The Christmas moon was showing her cold face to the low hills called the Marlbury Downs, in the southwestern part of England known as Mid-Wessex. Here sheep were kept out on the hills all year round, and lambs were born as early as December. Shepherds needed to be on the hills day and night at this time of year, and often used small wheeled huts where they could rest and keep warm, while keeping a careful eye on the sheep.

On a high piece of land one of these huts stood inside a little circle of trees, which kept it out of the icy wind and also hidden from any passers-by. The hut was made of wood, and had a door and two windows. The north one looked out on the eight hundred sheep which were in the shepherd's care, and the south window gave a view of three ancient stones, built in the shape of a doorway. These great stones, which village people called the Devil's Door, had been there for over two thousand years. They were worn and weather-beaten, but tonight looked almost new in the silver light of the moon.

Inside the hut a young shepherd boy was waiting for his master, who entered at that moment.

"Are ye sleepy?" asked the old man crossly.

"No -- no, master," replied the boy, who was a little frightened of the shepherd and his heavy stick.

"The sheep should be all right until the morning now," said the shepherd, "but one of us must stay here, so I'll leave ye, do ye hear? I'll go home and sleep for a few hours. Run down to my cottage and fetch me if anything happens. Ye can have a bit of a sleep in the chair by the stove but only for a few minutes, mind! Make sure ye stay awake the rest of the time, and don't let that fire go out!"

The old man closed the door, and disappeared. The boy went out to check on the sheep and new-born lambs, then came back into the hut and sat down by the warm stove. Soon his eyes closed, his head dropped, and he was asleep.

When he woke up, he could hear down in the valley the clock at Shakeforest Towers striking eleven. The sound carried well in the cold night air. He looked out of the north window and saw the sheep, lying on the grass as quietly as before. He next looked out of the opposite window, towards the stones of the Devil's Door, white and ghostly in the moonlight. And in front of them stood a man.

It was clear that he was not a farm worker, because he was wearing a dark suit, and carried himself like a gentleman. The boy was still wondering, in great surprise, why the man was visiting the Devil's Door at this hour, when suddenly another figure appeared. This second figure was a woman, and when the stranger saw her, he hurried towards her. He met her near the trees, and took her into his arms.

"You have come, Harriet! Thank you!" he cried warmly.

"But not for this," replied the lady, pulling away from him. She added more kindly, "I have come, Fred, because you begged me! Why did you ask to see me?"

"Harriet, I have seen many lands and faces since I last walked these hills, but I have only thought of you."

"Was it only to tell me this that you begged me to meet you, out here on the hills, so late at night?"

"Harriet, be honest with me! I have heard that the Duke is unkind to you."

"He sometimes gets angry, but he is a good husband."

"Harriet, dearest, is that really true? Doesn't everybody know that your life with him is a sad one? I have come to find out what I can do. You are a Duchess, and I'm only Fred Ogbourne, but it's still possible that I can help you. By God! The sweetness of your voice should keep him pleasant, especially when the sweetness of your face is added to it!"

"Captain Ogbourne!" she cried, half afraid, half playful. "You're an old friend -- how can you speak to me in this way? Remember I'm a married woman! I was wrong to come, I see that now."

"You call me Captain Ogbourne," he replied unhappily, "but I was always Fred to you before. I think you no longer have any feeling for me. My love for you, Harriet, has not changed at all, but you are a different woman now. I must accept it. I can never see you again."

"You needn't talk like that, you stupid man. You can see me again -- why not? But of course, not like this. It was a mistake of mine to come tonight, and I only did it because the Duke is away at the moment."

"When does he return?"

"The day after tomorrow, or the day after that."

"Then meet me again tomorrow night."

"No, Fred, I cannot."

"If you cannot tomorrow night, you can the night after. Please let me have one more meeting before he returns, to say goodbye! Now, promise me!" He took the Duchess's hand.

"No, Fred, let go of my hand! It's not kind of you to make me feel sorry for you, and then to keep me here like this!"

"But see me once more! I have come two thousand miles to see you."

"Oh, I must not! People will talk. Don't ask it of me!"

"Then confess two things to me: that you did love me once, and that your husband is unkind to you often enough to make you think of the time when you loved me."

"Yes, I confess them both," she answered quietly.

"Come once more!" He still held her hand, and had his arm around her waist.

"Very well, then," she said finally. "I agree. I'll meet you tomorrow night or the night after. Now let me go."

He set her free, and watched her hurry down the hill towards her home, Shakeforest Towers. Then he turned and walked away. In a few minutes all was silent and empty again.

But only for a moment. Suddenly, a third figure appeared, from behind the stones. He was a man of heavier build than the Captain, and was wearing riding boots. It was clear that he had watched the meeting between the Captain and the Duchess. He had been too far away to hear their conversation and the lady's reluctant words, so to him they had the appearance of lovers. But several more years passed before the boy was old enough to understand this.

This third figure stood still for a moment, thinking. Then he went back into the trees, and came out again with his horse. He rode off, and the sound of the horse's feet on the hard ground was heard for several minutes, until it died away.

The boy stayed in the hut, his eyes still on the stones, but nobody else appeared there. Suddenly he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, which made him jump.

"Now look here, young Bill Mills, ye've let the fire in the stove go out! Well, what's happened, ye bad boy?"

"Nothing, master."

"Sheep and lambs all safe and well?"

"Yes, master."

The old shepherd spoke angrily. "Well, that's where ye're wrong. There are two new lambs out there, born just this minute, and one of the mothers is half dead! I told ye to stay awake, boy, and fetch me if I was needed! Well, what have you got to say for yourself?"

"You said that I could have a bit of a sleep! In the chair by the stove, you said!"

"Don't you speak to your elders and betters like that, young man, or you'll end up hanging from a rope at the prison! Well, ye can go home now, and come back again by breakfast time. I'm an old man, but there's no rest for me!"

The old shepherd then lay down inside the hut, and the boy went down the hill to his home in the village.