Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1883-01-12

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ings might have led an observer to expect.
His pallor, too, was remarkable for a coun-
tryman. He was professedly engaged in
writing, but he shaped not a word. He had
sat there for only few minutes when, lay
ing down his pen and pushing back his chair,
he rested a hand uneasily on each of the
chair-arms and looked on the floor.
Soon he arose and left the room. His
course was along a passage which ended in q
central octagonal hall crossing this he
knocked at a door. A faint though deep
voice told him to come in. The room he en-.
tered was the library, and it was tenanted by
single person only-his parton, the duke.
During this long interval of years the duke
had lost all his heaviness of build He was
indeed almost skeleton bis white hair was
thin, and his hands were nearly transparent.
"Oh, WillsY' he murmured. "Sit down.
What is it -
Nothing new, your grace. Nobody to
speak of has written, and nobody has called"
"Ah-what theD2 You look concerned"
"Old times have come to life, as they
sometimes will
"Old times be cursed which old times
are they 7"
That Christmas week nineteen years ago,
when the late duchess's cousin Frederick i'm
plored her to meet him on Yerncombe Down.
l saw the meeting-it was Just such a night
as this-and l saw more. She met him once,
but not a second time.
evils, shall recall some words to you
the words Of an oath taken on that hill by
a shepherd boy Z"
TT is unnecessary. He has strenuously
kept that oath and promise. Since that
night no sound of his shepherd life has passed
his lps-even to yourself. But you wish to
hear more, or do you not, your Grace?'
II wish to hear no more, said the duke
sullenly.
very well; let it be SO. But a time
seems coming-may be quite near at hand
when in spite of my lips that episode will
allow itself to go undivulged no longer"
II wish to hear no more ~ repeated the
duke.
you need be under no fear of treachery
from me, said the steward, somewhat bit
terly. II am man to whom you have been
kind-no patron could have been kinder.
You have clothed and educated me have in
stalled me here and l am not unmindful
| But what OF it-has your Grace gained much
by my stanchness, think not There was
great excitement about Captain Pentridges
disappearance, but l spoke not a word. And
his body has never been found. For nine
teen years l have wondered what you did
with him. Now l know. A circumstance
that occurred this afternoon recalled the time
to me most forcibly. To make it certain to
myself that all was not a dream, l went up
there with spade l searched, and saw
enough to know that a skeleton lies there in
closed badgers hole"
"Wills, do you think the duchess guessed?"
''She never did, am sure, to the day of
her death"
Did you leave all as you found it on the
hill 2"
II did"
What made you think of going up there
| this particular afternoon
What your Grace says you don't wish to
be told ="
The duke was SILENT and the stiffness of
the evening air was SO marked that there
reached their ears from the outer air the
sound of tolling bell.
"What is that bell tolling for 2" asked the
nobleman.
For what 1 came to tell you of, your
| Grace"
"You torment met is your way :" said
the duke, querulously. who's dead in the
village?"
The oldest mantle old shepherd"
dead at last-how old is he p
Ninety four"
And am only seventy. have four and
twenty years to the good"
II served under the old man when kept
sheep on Verncombe Down And he was on
the hill that second night, when l first ex-
| changed words with your Grace He was on
the hill all the time but did not know he
was there-nor did you"
''Ah!" said the duke, starting up. Go
on yield the point-you may tell"
II heard this afternoon that he was at the
point of death. 1t was that which set me
thinking of that past time-and induced me
to search on the hill for what have told you.
Coming back l heard that he wished to see
| the vicar to confess to him a secret he had
! kept for near twenty years-'out of respect
| to my lord the duke'-something that he had
seen committed on Nerncombe Down when
returning to the flock on December night
nineteen years ago. l have thought it over.
He had left me in charge that evening but
| he was in the habit of coming back sudden
| ly, lest l should have fallen asleep. That
night l saw nothing of him, though he had
| promised TO return. He must have returned,
and-found reason to keep in hiding. 1t is
all plain. The next thing is that the vicar
went to him two hours ago. Further than
that have not heard"
at is quite enough 1 will see the vicar
at daybreak tomorrow"
"What to do 7"
stop his tongue for four land twenty years
till am dead at ninety-four, like the step-
herd"
Your Grace, while you impose silence on
me, will not speak, even though my neck
should pay the penalty. l promised to be
yours, and am yours. But is this persist
encO of any avail Z"
"Tll stop his tongue I say !" cried the duke,
with some OF his old rugged force. Now,
you go home to bed Wills and leave me to
manage him"
The interview ended, and the steward
withdrew. The night, as he had said, was
| Just such a one the night of nineteen
years before, and the events of the evening
destroyed in him all regard for the season as
one of oheerfulness and goodwill, He went
of TO his own house OF the further verge OF
the park, where he led lonely life, scarcely
calling any man friend. At eleven he pre-
pared to retire to bed, but did not retire. He
sat down and reflected. Twelve o'clock
struck he looked out at the colorless moon,
and, prompted by he knew not what, put on
his hat and emerged into the air. Here Will
liam Wills strolled on and on, till he reached
the top of Verncombe Down-a spot he had
not visited at this hour of the night during
the whole nineteen years.
He placed himself as nearly as he could
guess, on the spot where the shepherds hut
had stood. No lamhing was in progress there
now, and the old shepherd who had used
him so roughly had ceased from his labors
that very day. But the trilithon stood up
white as ever, and, crossing the intervening
swArd, the steward placed his hand upon the
stone. Restless and self-reproachtul as he
| was, he could not resist a smile AS ne lhouBuI
of the terrifying oath of compact sealed by
kiss upon the stones of pagan temple.
But be had kept his word, rather as prom
ise than as formal vow, with much worldly
advantage to himself, though not much hap
piness, till increase of years had bred reac-
tionary feelings which led him to receive the
news of tonight with emotions akin to relief
While leaning against the DEVILS Door and
thinking on these things he became conscious
that he was not the only inhabitant of the
down. A figure in white was moving across
his front with long, noiseless strides. Wills
stood motionless; and when the form drew
quite near he perceived it to be that of the
duke himself, in his nightshirt-apparentl
walking in his sleep. Not to alarm the old
man, Wills clung close to the shadow of the
stone. The duke went straight on into the
hollow. There he knelt down and began
scratching the earth with his hands like
badger. After few minutes he arose,
sighed heavily, and retraced his steps as he
had come.
Fearing that he might harm himself, yet
unwilling to arouse him, the steward follow
ed noiselessly. The duke kept on his path
| unerrinplv entered the park and made for