"that it was Orrin's hand which handled the
saw?"

And then I perceived that it was time for me to speak. So I raised my
voice and told my story, and as I told it the wonder grew on every
face and the head of each man slowly drooped till we all stood with
downcast eyes. For crime had never before been amongst us or soiled
the honor of our goodly town. Only the Colonel still stood erect; and
as the vision of his outstretched arm and flaming eyes burned deeper
and deeper into my consciousness, I stammered in my speech and then
sobbed, and was the first to lift the silent form of the beauteous
dead and bear it away from the spot denounced by one who had done so
much for her happiness and had met with such a bitter and
heart-breaking reward.

And where did we finally lay her? In that spot--ah! why does my blood
run chill while I write it--where she stood when she took that oath to
the Colonel, whose breaking caused her death.

A few words more and this record must be closed forever. That night,
when all was again quiet in the village and the mourners no longer
went about the streets, Lemuel, Ralph, and I went for a final visit to
the new stone house. It showed no change, that house, and save for the
broken scaffolding above gave no token of its having been the scene of
such a woful tragedy. But as we looked upon it from across its
gruesome threshold Lemuel said:

"It is a goodly structure and nigh completed, but the hand that began
it will never finish it, nor will man or woman ever sleep within its
walls. The place is accursed, and will stand accursed till it is
consumed by God's lightning or falls piecemeal to the ground from
natural decay. Though its stones are fresh, I see ruin already written
upon its walls."

It was a strong statement, and we did not believe it, but when we got
back to the village we were met by one who said:

"The Colonel has stopped the building of the new house. 'It is to be
an everlasting monument,' he says, 'to a rude man's pride and a sweet
woman's folly.'"

Will it be a monument that he will love to gaze upon? I wot not, or
any other man who remembers Juliet's loveliness and the charm it gave
to our village life for one short year.

* * * * *

What was it that I said about this record being at an end? Some
records do not come to an end, and though twenty years have passed
since I wrote the above, I have cause this day to take these faded
leaves from