep it cool with APP
plicatiOns of ice.
gMr Dean" said the young man, after
gazing silently for some minutes at his
father, who was still in q state of stupor, " |
should in any case be extremely sorry for
such an intrusion as this but under the cir
cumstances, feel that this is truly unpar-
donable. | will have my poor father re-
moved tonight, if it is possible"
You must not think of such a thing"
Mr.. Dean replied, warmly. "The doctor has
expressly forbidden il. You must take care
Of your father here, and in doing so | trust
that ycu will spare yourself all uneasiness
as to intrusion. Make yourself as comfort
able as you can, aud allow us to render you
any assistance in our power"
Good heavens Are we to thrust our
selves upon you in this way after all that has
happened p exclaimed young Marshall, half
beside himself with anxiety for his fathers
safety, and modification at the embarrassing
position in which he found himself. beg
pardon, sir, but your generosity makes me
feel more painfully than ever that all claim
to it has been forfeited. can only assure
you that even You yourself cannot have re-
gretted the cause of this trouble more than
have done
81 believe you'll" said Mr.. Dean, cor
daily, much affected by this impulsiye ex-
preston of feeling. He extended his hand,
which Marshall received gratefully, while
Alice, who had melted at the first signal of
distress, wished from the bottom of her
heart that she had treated the young man
with more consideration. Her blue eyes
were swimming when he said to her, " Pray
let me relieve you, Miss Dean. | fear you
have tired yourself already
Weeks had passed before John Marshall
became fully conscious of his situation.
Fever set in, and he grew delirious; and
when at last the delirium passed away, he
fell into stupor, which seemed almost more
hopeless than his former state. lie had been
lying for long time with scarcely a sign of
life about him, except the feeble fluttering
OF his pulse when his son, who had watched
over him night and day, saw him slowly open
his eyes, and gaze, with a look of faint Won
der, about the room. lie was then too weak
TO speak but when days had elapsed, and
he had gained sufficient strength, he asked
no questions. The barn, or rather its skele-
ton, which remained as it had been lett on
the day of the accident, was in plain sight
mi, ha1 ta1 Ia
lie, hour after hour, gazing at it, silently
closing his eyes at any attempt at conversa-
ton, and scarcely giving an answer to the
few questions which were put to him.
Young Marshall was sitting one day sadly
watching his father, and wondering what
were the thoughts over which he seemed
brooding. when the sick man turned slowly
in his bed, and, in quiet way, as though 1t
were no uncommon request that he was
about to make, said to his son
John, should like 10 have you see that
everything belonging to that barn over the
way is carried off, and the place cleared up
DO It Us soon as possible, will you 2"
Certainly, father, if you wish it," his
son replied, not knowing whether to be most
astonished or rejoiced.
Perhaps you can attend to it now, said
Mr. Marshall ~ do not need you. think
shall 90 TO sleep" And he closed his
eyes as il he wished nothing more to be said.
Young Marshall was not slow in execut-
ing his fathers wishes, and two days had
not passed before all traces Of the barn had
disappeared. \ few days more and Mr..
| Marshall signiied his intention of going
home, firmly resisting all persnasions to the
contrary.
I" shall leave here to-day" he said TO his
son '" and when am all ready TO go, John, !
/ should like to see Mr.. Dean and his daughter,
/ Ask them 10 meet me ON the balcony "
So, leaning upon his son, weak, broken
/ down man, he tottered across the thresh-
/ old over which he had been carried two
months before Sinking into an armchair,
which Mr. Dean made ready for him, while
/ Alice softly arranged the pillows about him,
| he said, in q voice shaking with weakness
and emotion:
Richard Dean, never thought should
have 10 thank you for anything but I've
been brought 10 it, You and | were never
1 the best Of friends, and year ago swore
| to do you harm as long as lived But the
| Almighty set His face against me. Ven
geance is mine will repay, saith the Lord.
/ And lie has kept Ills word. lie has repaid
me for all have done. This thing has made
an old man of me, and there's no telling
now how long shall last want to make
my peace with you, Richard, and your fam
/ liz, and TO live as friends Tor the rest OF my
days, if you can let bygones be'bygones.'