Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1877-01-13

"Let me have it !"
"Who are you 2" i cried, trembling
and. hardly breathing. "What do you
want ?"
MY ring-mine and Rogers. No
other woman can wear my ring. Look
don't you see the blood on il ?"
Aunt Lucinda's ring There was no
stain on it when she took it out of the
old casket; but I saw it now in the moon
ight-a dash of ugly red among the
crusted carvings. tore it off my finger,
and flung it away as if it were coal OF
fire.
"Who are you ?" 1 cried once mora.
And the answer came softly and slow,
like sigh:
Esther Chillingworth.
started up at her breathlessly.
Look at me, "she murmured. This
is the face that Roger Vane loved nigh
two hundred years ago; this is the hand
that wore his ring--that sent it back to
him from Salem jail when he cared no
longer to remember how he slipped it on
with kisses. They say l was very fair to
see in those days. Look at me. Am l
comely now ?"
She swept back her long hair from her
face, but without displacing the lock that
curled like q snake around her throat;
and then, rs looked at her, she broke
into low wailing cry:
81 had the fairest face in Salem-old
Chillingworth's daughter. The grass
withereth, the flower fadeth The par
son used to tell me it was vain show,
and laughed him to scorn. For in the
woods beyond Salem, when / was pick
ing May flowers, and rustling aside the
brown leaves to find their pink and white
clustered stars I met Roger Vane, and he
told me sweeter tale than the preacher
knew. And / let him kiss my mouth, for
he called it most sweet-yea, altogether
lovely '--sweeter than the breath of May
flowers. Oh, the Salem woods Oh,
my love, Roger, Roger y
Her wall swept by ike gust OF chill
ing wind, and the folds of the curtains
stirred and trembled With it; but she
never stirred-nOt even a hair of her
head was shaken as she stood there.
" He was brave, and young, and hand
some, and he came riding in from Bos-
/ ton, and rode down the street of Salem
that spring day. the goodliest day ever
saw. In old E. Eland, or i'll the new,
bleak country, the g ere none to com
pare with him, in my eyes; and SO
loved him. And he stayed in Salem, and
saw him day after day; ,Al none knew
it at first, for We strayed far away in
. those green woods that were just putting
on their leaves, and looked for May
flowers, and, later on, for the blue vio-
! lets that crept up through the rustling
dead foliage of last year. And at last he
came to my fathers house; but Abel
! Chillingworth was old and stern, and |
( feared him, and [ had no mother; and SC
we kept our secret-Roger and L.
feared nothing, asked nothing, in my
love; [ drained the cup Of each day dry,
and was content with its full draught OF
! Joy, and never dreamed, with summer
and the roses round me, of winter and
! decay, and dust and ashes, until one day
! came when we met in the Salem woods
! to part.
No tears my little MayHower,
Roger Vane said, softly, as he held me
within his strong, kindly arms. L have
never seen the drops i'll those sweet eyes
OF thine before, and | would not have my
last sight of them so maTed. It is only
for a little space, sweetheart. | shall
come back to steal away my little Puri.
tan maiden before the first leaf has turn.
ed red by her fathers door,
"' Why-why will you go, Roger 2
cried, as [ chung round him; and l asked
it only to hear over again what / knew
before quite well; how Gov. Winthrop,
whose blood relation he was, had sent
him here, and now recalled him, on bust
ness of the commonwealth, and now he
must obey; leaving me only for a little
WHILE a very little while, made him
whisper over and over, with my arms
about his neck. And then he pulled
from his finger that ring, with its darl
yellow stone and the little bright pearls
and slipped it over mine.
"' See, he said, you shall wear this
as my pledge of love and loyalty; there
is a lock Of my own hair under the stone
and you shall give me one of those pre-,
cious dark locks to keep and kiss wher
we are parted; and in two little months
| vow to exchange our love gifts bach
again, here in this very wood, my sweet
est
He took the lock of hair that curle(
by my forehead, and l took his ring, ant
his own kiss sealed it ON my finger Sc
we turned away from each other, anC
started on the long paths that led ou
lives apart, and never drew them to
gether again-never any more ! Roger
Vane rode back into Boston town, and
stole sadly to my fathers house, t.
mourn and wait for him, with his rims
hung round my neck, low down, by my
heart. -
The summer crept on, and the ho
days shortened their fierce fires, and tn,
August haze was in the sky the colder
rod shook out its plumes all along th,
dry, dusty road, and the ragged whit,
thistledown blew here and there.
watched for the first change along tht
dark borders of the woods-for the res
leaves, and for Roger but, one morn
ing, | woke up and saw the white fros
glittering on some blackened, droopint
vines around my window, and broaC
splash OF scarlet, like blood. dashed
across the maple trees, and no love
came riding down the road, or strayins
through the Salem wood to find me.
" Never, never, more hs@the las
kiss ON my lips forever, for none touched
them after Roger Vane. The leave
turned crimson, and golden, and russo
brown, and withered and dropped from
the bare trees the dark November dav