Celia. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau,
Rosalind. With his mouth full of news.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

“You strike dreadful hard, Missa Gladding. If you can’t write, I guess you can make you mark,” said the General, rubbing his shoulders.

“I was larned to do one, and t’other come natural,” said Tom, laughing; “but I didn’t lay it on a bit too hard. You see I had to bring him a pretty good polt, so as to lay him flat, else he might ha’ found it all out, the good-for-nothing son-of-a-gun, to go to sarve a warrant on an old man, just for speaking his mind in meeting. I go in for liberty. And then to insult you and me, Prime, by asking us to help him! But I didn’t mean to strike you, except in the way of friendship.”

“You friendship too smart for me, Missa Gladding, and s’pose I break my neck in de fall, what you friendship good for den?”

“But you hain’t broke nothing but your leg, and I see you’ve got another rigged, and the half dollar Basset give you will more’n pay for that; though, if I was you, I’d come down upon him in damages for the loss ’twas in his sarvice and then his digging his head right into your stomach, when he come thundering into the boat, I call a regular assault and battery.”

“How you like you cold duck wid sea-weed saace, Missa Gladding?” retorted Primus; and here the two united in peals of laughter.

“Cunning fellow, dat Basset,” said Primus. “He kill two bird wid one stone knock me into de bottom ob de boat, and chuck you oberboard, all at once.” And the merriment was renewed.

“Do you think he has any suspicions, Prime!” said Tom.

“Dat question acquire some reflexum,” answered the General. “Whedder it was old Holden or de fisherman ghost dat gib him de strike on de back?”

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean whether he thought you or me had anything to do with it.”

“I guess not,” said the General, doubtingly. “If sich an idée git into his head, somebody will put it dere.”

“Well, what did he say coming home?”

“Not much; dere he set in front, wid his back to me, rowing, and his head all tie up wid my bandanna, and he seem sort o’ snarl up, as if he want a night’s rest to take de kinks out ob him. He was not much ’cline to ‘greeable conversashum. I feel kind o’ sorry when I see him so mellancholliky like.”

“You needn’t be so liberal with your sorry. The scamp desarves it all and more, too. The cretur’s cheated us out of half our fun.” How I should ha’ liked to leave him, as we intended, alone with old Holden on the island! The chicken-hearted booby would ha’ half died o’ fright, and then ‘twould ha’ been worth nuts to see how he looked when the old man caught him in the morning, and asked after his business.”

“He nebber stay till dat time. He would hab swum ’cross de channel, and run home.”

“Well, he’d found out, then, how a fellow likes to be soused in the water, as the blundering blunderbus did me, darn him.”

“O, nebber bear no malice. I ’scuse Basset ’cause he don’t know no better, and you must forgib him.”

“As to that, you needn’t fret your gizzard. But how did you git home, Prime, with your broken leg?”

“Dat is a secret atween me and Basset; but I didn’t walk.”

“Then, I vow,” said Tom, bursting into a laugh, “he either trundled you along in a wheelbarrow, like a load o’ pumpkins, or else carried you on his back.”

“Nobody roll me in a wheelbarrow,” said the General, drawing himself up, and affecting to be offended.

“I would ha’ given all my old shirts to see a darkey riding Basset,” said Tom, whose merriment increased the more he dwelt on the idea.

“A colored pusson as light complexum as a white man in de dark,” exclaimed Primus, grinning.

“Well, old Prime, you’re the cleverest nigger I ever did see,” said Tom, slapping him on the back, and still laughing; “but take care you don’t feel too proud after your ride. Put a nigger on horseback, and you know where he goes. But what have you got there?” he inquired, seeing the General draw a paper out of his pocket.

“Dis paper fall out ob Missa Basset hat when de ghost strike him last night, and I pick him up.”

“Golly! if it ain’t the warrant. Prime, you’re the ace o’ clubs. I’m gladder of this than if I found a good dinner.”

