Daily inter mountain. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1881-1901, 1901-01-17

A new YEARS. BELL. 5

BY q. n. Howard.

was founded by me in part expiation of
fierce and unnatural murder and the
voice shook, of my bride OF three score
short da ys-the farest rose that decked
the court of Arragon."
"Dong!"
''At tourney, a former lover. whom
l thought she tscorned, was endorsed in
the lists by my lance. ana lay gaspng
In his CORY helmet and polished mail. A
Woman's Cry from the pavilion where
she sat, startled the air, and a moment
later she, my, my Bride, and the words
were almost shrieked out in tones that
strangely ntermixed with the reso-
nance ofSthe bell, 'was seen rushing
across the amphitheater to the lists'
'"Dong!"
AS the brazen tone rang and echoed in
ghostly clamor through the belfry the
strange story continued, the voice by
which it was told increasing in intensity
and passion.
Throwing herself to the earth at the
head Of the wounded knight, she UNI
latched his helmet, ravenously kissed
his pale lips, and stemmed with her
silken scarf-the scarf that was mine
by the right of victor-the blood tina,
I
"Dong!"
81 drew my dagger, and would have
forfeited all claim to honor and knight
hood by Staying the lovers-him who lay
| crushed before me, and her. the troth-
| less bride, who, broken by despair,
| crouchtu near him. But no! postponing
my revenge, | tore her shrieking from
| his side.
| "Dong!''
AT night in her bower" and the voice
| dropped into a moan like that of the
winter wind without, II stabbed her to
death with this dagger Thus" and the
jeweied hands We're cenched, sweet
| was my vengeance. But-great, great
my punishment! She was 20 when 1 slew
her. The wounded knight disappeared;
and for many years none knew his
abode
Dong"
The strokes We're growing fainter.
But he had become a monk in a
monastery Of Cistercians near this place.
I On my death bed" and the voice sank
to whisper. she came to me unknown,
and was left alone With me in my dark
ened chamber to confess and shrive me.
He gave me not absolution!"
The figure gnashed his teeth as he
uttered the last words.
+ "Dongn'
Still tolled the bell, but with a tremor
like that of the hands at the rope.
Twenty times the days of the years
of her pilgrimage shall be the term OF
thy suffering whispered the false priest
through the curtains of my bed. THY
corpse indeed shall be entombed with
all seeming honor in the church tllor
hast erected; but the requiem mass is
| appointed to me and shall not be sung
! for thee. but for her"
"D-o-n-g!"
"'The black vestments. the tall tapers
the incense. shall be for thee-the llol,
prayers for her. Twenty times the day
of the years OF her age shall pass, ant
! then shall thou have rest. Then shall
the passing bell once more be toled TO
thee"
"D-o-n-n-gi''
"This night" and the voice tremblet
with WEAKNESS. marks the end OF thos
long four hundred years: ana thou. OLE
man. art here to ring my passing bell.'
'D-o-n-n-n-E!"
And the cadence of the last trenholm:
stroke huttered family over the snow
covered cnurchyard and fields. scare
reaching the village of Fountaindase.
Inc DIISul sunlight 1lStSulcO fHlo LII
delfry on New Years morning; but or
Ben was found dead on the floor wit
the rope, with which he gave the las
weak and quaverlng toll of the bell. stil
held in his grasp.
And the villagers superstltiously WINS
pered:
He rang his own passing bell!"
But Miss Glare. at the hall, after
cry over the death of her old FRIEND
said:
poor old Ben! His watch got wrong
for he gave the first toll just at the mid
night hour"