The Cecil Whig

THE WAY-SIDE BELL

"Oh! many a winter night I've wept
And sigh'd to hear them tell,
With quivering lip and upward glance,
The legend of the bell."

On the borders of a dreary wood, in the neighborhood of Germany, stands a way-side chapel. The bell is only tolled when a funeral goes past. The tolling of a bell is always a melancholy sound, but this, although loud, and capable of being heard at a great distance, has a peculiar sad and solemn cadence, as if it knew it was never, in future, to speak of anything but death.

In a neat and pleasant cottage not far from the chapel, there lived at the time of which we write, a young man, called Paul Vanderpant. For many generations his family occupied the same house, and tolled that same melancholy bell, at intervals, few and far between; while many legends of the now fast decaying chapel passed from father to son, and were repeated with white lips, around the midnight hearth.-- More than once it had chanced that the narrator was interrupted in the most interesting part of those wild tales, and was obliged to go forth into the dark night, to certify to the living, by means of the way-side bell, that the dead were going past to their long home.

The present proprietor, however, was of too practical a turn for tales or legends, he had no belief in spirits and used to laugh at them in a way that made the old folks' blood of the place shudder. Sir Paul Vanderpant of late began to entertain serious thoughts of marriage; but it is not good to be alone, it was assuredly some other sentiment than fear which engrossed him, or he would not have made choice of Gertrude Hoffman for a companion, indeed he thought with one of themselves, that there is no surer defence against the power of the evil one than love to one another and trust in God.

Gertrude was the eldest child of a poor widow, who occupied an adjoining cottage. She spun and sewed, and made lace, tended and arranged flowers, which her little brother, Eric, sold at the market place, nursed and waited upon her aged mother, or romped and laughed with her young sister, Lis. She was never idle--never out of spirits, and her sweet voice he heard, from morning till night, singing at her wheel, or among her flowers, or as she passed fearlessly through that dreary wood, where few cared to be after night-fall. Gertrude feared nothing but doing wrong. Sometimes the poor girl fancied that it might be wrong to be always thinking of Paul Vanderpant: for dearly as she loved her own little circle she could not but feel that he was dearer than all to her, for it is strange how such affections outgrow the love of kindred! And many a time she has knelt down all alone in the way-side chapel, and prayed to God to keep her from idols! But Paul was worthy of her, and her influence--for, oh, how great is a mother's influence who loves and is loved!--fell upon him like a blessing.

Widow Hoffman had seen a great deal of trouble in her day, and although, for her children's sake, she still clung to life, there was a shadow over her heart that would not suffer her to enjoy it as she once had done. From this cause she had a habit of talking of the world as if it were a very sad and weary place--to all of which Gertrude listened with filial reverence and an incredulous smile. It seemed a beautiful world for all, and its few days its wilderness wanderings, make us to prize the sunlight, and the flowers all the more--or, better still, we cast our affections from earth to that bright far off land, where there will be no more sighing or sorrow. Gertrude's creed was--Let us enjoy and be grateful for the present and trust to Him who knoweth what is best for us, whether it be good or evil.

Paul Vanderpant, as we have said, was no believer in the supernatural, nor Gertrude either, although the deep reverence of her nature made his mockery appear painful, and for her sake, he ceased to jest upon such themes as he had once done.

"After all," said Gertrude, upon one occasion when the conversation chanced to turn upon the subject, "there are many things constantly happening around us, which are too well authenticated to be denied, and too strange to be explained. I certainly do not believe in ghosts, but I as certainly believe that nothing is impossible to God."

Lily, who had all a young girl's love of the marvellous and romantic, asked Paul if he had ever seen the spirit which was said to haunt the little way-side chapel, of which mention has before been made.

"No never and I have been there at all hours. But what is it like, that I may know in case we should ever meet!"

"Like a woman, they say, dressed all in white, with her long hair floating on her shoulders."

"Who says so Lily?"

"Nonsense! How provoking you are! But surely you know the Legend?"

"Not I" replied Paul carelessly.

"She is said" continued Lily, without heeding his incredulous smile, "to have been the only daughter of a proud and wealthy baron, who wanted to force her into a marriage with one whom she never could have loved, even if she had not been, as she was secretly betrothed to a young brave knight, with no fortune but his sword. To avoid this hateful marriage, the lovers fled away one moonlight night; but somehow the baron got to hear of it, and burning with rage set spurs to his horse, and overtook them just opposite the way side chapel in which the lady sought refuge. She was kneeling and praying before the altar when her father entered hastily, with his sword drawn and covered with blood, and she knew by that, as well as by the expression of his countenance, that all was over. For a moment the old baron was startled by a wild and shrill shriek, and he advanced, after a pause, and lifted her from the ground where she had fallen--he found she was dead her heart had broken. The body of the young knight is said to have been secretly interred somewhere within the precincts of the chapel while that of his betrothed was conveyed back to the splendid burial place of her ancestors--but every night her spirit comes to weep over the lonely grave of her murdered lover"

And did you really ever hear or see anything asked the little Eric of Paul Vanderpant as his sister concluded her narrative.