“Well, what shall I do wid him?”

“Why, man, burn it up; it’s the constable’s sword and gun, and baggonit and cartridge-box; he can’t do nothing without it; why, without the warrant, he’s just like a cat without claws. He daresn’t touch a man without a warrant.”

“If Missa Basset trow de paper away, I ’spose he don’t want him, and he ain’t good for noting, and nobody can find fault wid me for burning up a little piece ob waste paper, just to kindle de fire,” said Primus, throwing the warrant into the flames, where it was immediately consumed.

“There, we’ve drawn Basset’s eye-teeth now,” said Gladding. “Holden’s as safe as you or me. And, Prime,” he added, rising, and, as he took leave, making a peculiar gesture with the thumb of his right hand touching the end of his nose, and his fingers twinkling in the air, “you’re too old a fox to need teaching, but it will do no harm to say I advise you to keep as dark as your skin.”

Such was the conversation that, on the morning after the adventure of the island, took place at the cabin of Primus, and the reader will now perfectly understand (if, indeed, he has not before discovered it) the relation which the associates bore to the constable. Yet, there was some difference in the feelings of the two: Gladding felt only unmitigated contempt for Basset, while the good-nature of the negro (proverbial of the race) infused some pity into the sentiment.

“Tom Gladding hab no manners,” said Primus to himself, after the departure of his friend. “It is bery onpleasant to hear sich pussonal inflections. But, probumbly, arter he keep company wid me a little longer, he larn better.”

How it got out, nobody could tell. Tom and the General both declared they had said nothing about it, and Basset was equally positive he had not opened his mouth. It is, therefore, singular that, before twelve o’clock the next day, rumors of the adventure had reached the ears of more than one-half the inhabitants of Hillsdale. True, none were very accurate, nor did any two agree; for, as is apt to happen, in such cases, each one who told the story took care, most conscientiously, it should lose nothing in the repetition. Hence, before noon, it was, like most of our modern literature, “splendidly embellished.”

It was not strange, then, that the doctor, in his morning round among his patients and friends, should get some inkling of it. Divested of ornaments, enough remained to satisfy him that an attempt to arrest Holden had been made. For the cause, he was at first at a loss; for, though he had heard of the disturbance at the conference, he hardly supposed that an offence which he regarded as so venial, would have drawn along such serious consequences. But when he heard that generally assigned as the reason, having no words of his own to express his astonishment, he was obliged to resort to his unfailing treasury

“’Can such things be,
And overcome us like a summer cloud,
Without our special wonder?’”

The quotation did not seem fully to answer the purpose, and he added, “Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun: it shines everywhere.” This gave him relief. It acted more soothingly than his own anodyne drops; and, having thus recovered his equanimity, he determined to ascertain if the Armstrongs had heard the news.

He found Miss Armstrong at home, but not her father.

“You have heard the news, Faith, this morning. I suppose?” said the doctor.

“No; we are not much like the Athenians. Neither my father nor myself are accustomed to get the first edition. What is it, doctor?”

But the doctor did not relish being called, by the remotest implication, an Athenian. As inquisitive as the most prying Yankee is said to be, he stoutly repelled the imputation of inquisitiveness, as applied to himself or to his countrymen. “It was,” he was in the habit of saying, “a slander invented by your porter-guzzling Englishmen and smoking Dutchmen. What can you expect of people who are involved in a perpetual cloud either of their own raising or of the making of Providence? They are adapted to circumstances. It never was intended they should have more than one idea a week; it would be too much for their constitution; and therefore they ask no questions. No wonder, then, they feel uncomfortable when they get into a clear climate, where they can see the sun, and hear ideas buzzing about their ears like a swarm of bees.”

The doctor appeared to have forgotten his own question, and not to have heard Miss Armstrong’s.

“You are looking remarkably well,” he said. “You ought to be ashamed to meet me: if everybody else were like you, I should starve.”

