St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1878-01-04
1.-THE Visitation of God"
HOW A TRAITOR AND MURDERER MET
HIS END.

HOW A TRAITOR AND MURDERER MET
[From Edward Kings Novel in Boston Journall
It was yet dark when he set out on
his journey. He was terribly fatigued
now; each step caused him pain, and
more than once he turned back long
ingly, looking toward the group of
houses, in one of which he felt certain
that the newly arrived Helen was le-
posing at that moment. "She has re-
turned" he cried, 'and she will forget
me. In leaving her seem to leave my
life behind !" The cold wind blew lit
tie gusts of snow in his face, and he
fancied that it was mocking at his
misery. Presently he came to the COM
-p4lxrively unused road which led to
Goose Hill. Thus far Re had been OBJ
served by no one, and he paused to
rest little. Gradually the winter
dawn made itself felt the snowy slopes,
the ragged bushes, the tree stumps ap-
peared. BlantOn knew this great hill
well. He had wandered over it many
times both in summer and winter, and
one of his favOrite haunts had been IL
fiat rock almost shrOuded by. saplings
and vines, but from whose summit
when the leaves had vanished one
could see Chasetown spread out before
him. An earnest desire to climb to this
familiar place and to gaze down once
more on the little village in which he
had had such strange and startling eX-
periences before his last sight of it for
ever, now seized upon him. He saw a
few half-obliterated traces of footsteps
in the road and hesitated for moment,
fearing lest he might encounter some
farmer who would recognize him, but
at last he began clambering mp the
ascent. For half an hour he pushed
on, and was within few yards of the
large rock when the rising sun sent
food of light along the white fleece in
which the hillside was clad. Blanton
stood dazzled, rubbing his eyes and
swaying TO aud fro like drunken man.
He soon became accustomed to the
light, however, and, sinking down
YEARLY on mass of brushwOod half
covered with ice-crystals, he gazed
earnestly toward ChasetOwn.
He saw faint wreath of blue smoke
curling upward from one of the tall,
square chimneys of the tavern people
there were early astir Perhaps-per
haps the minister, the meddling st.
Stephen, who had, without risk, won
the prize for which others had planned
and toiled, and plotted and ruined their
peace of mind-perhaps he was dead !
Blanton took a grim comfort in the
thought. Perhaps Helen herself was
doomed to unhappiness- the misery
which she had unwittingly but surely
brought upon Others. BIantOn remem-
| hara1 how still anH Tlala thn "A
was, when Ebenezer Rock bent over
him after the young men had told them
that Helen loved Eidred. "May be
that was the crowning blow" he whis-
pered hoarsely to himself. For a mo-
ment he felt like damned soul outside
the gates of Paradise, but he closed his
lips tightly, with cruel, cynical smile
on them, after he had reflected for Il
time. "Helen," he whispered, ''your
battle is not yet over; l will go away
for the present, but L shall see you
again, shall see you again. Fate has
brought us together more than once,
aud fate will bring us face to face again.
| If not ?-but why not trust to fate ~
As Blanton had always sneered ut and
Iebelled against the idea of Providence,
it was not remarkable that he should
| uol uINc vi IL lldl ulOlutut. .
| Still murmuring of fate he arose and
prepared to climb the rock. Between
him and the ragged pinnacle stretched
Il lOrg range OF boarding, which from !,
distance looked like fence. He walked
quickly toward it.
"Why, it's the old wood slide ~ he
muttered. 81 should have said that it
was quarter of mile farther in that
direction, beyond the rock. All it has
been moved. But it doesn't seem to be
in working order yet"
He came up to the slide, at the point
where the snow-laden bushes bent down
across it, and took hold of the ice
shrouded boards. Joe Lamotte's wooden
messengers had passed beneath the
bushes without even touching one OF
their tiny branches, OF scattering par
ticle of snow into the trough. Blanton
looked up to the summit of the hill
The mouth of the trough was barely
visible from where he stood. He scan
ned the skyline carefully, but could
see no signs of life. He thought that
he heard the vigorous blows of axes faI
away, but he was not certain. He was
faint and weary, and the ringing in his
ears seemed to drown all other noises
The slide made rapid descent at a
point just below the bending bushes
and BlantOn felt trif1e giddy as he
looked along the smooth surface down
toward the edge of the high cliff. "One
might get an ugly fall here" he thought
Selling hold of the stout bushes, he
swung himself into the trough, and
looking in the direction of the rock
which he wished to reach, stood there
fol- moment. Then he turned carefully
getting a new grip on the stronges
bush, for there was scarcely any holC
for his feet. From this airy perch he
could look directly down upon the large
open space in front of Uncle Bells farm
house. He started and uttered cry
as OF recognition. Forgetting every.
thing else he leaned forward, staring
with all his might at the figures of two
women who were at that moment cross
ing this open space, and were about tC
enter the venerable farmers garden
gate. He could not see them very dis
tinctly, but by the stately and slow walk
of the taller of the women, he knew in
stinctively that it was Helen Bell
Clutching desperately at the supporting
bush, he sank down on one knee in the
) trough and leaned forward, staring
eagerly.
As he knelt thus, he was completely
hidden by the clump of bushes from
any person standing at the top of the
hill. And it happened that at that in
} stant Joe Lamotte, who had been away
to one of the cabins to drink cup OF
hot coffee, returned, singing more gaily
than before, and, seizing large stick
thrust it into the mouth of the slide
1t ran down the incline as if pursued
bV demons and its ranid nrnrress