Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1890-07-31
THE LEGEND OF THE MILL.
BY LOU E. LA BoUTELLE.

Not far out of Cherry Greek narrow,
stony roadway turns out of the main
course, and leads over wooded hill to
another main course three miles farther
west.
In daylight it was none too pleasant
and now. when a gloomy autumn twi-
light was coming on, it was indeed cold
and forbidding
1 The night was neither stormy or dark,
for pale moon hung near the zenith
but the old rotten mill by Darken's
pond stood out against the horizon in an
awful sort OF relief and yonder on the
sky rode dark, piled-up clouds as if the
great worlds beyond had gone ont in a
puff of dull, heavy smoke.
The angular rallied fence wormed its
aerpent-like way far into the gathering
shadows and the strip of yellow grass
between the wheel-rots faded into its
Boundaries almost within reach. Thick
mud lay ON either side and drained a
clay-colored juice into the track of the
last wagon.
1t was on such night that figure
turned into this uninviting path from the
regular highway, and stumbled along
toward the old mill. Even in the gloom
it was not hard to read his vocation from
his appearance. His tattered coat-t tails
swung slowly to the rhythm of his gait
and his remnant of hat was drawn
close over his lowering face.
1t was not far to the old mill, and
when he reached it the vagrant paused,
lifting a steady look to its crumbling
walls.
He gave a grunt of relief as if his
journey was done, but still he gazed at
the mill before him.
"Humph,' he muttered as if lost in
thoughts of past. What a firm
Darken, Son & Co. was. Many and
many the time the wee small hours have
found us four-the firm and hidden
away in the little back office. What
times-and what results / wonder if
j could find the place in this dark
ness.
"How strangely it all ended, " he went
ON. Darker died respected man be-
cause he had the brain to conceal from
the world his follies. Young Paul-the
"Son" ran away to escape death at the
hands of the other partner, Mr.. JelilIins.
That last was miserable affair. Poor
Polly Jelikinsl wonder where she
went after her brother was killed.
He moved on toward the moss-grown
door and passed into the room. He
shuddered as he entered and feeling
of some terrible dread crept into his
heart.
Lo1 he oil oxtraatl.-
the dirty floor of some old hut, but
tonight he could hardly bring himself
to cross the distance between the front
and the little office in the rear. 1t
might have been the fear of falling
through the floor or, perhaps, the
memory of the past wickedness.
The boards creaked dismally beneath
his shutting tread and bat sprang out
into the night with wierd gesture.
"Curse it, whispered the wsyfarer,
~what fate ever led me back to this in
fernal place? Was it not sufficient that
here lost wealth, family, honor, and
prospects? Who knows, / may have
been turned back to give up the last I
have-my life"
As if consoled with this he pushed
open the little door before him and
stepped into the widowed room. How
plainly he saw it all-not by his eyes,
for here the darkness was intense; but
in the one clearly outlined corner OF his
memory.
The four walls rose as of old out of a
rough plank floor, and over in the cor
ner lay the fallen desk. Down under
his feet he heard the faint whisper of
trickling notes, and he almost fancied
the wheel was going round.
Was it the wheel that made that rustl-
ing he heard? He bent to listen. No
nor was it the bats. 1t was some
thing moving stealthily toward him
from the wall opposite.
He saw nothing in the blackness, but
from some blind intuition he drew back
into the great room of the mill.
There was no rush-no words, but he
knew a vengeance was before him,
slowly following him, led by eyes that
were accustomed to the obscurity.
Hold on, damn you," he broke out.
aWhat do you want to kill me for?"
~Who are your" came out of the
darkness after pause. @and what are
you sneaking in on me for|
"Say, do you own this hotel?'
~Not exactly, but 1 belong to a So
ciety that has leased it for club
room"
"Ahl the Brotherhood of Decayed
Gentry, or knights of the Road, Ell +?
/ belong to the same mystic order.
Again, who are you"
%Who am L? Well, Tn nobody now,
bat If it was daylight I could show you
who l once was.
~How SOP"
Il could show you, down yonder in
the village, three pointing church
spires. One is tall with weather vane
on top; the next one supports furnished
brazen cross and this side is a smaller
one with only a shingled cone for
finger"
sWell.
aOpce 1 stood beneath that finger.
Once upon a time l lifted my finger !
until It was parallel with the steeple. |
4 IL