“All your own fault, dear doctor. Your presence brings cheerfulness and health.”

“To say nothing of the medicine. Of that (in confidence between us), the less the better. If I should ever become crazy enough to prescribe any other than bread pills, be sure to throw them out of the window. There, you have the secret of medical success; though if I pursue the system much longer, I think I shall be obliged to adopt the Emperor of China’s plan, and require a salary for your health, on condition it shall stop when you are sick.”

“I admire the Emperor’s plan, so let it be understood that is the arrangement between us. I have the best of the bargain, for I shall secure a greater number of visits.”

“You provoking creature! smothering me with compliments, and pretending you are not dying with curiosity. This is always the way with your tormenting sex:

’Let Hercules do what he may,
The cat will mew’”

“And girls will have their way,” interrupted Faith, laughing, and finishing the quotation to suit herself. “But, doctor, you have conquered, and please now ‘unmuzzle your wisdom.’”

“Methinks,” cried the doctor, “’sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man; but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit,’ else I should not allow you to tease me. But,” added he, in a more serious tone, “there is a report in the village that an attempt has been made to arrest Holden.”

“To arrest whom?” exclaimed Faith, turning pale, “father Holden! For what?”

“He is not taken yet, and, were one to believe all the stories one hears, not likely to be. According to them, his enchanted castle on Salmon Island is protected, not only by his own stalwart arm, but by legions of ghosts and hobgoblins; and, since that is the case, he may safely defy the posse comitatus itself, with the sheriff at its head. But, for the cause

“’It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,
Let me not name it to you, ye chaste stars,
It is the cause’

Why, because he made the most interesting speech at conference the other evening.”

Miss Armstrong, whom the jesting manner of the doctor somewhat re-assured, begged him to give her all the information he had obtained; but, throwing aside what he considered the embellishments of fancy, it was no more than what he had already imparted.

“What would be the punishment for such an offence?” inquired Faith.

“I am more learned in pills than in points of law; but I suppose some trifling fine.”

“It would be of no great consequence, were it any one else,” said Faith; “but it would grieve me to have Mr. Holden subjected to an indignity he would feel sensibly. It was through my father’s and my entreaties he attended the meeting, and if censure is to fall anywhere, it ought to alight on us, and not on him, who certainly supposed he was performing a duty, however much he might be mistaken. Dear doctor, I shall trust in you to watch that no harm befalls him. I should forever reproach myself as the cause, if any did.”

“You may rely on me, my dear. It is not so much on account of the old fellow, who richly deserves to be fined and shut up a week for running about the country and frightening the children with his long beard why my horse started at it the other day but because you take an interest in him, and I am above all jealousy; therefore, command me,

’Be’t to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curled clouds; to thy strong bidding task
Ariel and all his quality.”

“My commands will not be so difficult to perform, I trust,” said Faith, smiling.

“Understand me metaphorically, parabolically, poetically,” cried he, taking leave.

After he was gone Miss Armstrong sat musing over what she had heard. The idea that any annoyance should happen to the Solitary, growing out of a circumstance with which she was in some manner connected, distressed her exceedingly, and, dissatisfied with the meagre statement of the doctor, she determined to go over to Judge Bernard’s, to try to procure more satisfactory information.

“He will, at least,” she said, “be better acquainted with the law than Doctor Elmer, and there is no favor he will refuse me.”

But the Judge was unable to add anything of importance. He had heard the same rumors, but could not vouch for their truth. With regard to the issuing of a warrant for such a cause, he could not say but that persons might be found malignant enough to get one out, and justices of the peace foolish and ignorant enough to be made their instruments, but if it came to the worst, the penalty could only be a fine, which he would gladly pay himself.

“He cannot be imprisoned then?” inquired Miss Armstrong.

