Year: 1874

|
tween him and death-nothing rose
were to destroy him, but the sweet face
of Lily De We're, whom he loved. She
had knelt at Cromwell's feet and pleaded
for his life. She had wearied Heaven
with her prayers, but all without avail.


Slowly now the great sun went down.
Slowly the last red rim was hid behind
the green wood. Thirty seconds more
and the curfew would ring. Thirty sec
onds more and his soul would be with
his God. The color did not forsake his
cheeks. The dark rings of hair lay on
a warm brow. 1t was his purpose to die
as martyrs and brave men die. What
was life that he should cling to it ?
What was death that he should shrink
from it? He almost felt the air pulsate
with the first heavy roll of the death
lnell. But no sound came. Still fac
ing the soldiers with his clear, gray
eye upon them, he waited. The Grim
son banners in the west We're paling to
pink. The kline had ceased their low
ing, and had been gathered into the rick
yards.


All nature had sounded her curfew !;
but old Jasper WAS silent


The bell-ringer with his gray head
yet barred had tlaversed 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 around it, and hair that
the low western lights touched and tint
ed as with halo.


"Ah Huldah, Huldah I" the old man
muttered "how swift she flies | will
come soon, dear. My work is almost
done" Huldah was the good wife, who
had gone from him in early woman
hood, and for whom he had mourned all
his long life. But the fleeing form was
not Huldah's, it was Lily DeVere, hur-
ried by sudden and desperate purpose
toward the old cathedral


$50 help me God, curfew shall not
ring tonight! Cromwell and his dra-
goons come this way. Once more will
kneel at his feet and plead"


She entered the ruined arch. She
wrenched from its fastenin9s the carved
and 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 de-
Everance from peril. The bats flew out
and shook the dust of centuries from
the black carvings. AS she went up,
she caught glimpses of the interior of
the great building, with its groined
roof, its chegrons and clustered col
umns, its pictured saint and carved
image of the Virgin, which the pillagers
of all ages had spared to be dealt with
by time, the most relentless Vandal
of all.


Up-still up-beyond the rainbow
tints 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 cornice, with all the hid
eousness of medieval carving; the
stairs, fight by fight, growing Trailer
beneath her young feet; but slender
fretwolk between her and the outer
world; but still up.


Her breath was 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 We're
treasures which Cromwell, with all his
blood bought Commonwealth, could not
purchase from her. Still up-ah-
there, just above her, with its great
brazen mouth and wicked tongue, the
bell hungl


A worm eaten block for step, and
one small, white hand clasped itself
above the clapper-the other prepared,
at the first tremble, to rise and clasp it's
mate, and the feet to swing off Jasper
was old and slow-but he was sure, and
it came at last. A faint quiver, and the
tender young feet swing from their
rest, and the tender hands clasped for
more than their precious life, the writh-
ing thing There was groaning and
creaking of the rude pulleys above, and
then the strokes came heavy and strong.
Jaspers hand had not lost its cunning,
nor his arm its strength. The tender,
soft form was swung and dashed to and
fro. 1t was bruised by the brazen sides
and tortured by the unshapely tongue.
But she clung to and caressed the cold,
cruel thing. Let one stroke come and
thousand might follow-for it's fatal
work would be done. She writhed her
white arm about it, 50 that at everypull
of the great ropes it crushed into the
flesh. 1t tore her, and wounded and
bruised-but there in the solemn twi-
tiC DlaNC NOuluu
fought with the cruel 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 for my old
arm. My ears, too, have failed me at
last. | dinna hear one stroke of the
curfew. Dear old bell, it is my ears
that have gone false and not thou.
Farewell, old friend"


And just beyond the worn pavement
shadowy form again went fitting past
him. There were drops of blood upon
the white garments, and the 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 horsemen
under the dlsmantled Maypole before
the village green. He saw the man who
was to die at sunset standing up in the
dusky air, tall as king aud beautiful
as Absalom. He gazed with knitted
brow and angry eye, but his lips did not
give utterance to the quick command
that trembled ON them, for young
girl came flying toward him. Pikemen
and archer stepped aside to let her pass.
She threw herself upon the turf at his
horses feet; she lifted her bleeding
and tortured hands to his gaze, and
once more poured out her prayer for
| the life of her lover; with trembling
| lips she told him Why Richard still