The Mill Mystery

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erefore, left in ignorance as to the result of the conversation between the brothers, though from the softened manner of Dwight, and the quiet as

ed for the double funeral; feelings that would have been yet more alive had I realized that I should not re-ent

impressive description. I was overcome by them, and left the churchyard before the final prayer was said, feeling as if the life of the last three days

ut wandered away in an opposite direction, soothing my conscience by the thought that it was many hours yet before the servic

mind till I came to a point where an opening in the trees gave to my view the vision of two tall chimneys; when like

t I had been led there; and without a thought of what I was doing, pressed on with e

he dream of its own fearful memories. But the sight of a small piece of paper pinned or pasted on the board that had been nailed in futile precaution across the open doorway deterred me. It was doubtless nothing more important than a notice from the

ties whose position places them above suspicion, as their wealth and seeming

sight, and with a paper in my hand that seems to grow larger and larger as I gaze, and ask me what I mean to do now, and whether in tearing it from the wall where it hung, I allied myself to the accused, or by one stroke proclaimed myself that avenger which, if the words on this paper were true, I owed it to my Ada and the promise which I had given her to be? The c

rable, but love, real, true, yearning, and despotic love, which if well founded might have made my bliss for a lifetime, and which now--I thrust the paper between my lips to keep down the cry that rose there, and hiding my face deep down in the turf, mourned the weakness that made me

hich attached my thoughts to this man. The accusation was as yet too vague, and its source too doubtful, to blot his image with ineffaceable stains; but I did succeed in

om a credible person-but how could they do so and be written and posted up in the manner they were? An honest man does not seek any such rounda

mysterious death of Mr. Barrows with the family towards which this accusation evidently pointed. While my own heart beat with dread, how could I ignore the possibility of these words being the work of an accomplice disgusted with his crime, or of a tool anxious to save himself

adly hoped, they were but the expression of suspicion, rather than of knowledge, what a satisfaction it would be for m

ssful issue? The characters in which the fatal insinuations had been conveyed offered no clue. They were printed, and in so rough and commonplace a manner that the keenest mind would have found it

t of fancied difficulties by the mere exercise of their wits. Finesse was almost an unknown word to me, and yet, as I sat there with this fatal bit of paper in my hand, I felt that a power hitherto unguessed was awaken

blowing all the morning. It had, therefore, been put up a few moments before I came, or, in other words, while the funeral services were being held; a fact which, to my mind, argued a deep calculation on the part of the writer, for the hour was one

confounded with a mass of disinterested people. For I felt he would return, and soon, to note the result of his daring action. In the crowd, if a crowd assembled, or alone, if it so chanced that no one came to the spot, he would draw near the mill, and, if he found the notice gone, would betray, must betray, an interest or an alarm that would reveal him to my watchful eye. For I intended to take up my stand within the doorwa

ad I that the writer of these words was not even now in hiding, or had not been looking at me from s

otony would ever occur. The fierce dash of the storm was like a barrier, shutting me off from the rest of the world, and had my purpose been less serious, my will less nerved, I might have succumbed to the dreariness of the outlook and taken myse

ead. Honor, love, and duty were at stake, and I held to my resolution, though each passi

en half seen, made the blood cease coursing through my veins; and, when fully in view, sent it in torrents to heart and brain; so deep, so vivid, so peculiar was the relief I felt. For-realize the effect

he seemed, as in that first moment when I saw him in the summer-house, to be alive with them-were concentrated in the gaze of his large eyes, as, comin

ese gestures, sudden, determined, and full of subdued threatening, the offspring of an erratic brain or the expression of a fool's hatred? I could not believe it, and stood as if fascinated before this vision, that not only upset every past theory which

I committed myself to an interview. If he were an idiot-well, that would simplify matters much; but, if he were not, or, being one, had moments of reason, then a mystery appeared that would require all the ingenuity and tact of a Machiavelli to elucidate. The l