Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1882-12-11


was his purpose to die as martyrs
and brave men. What was life, that
he should cling to it? He already
felt the air pulsate with the first
heavy roll of the death-knell. But
no sound came. Still facing the
soldiers with his clear, grey eyes
| upon them, he waited. The crimson
banners in the west were paling to
pink. The kline had ceased their
lowing, and been gathered into the
brick-yards.
All nature had sounded her cur
few; but old Jasper was silent.
The bell-ringer, with. his gray head
yet barred, had travelled half the dis
tance that lay between his cottage
and the ivy-covered tower, when a
form went fitting past him, with
pale, shadowy robes floating about
it, and hair that the low western
lights touched and tinted as with a
halo.
"Ah. Huldah, Huldah,'' the old
man muttered show swift she flies
/ will come soon, dear. My work is
| almost DONE"
Huldah was the good wife who had
gone from him in her early woman
hood, and for whom he had mourned
| all his long life. Rut the feeting
form was not Huldah's, it was Lily
De We're, hurried by a sudden and
desperate purpose toward the cathe-
dral.
$50 help me God, curfew shall
not ring tonight! Cromwell and his
dragons come this way. Once
more 1 will kneel at his feet and
plead"
She entered the ruined arch. She
wrenched from its fastenings the
carved and worm-eaten door that
barred the way to the tower. She
ascended with flying and frenzied
feet the steps; her heart lifted up to
| God for Richards deliverance from
peril. The bats flew out and shook
| the dust of centuries from the black
cravings. AS she went up she
caught glimpses of the interior of the
great building, with its groined roof,
its chevrous and clustered columns
it's pictured saint and carved image
of the Virgin, which the pillagers of
ages had spared to be dealt with by
time, the most relentless vandal of
all.
Up-still up-beyond the rainbow
tint thrown by the stained glass
across her death-white brow; up
still up-past open arcade and arch,
with griffin and gargoyle staring at
her from under bracket and coruice,
with all the hideousness medieval
carving; the stairs, flight by flight,
growing Trailer beneath her feet
now but slender network between
her and the outer world; but still
up.
Her breath was coming short and
gasping. She saw through an open
space old Jasper cross the road at
the foot of the tower. Oh, how far
The seconds were treasures which
Cromwell, with all his blood-bought
commonwealth, could not purchase
from her. Up-ah-there, just above
her, with its great brazen mouth and
wicked tongue, the bell hung.
A worm-eaten block for step
and one small, white hand had clasp.
ed itself above the clapper- 9th
er prepared, at the tremble, to rise
and clasp its mate, and the feet to
swing off-and thus she waited
Jasper was old and slow, but he was
sure, and it came at last. A faint
quiver, and the young feet swung
from their rest, and the tender hands
clasped for more than their precious
life the writhing thing. There was 8
groaning and creaking of the
rude pulleys above, and then the
strokes came heavy and strong
Jasper's hand had not forgotten its
cunning, nor his arm its strength
The tender, soft form was swung
and dashed to and fro. But she
clung to and caressed the cold, crue
thing. Let one stroke come and 6
thousand might follow-the work
would be done. She wreathed hel
white arms about it, SO that at every
pull of the great ropes it crushed into
her flesh. 1t tore her, and wounded
and bruised; but there in the SOL
emn twilight the brave woman swung
and fought with the curfew; and
God gave her the victory.
The old bell-ringer said to himself
"Aye, Huldah, my work is done
The pulleys are getting too heavy fol
my old arms. My ears, too, have
failed me. [ dinna hear one stroke
of the curfew. Dear old bell, it is
my ears that have gone false, ant
not thou. Farewell, old friend"
And just beyond the worn pave
ment a shadowy form went fitting
past him. There were drops oi
blood upon the white garments, and
her face was like the face of one
who walked in her sleep, and the
hands hung wounded and powerless
at her side.
Cromwell paused with his horse
men under the dismantled May-pole
before the village green. He saw q