"Yes--I remember now. One night I was sitting alone in my little cottage when I distinctly heard these deep groans, succeeded by a heavy fall without.

"And what did you do'" asked the boy creeping closer to him, and fixing his large eyes eagerly on his countenance.

"I did not go directly out but gently the door. There was nothing to be seen, although, be sure, the night was dark. That, however, had not hurt my sight, that the groaning was not repeated in somewhat fainter away.

"How frightened you must have been." said Lily

"I was startled, I confess, and this time I took the lamp with me, but when I opened the door there came another gust of wind and blew it out so that I was no better off than before. In stepping over the threshold I stumbled against something which lay prostrate on the ground, and another heavy groan succeeded. It was a poor wandering pedlar who had lost his way, and was half frozen to death by the cold so that he had not even sufficient strength left to demand admittance at the door to which the night burning wind had providentially directed him."

"Then it was no Ghost after all?" exclaimed Eric, with a disappointed air.

"We might have suspected as much" observed his sister Lily

Gertrude put her hand into her lover's and smiled. "Did the poor man recover, she asked.

"Yes, and you will doubtless see him some day, for he never passes by this way without calling."

Suppose that you had sat still and feared to open the door," said Lily, "I am sure I should."

"I hope not," answered Paul: "for then the poor old man must have perished with the cold; as Gertrude says, we should fear nothing but God."

Lily smiled and remained silent, for she well knew that whatever Gertrude said, or thought, or did, was sure to be right in the eyes of Paul, and the young girl wondered if ever she had a lover--a possibility which she often seriously contemplated--whether it would ever be as Lily said

"Time enough sweet Lily. Thou art little more than a child, as yet, although thou wouldst toss thy pretty head, and curl thy small rosy lips, if anybody should venture to tell thee so."

Assisted by her mother and sister, Gertrude spun all her household linen, and arranged her simple wardrobe against the now fast approaching period which had been fixed upon for their wedding to take place. It was so delightful to think that she was not to be separated from her family, but could see them every day and go in and out of the old cottage, and ascertain that her mother had everything comfortably, and put Lily in the way of doing many things that would seem strange to her at first, for that active and busy Gertrude had been hitherto the presiding spirit of her cheerful home. There were one or two little articles however, which Gertrude wanted to complete her trousseau, and which could not be procured nearer than the market town of S---, situated at the extremity of the wood, about five miles off--but she knew the path well, having been that way many times.

Accordingly, one fine morning Gertrude started for S-, accompanied by Lily who as their mother appeared unusually anxious about them that morning, asked permission to go with her sister for there was nothing that Lily enjoyed more than going to S--, which small as it was, seemed to her like another world

Paul Vanderpant prophesied that there would be a heavy fall of snow before night but it certainly did not look like it then. "I was agreed, however, that in case he should be right, the sisters were to sleep at the house of a distant relative who resided in the town, and Paul was to come over the next morning and fetch them home. It would have been glad to have accompanied them, could he have found time, but if the truth must be told, even Gertrude was not sorry that he did not, for she had as we have said, several little parcels to make and men are sadly in the way upon those occasions?

Lily laughed heartily as she stood warmly muffled for their long walk, and watching the sunny sunlight glittering upon her bright golden hair "Be sure that you bring the sleigh, Paul," she exclaimed, "for the snow will certainly be too deep to admit of our walking back?"

"We shall see," replied Paul Vanderpant good-humouredly.

"I would lay you a wager, we are home to-night," persisted Lily.

"I hope so if it be without danger. But Gertrude, dearest you will be careful for my sake?"

Gertrude answered in a low voice, and joining her sister a few moments afterwards they passed into the thick wood and were soon out of sight, although their merry voices, and Lily's clear, ringing laugh, lingered in the air for several moments, and then died gradually away.

Notwithstanding that they are constantly together, it is astonishing how many things sisters always have to talk about--especially when it happens, as the present case, that one is on the eve of marriage." What bright plans were arranged: What full happy hours of future happiness! How the real and the ideal mingle together in their thoughts and words, which, wander as they will "yet come back to the one home. How Lily talked and laughed, and praised Paul Vanderpant: and how Gertrude smiled and listened, loved her for that praise The time passed so pleasantly, they could scarcely believe that they had indeed come to the termination of that dreary woods, and were entering into the little market town S---. Nor had they conceived how the beauty of the morning had fled away, and the atmosphere gradually darkened and thickened and the clouds.

Their simple purchases were soon made--indeed, as much as Lily could, she sought to have a load. They then went to visit their relative, who received them with joy.

"I think we shall have some snow," said she, as they sat at dinner."

"It does look like it now, to be sure," observed Lily. "How Paul will triumph to find that he was right after all"

"Do you think the snow will be much" asked Gertrude.

"Not till sunset"

"And we shall be home by then."