“No; they would not dare,” he said, to himself in a tone so low that Faith could catch only a word or two here and there, “send him disorderly no settlement no, no too bad might be done. No, Faith,” he said, “you need anticipate no serious trouble about your protege.”

“Cannot we prevent his being arrested? It would mortify him exceedingly.”

“For that, perhaps, there is no remedy, but we will see. We are all equally amenable to the laws. But after all, the thing may not be noticed. These may be only rumors put out by some mischievous person to keep Holden away from the village.”

“They can have no such effect.”

“No: and yet the rogue who invents them may think they will.”

“I should not be at all anxious, Faith,” said Anne. “Here are my father, and yours, and my chivalrous brother, and ”

“And Mr. Thomas Pownal,” said Faith, smiling, observing she hesitated.

“Yes, and Mr. Pownal; I am sure they would all be happy to spend a great deal of breath and a little money in your service. They will protect Father Holden. What are the gentlemen good for, if they cannot grace a fair lady thus far?”

“And Mistress Anne, should they fail, would, like another Don Quixote, with lance in rest, charge the enemy, and release the captive knight, herself,” said her father, pinching her cheek.

“Like Amadis de Gaul, father, and then would I present the captive of my sword and lance to you, Faith, though what you would do with him I do not know.”

“Do not let us hear of swords and lances from you, Anne,” said her mother. “Thimbles and needles become you better.”

“If I had been a man,” exclaimed Anne, “and lived in the olden time, how I would have gloried in such an adventure! You, Faith, should have been the distressed damsel, I the valorous knight, and Father Holden a captured seneschal. How would I have slashed around me, and how would you have blushed, and hung about my neck, and kissed me, when I appeared leading by the hand your venerable servitor!”

“What! what!” cried her father, “before the seneschal?”

“He would be so old he could not see, or, if he was not, tears of joy would fill his eyes so that they would blind him,” said Anne.

“An excellent idea, my dear,” said Mrs. Bernard: “hand me my knitting-work.”

“What! a knight hand knitting-work?”

“Certainly,” said her father. “It is a knight’s business and delight, to be employed in the service of the fair.”

“Here is your knitting, mamma. I am an enchanted knight, changed by some horrible incantation into a girl,” said Anne, resuming her needle.

“Worth twice all the preux chevaliers from Bayard down,” said the Judge, kissing her blooming cheek.

“Who is in great danger of being spoiled by the flattery of her fond father,” said Mrs. Bernard, smiling.

“Dear mother, how can you speak so of an enchanted knight?”

“I will crave your aid in the hour of peril, Sir Knight,” said Faith, rising. “Meantime, accept this kiss as guerdon for your good will.”

“Or retainer,” said the Judge.

Faith left her friends in better spirits than she had met them. The assurances of Judge Bernard had relieved her mind of a weight of anxiety. It was evident, she thought, from the manner in which the subject was treated by the family, that they felt no apprehensions. The gaiety of Anne, too, had not failed of its design. It was, indeed, scarcely possible to be in the presence of this sweet girl without feeling the charm which, like the sun, radiated light and happiness about her. It was the overflow of an innocent and happy heart, and as natural to her as light to the sun, or fragrance to the rose.

Faith found her father in the house on her return. She communicated to him what she had heard, and asked his opinion. He knew, he said, that while there were some probably the majority who, regarding Holden’s conduct as only an impropriety, would be disposed to overlook it; there were others who would desire to have him punished, in order to prevent a repetition of such scenes. “Such,” said he, “are the feelings of the world, but they are not mine. So far from deserving censure, Holden is entitled to all honor and praise, for he spoke from the inspiration of conviction. Nor, whatever may be the attempts to injure him, will they succeed. As St. Paul shook the deadly viper from his hand, so will this man rid himself of his enemies. There are more with him than against him, and the shining ones are the stronger.”

The confidence of her father harmonized so well with the hopes of Faith, that it was easy to participate in it, nor in the excitement which she felt, did his language seem other than proper for the occasion.