Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1881-10-19
CONSCIENCE.


CONSCIENCE,
Everybody admired the chateau
Richemont ut no other spot the shore
OF tho lake curved 80 gracefully, or the
trees and shrubbory ilourished In such
proiusion. Paths led up from the
waters edgo through Conservatives,
brimming over with rare flowers, whose
harder sisters found fitting back
ground in tho yclvety turf; past ioun'
tains Of many n quaint device, whose
spray dashed itself saucily in ones face,
until one reached the broad flight OF
steps directly before the chateau,
The modern part Of tho building, ar'
ranged for luxurious comfort, contrast
cd charmingly with the grim, half.
ruinous old tower at the east end, whose
scanned and Jagged walls the Haunting
Virginia creepcr and more sober ivy had
hung with mottled curtain. Little
more of the ruin was left exposed than
the dim, uncertain sm.dial and the
hcadlcss statue OF some duke of Richie
mont, who Ind been dust and ashes ior
centuries, disputing with the swallows
stunding.room in his carved niche.
Strangers visiting the place declared
that Sir Richard Hildreth and his only
daughter Emily must indeed be the
happiest of mortals to call such beau
tiful spot their home but older residents
IN the neighborhood knew that the lives
of the beautiful young English girl and
her patrician-looking father were fur
from happy.
Years ago, while travelling in Italy,
Sir Richard had had violent quarrel
with a Prussian officer, resulting in n
challenge and duel. by an unlucky
chance the spot chosen for the rendez.
vous had one spectator during the az.
nngements for the duel-a gray-haired
franciscan monk-who, as the first fatal
shot was fired, rushed between the COM
batants, receiving the discharge in his
own breast.
It was Sir Richards own hand which
had dealt the death blow, and when he
saw the aged monk lying bleeding on
the ground pressing his rosary to his
lips for the last time, the young noble
man fled from the scene, his soul filled
with wild remorse that seemed destin-
ed to haunt him to his dying day.
Time passed, and Sir Richard Hill
dreth, instead of growing reconciled to
the thought of the melancholy accident
at Verona, became more and more
haunted with the horror of his supposed
crime he grew gloomy and despond-
cnt, and sank into melancholy over
which all who knew him shook their
heads, limiting at touch of hereditary
insanity in the Hildreth family. The
death of his wife at Richemont seemed
to be the finishing blow to his happi-
ness, and from that date his friends
ceased to consider him as one of them
selves.
The saddened, world-wcary man or,
dered two rooms to be fitted up for
himself in the old tower; the first one
q bare, chcerless bedroom, opening di.
rectly upon what struck terror to the
heart of any one that rarely beheld 1t,
In stone cell, with vaulted roof,
and dim light struggling through one
high window, shrouded figure sat in
death like silence day after day and
year after year, in the coarse brown
habit and hempen girdle of a Franciscan
monk.
The gown concealed only the sem
blance of human figure, but the glis-
tening white skull of Fra Giacomo, the
monk whom Sir Richard shot in the
duel, grinned from under the tattered
cowl. The eye-sockets were turned
toward the outer room, and tablet,
with the words, "Memento mori," was
fastened overhead.
In his disordered state of mind, Sir
Richard Hildreth imagined that he
might in q measure expiate his crime
by constant contemplation of the vic
tim of it, so by untiring efforts he pro
cured the skull and habit of Fra Cha
como, and the hideous image was AZ
ranged in its stone cell, where it sat
from one years end to another, covered
with dust, and the prey OF undisturbed
verDin.
1t was Emily Hildreth's twenty first
birthday, and, dressed in a tasteful
white morning-gown, adorned with
knots of blue ribbcn, the color Of her
eyes, she was walking slowly up and
down the broad terrace before the
house. She held an open letter in her
hand, and there was look of pensive
sadness in her eyes, greatly ut variance
with the cheerful congratulations of the
servants.
81 thought you would he among the
first to bring me birthday greeting,
she said, extending her hand, with q
sweet smile, to young man, who,
bounding up the flight of stairs against
which the girl leaned, seized the prof
fered hand and pressed it with fervor to
his lips.
Edmund-Kennedy was tall, dark.eyed
and handsome, with look Of bravery
and daring about him which one of Hel
Majesty's soldiers should have, and the
world agreed that in him Emily Hill
dreth had found fitting suitor.
As Emily Withdrew her hand from hel
lovers grasp, she noticed pure dia-
mond glistening on her first finger.
"Oh, Edmund, 1 dare not wear it y
she said, anxiously, while tears started
to her eyes.
"Why should you not, Emily? 1 had
hoped your twenty-first birthday would
be our wedding-day instead Of a renewal