"And if you wish to return to-night," said their hostess, "I would advise your losing no time about it."

"Let us go." exclaimed Lily, 'if it is only to tease Paul, I do not believe it will snow--at least not before we reach home: we'll walk fast as we did this morning."

Gertrude was also desirous of returning, for she well knew her mother would be fancying all sorts of improbable things, and have no rest, if they did not come, although they tarried at her own request. Accordingly, the sisters took a hasty leave of their kind relatives, and commenced their journey homeward. The cold was intense, and a sharp easterly wind came full in their faces, sometimes in violent gusts almost to bear them back again, while the withered branches creaked and groaned as they bent beneath the blast.

"This is anything but pleasant," said Lily, as she paused a moment to recover breath and wrap the folds of her cloak closer around her. "But at any rate there is no snow, and we shall yet laugh at Paul for a false prophet."

As she spoke, a large white snow-flake drifted by her Down and down came the flakes, until at length she declared that she felt too tired to go any further. It was in vain that Gertrude endeavored to cheer her, and a fatal lethargy was stealing over her senses.

"Oh, Lily" exclaimed her sister, "do try and get up. It does not snow quite so heavy now, and perhaps we may be able to find the path. We cannot be far from home; at any rate we will be warmer walking about."

"What were you saying about home, sister, for your voice sounds a great way off, and I feel so sleepy. I do not think that I shall ever see home again."

"Hush, dearest! only try and arouse yourself. Lily, speak to me! Lily! Lily!"

There was no answer.

"If she sleeps now," murmured Gertrude, she will wake no more. O God, be merciful! Save her-save us both! My poor mother! My dear Paul!' And the poor little girl lifted up her clasped hands and wept. She took off her warm cloak and spread it over Lily--There was nothing else she could do. God alone could help them. "His will be done," said Gertrude, And as she knelt and prayed, a strange calm came over her, and her heart was filled with trust.

"He knowest best," thought she. "He will comfort them. And yet, if it were His will to spare us a little longer-we are too young to die; but thy will, O God, not mine be done!"

"The girls will not be home now," said widow Hoffman to her son, as she glanced at the clock, and then at the snow-covered casement, as well as she could in the darkness. "I am glad that I thought of their staying at S---.

You can go to bed, Eric, dear."

He obeyed her, and was asleep in a moment.

But his mother could not rest; so she opened her large clasped Bible and read pausing at intervals to listen to the whisperings of the snow as it drifted along the window panes.

Paul Vanderpant, assured of the safety of his beloved, went to bed, thinking what a merry walk they should have on the following day back from S-, and how he would take his for having ventured to doubt his word. In about ten minutes he was suddenly aroused by some one knocking at the door, and distinctly heard the sweet voice of Gertrude bidding him get up

As soon as possible be and toll the chapel bell.

Paul was soon dressed, and went forth wondering what should bring Gertrude so soon home: and, above all, why they should venture home on such a night. "Thank God, she is safe" murmured he. They must have heard of the funeral at S-m, and she came herself to tell me, that I might know that she had returned in safety. Dear, thoughtful Gertrude! It was while light for a funeral, anyhow,' added Paul. as he entered the way-side chapel and began to ring the bell.

It was above a year since the bell had been heard before Many started out of their sleep at the sound of its melancholy voice, and murmured a hasty prayer; others slept on, and dreamed of it. The widow as she sat alone in her little chamber, shuddered with a strange fear. (Gertrude sprang up from the cold ground, where she had seen nothing close beside her sister, and where she would probably soon have slept, with a cry of joy. God had heard her prayers, and sent the voice of the way-side bell, to guide her homeward through the snow; and she knew, by the good, that it could not be very far off. The young girl felt endowed with supernatural strength: and lifting the slight form of her sister in her arms--for, she would rather have died with her than have left her behind-she toiled forward in the direction from which the sound seemed to come. Now she diverged from the right path, and the voice of the bell grew fainter and fainter: and then, again, it tolled more and more loudly and distinctly, and as she caught a glimpse of the light in her mother's cottage, it ceased altogether, as though it knew its mission was ended.

Having rung the accustomed time, Paul Vanderpant quitted the chapel, and proceeded homeward. The snow had ceased to fall, and he saw, to his surprise, directly before him, a female figure, slightly clad, and bearing, as it seemed, some burden. Slowly it toiled on, staggering beneath the weight it bore, and at length, sank within a few paces of widow Hoffman's cottage.

For a moment, Paul thought of the wild legend which Lily had told him concerning the spirit of the way-side chapel: but it was only for a moment -in the next he had sprang forward, and was kneeling beside the forms of Gertrude and her sister.

We will not attempt to describe the scene that followed, or endeavor to explain, or to add a single remark of our own to the above simple and truthful narrative: but content ourselves with adopting and believing Gertrude's own sweet creed, that nothing is impossible to God

The wedding of Paul Vanderpant and Gertrude Hoffman took place in the early spring, and Lily was sufficiently recovered to be her sister's bridesmaid.