Macon beacon., 1905-12-23

and new to Peridale, and the sexton
was crotchety and opinionated. The
last vicar had Slipped into an easy
habit of deferrlng to his long expe-
rlence, and this had made him AFRO
giant. 1T is a fine old custom, Bar
gle"
"There'll be the chimes at the par
ish church over the hill yonder," Bar
gle interrupted, testify; they sound
here in the village quite plain, an
folks must make the best o that an
be thankful"
There was a deal of grumbling about
Il In the village; Bargle knew that,
and took n morbid pride in feeling
that he was having his own way.
People wers limiting that his ailments
were imaginary, that his rheumatism
was merely another name for his
grabbed perversity, and an excuse for
his increasing Incidence.
As he sat smoking and Illuminating,
his thoughts Travelled along that bleak
road to the church, and back into
bither old Christmases when he had
toiled robustly, with his assistant, nigh
up in the crazy tower and they had
kept the three bells swinging and
peaing joyously from eight O'Clock till
midnight with short rests between
whiles, and one long rest when steam
ing hot coffee and toast had been car
ried up the narrow, steep stairs to
them by a homely, CHEEKY little wom-
an, who was his wife, and a merry
eyed, winsome maid, who was their
daughter Alice.
But that had happened for the last
time-how m;ny Christmases ago?
Why, already eight winters had
showed over that mound in the church
yard. And this was the fourth year
since Alice had deserted him in his
loneliness. and he had set himself TO
forget her
He had not forgotten yet, though;
nor forgiven her.
In defiance of his imperative be-
hests, she had married the ne'er-do-
weel son of tradesman in the town
yonder, and they had gone away to
London. She had written to him thrice
but he burned her first letter and re-
turned the Others unopened, and, If
he had not forgotten her, her name
was never on his lips.
At length, few months ago, the
village heard that her husband was
dead. She had written to neighbol
saying she and her baby were desti-
tute, and begging that she would in
torcede and ask her father to forgive
her and let her come home.
But Bargle, mindful of his dignity
hardened himself, and, resentng this
intercession as an impertinence, curt
ly advised the peacemaker not to med
die in his business again; hot words
passed between them, and she flung
off in such a whirl of indignation that
her reply to Alice apparently scared
the girl from attempting any further
overtures.
Absorbed as he was in these regret
full reveries, a sudden sound broke il
upon him, and he started, glancing
around dazedly and wondering wheth
er he had been asleep
But no!-as he listened, breathless
the sound was repeated; a single, deeI
clang of the church bell
No wind was stirring, and he hat
the keys of the belfry; yeti was nc
trick of his Imagination, for, after c
tense interval, another dull clanl
echoed down the night; and presently
another, like the booming of funera
knell.
With n chill creeping up his spine
the gray, gnarled old man recalled {
legend that the belfry was haunted by
the ghost of a man who had wronget
q friend, and, in fit of remorse, hat
flung himself from the tower on some
OlbOllGh NJlll bdlBlt udt
known folks who spoke to hearing tht
bell toll mysteriously on Christina.
ewes before he was born, but he hat
not half believed them, and had nevel
heard 1t himself-until now.
That was it sounding agan
He was no coward nor superstitious
and swift, irresistible Impulse seizet
and drove him to fathom this strange
happening.
His very excitement braced him ant
put new strength into his limbs. Hl'
lighted lantern, and, helping hi
hating steps with stout stick, made
for the village and walked up the you'll
who assisted him in his duties.
'Dost hear yon bell, Amos?" hi
called, quaverlngly
"Ey, Mr.. Bargle," and Bargle wa'
relieved to have his hearing thus cor
roborated. "Who be it oop there,
wonner?"
Put your coat on smartly, lad. | n
goin to see"
Silent, and quaking with cold o.
nervousness, they moved nolselessl.
over the mufliing snow, turned thu
wall of the churchyard, and, Bargl'
grimly leading, filed in through thu
creaking lych gate.
The narrow path between the grave.
brought them to the porch, and her,
Bargle, who entered first, stopped
fumbling for his keys, and suddenl,
held the lantern lower with husk!
cry of alarm.
In the glimmering light Of the Ian
tern, a woman lay hudded close t
the church door, with a child rolled IL
shawl, and clasped tightly in he
arms.
"Alice! faltered the old man, "Alice!
He flung himself on his knees be
side her, crying out, clasping her COLI
hands. and appealing wildly and help
lessly to those who were with him, fo
she lay as still and unresponsive a.
If she were dead.
They took the child, which wok,
and whimpered, and dispatched AmoI
with it to the nearest cottage.