"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 a.s.surances 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 repet.i.tion of such scenes. "Such," said he, "are the feelings of the world, but they are not mine. So far from deserving censure, Holden is ent.i.tled 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 partic.i.p.ate in it, nor in the excitement which she felt, did his language seem other than proper for the occasion.

CHAPTER XV.

See winter comes to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad with all his rising train Vapors and clouds and storms.

THOMSON'S SEASONS.

The charming poet depicted truthfully, doubtless, as well as poetically, the English winter, but such is not the character of the season in New England. Clouds and storms, indeed, herald his advent and attend his march; capricious too his humor; but he is neither "sullen" nor "sad." No brighter skies than his, whether the sun with rays of mitigated warmth but of intenser light, sparkles o'er boundless fields of snow, or whether the moon, a faded sun, leading her festal train of stars, listens to the merry sleigh-bells and the laugh of girls and boys, ever glorified a land. What though sometimes his trumpet sounds tremendous and frowns o'erspread his face!

Transient is his anger, and even then from his white beard he shakes a blessing, to protect with fleecy covering the little seeds in hope entrusted to the earth, and to contribute to the mirth and sports of man.

A few days have pa.s.sed since the occurrences last detailed. The weather had gradually become colder; the ground was as hard as a stone; there had been a heavy fall of snow, and the streets were musical with bells. The snow had fallen before the intense cold commenced, so that the gla.s.sy surface of the ice that bridged the rivers and lakes was undimmed, and presented unusual attractions to the skaters.

It was on the afternoon of a fine day that the smooth Severn, hardened into diamond, was covered, just where the Yaupaae and the Wootuppocut unite, to give it form and an independent being, with a gay throng of the people of the village of both s.e.xes. They were mostly young persons, consisting princ.i.p.ally of boys from school (for it was Sat.u.r.day afternoon) with their sisters. Besides these were some young men and women, with here and there one more advanced in years.

It was a scene of gaiety and exuberant enjoyment. The children let loose from school, where they had been confined all the week, put no bounds to the loud and hilarious expression of their delight, which the seniors showed no disposition to check--remembering they once were children--and the banks of the stream rung with shouts and answering cries and laughter. Here, flying round in graceful curves, a dexterous skater cut his name in the ice; there, bands of noisy boys were playing tag, and on the ringing steel pursuing the chase; while every once in a while down would tumble some lubberly urchin, or unskillful performer, or new beginner, coming into harder contact with the frozen element than was pleasant, and seeing stars in the daytime, while bursts of laughter and ironical invitations to try it again, greeted his misfortune. In another place were girls on small sleighs or sleds, capable of holding two or three, whirled along by half-a-dozen skaters with great rapidity; while, holding on to handkerchiefs, were others drawn upon their feet at less hazardous speed. Dispersed among the crowd were little boys with flat, tin boxes suspended by a strap from their necks, containing mola.s.ses candy, whose brittle sweetness appeared to possess great attraction. All was fun and jest, and laugh and merriment.

Among others, allured by the beauty of the day, which though clear was not so cold as to be uncomfortable, to witness the sports, were Faith Armstrong and Anne Bernard, escorted by Pownal and young Bernard. The cheeks of the ladies were crimsoned by the wholesome cold, and their eyes shone with a brighter l.u.s.tre than usual, and many were the looks of envy or of admiration cast upon them as they pa.s.sed, greeting their acquaintances and joining in the revel.

At the time when the little party arrived there happened to be a circle gathered around one of the most accomplished performers to witness an exhibition of his skill, and surely nothing could be more graceful. Without sensible effort, and as if by mere volition, he seemed to glide over the glossy surface, now forwards, now backwards, now sideways, now swiftly, now slowly, whirling like an eagle in rapid or dilatory curves, describing all the lines that Euclid ever drew or imagined, and cutting such initials of the names of the spectators as were desired. The performance, though hailed with very general expressions of admiration, did not seem to give universal satisfaction.

"He does pretty well," said an elderly man, with a woollen scarf or m.u.f.fler about his neck and a fox-skin cap on his head, "He does it pretty well; but, Captain, did you ever see Sam Allen?"

"You mean," answered the person addressed, who was a man of about the same number of years, "Allen who married old Peter's daughter, and afterwards run away. Yes; it didn't go with him as slick with her as on the ice."

"Well, she didn't break her heart about it. She got married agin as soon as the law allowed. I was in court when Judge Trumbull granted the divorce. 'Twas for three years willful desartion and total neglect of duty."

"No, I guess she didn't. She was published the very next Lord's Day, and got married in the evening. She was a mighty pretty cretur. Well, I never see such a skater as Sam. This fellow is nothing at all to him. He don't kind o' turn his letters so nice. Now, there's that v, you might mistake it for a w. I like to see a man parfect in his business."

"I've hearn tell," said the Captain, "though I never see it myself, that Sam could write Jarman text as well as Roman."

"I never see it," said the Fox-skin cap, "but guess it's so. There wasn't nothing Sam couldn't do on skates."

"Do you recollect whether he used smooth irons or hollow?" inquired the Captain.

"Oh, smooth; they ain't so easy for beginners, but when a fellow gits the knack of 'em they're a great deal better."

Very different from the remarks of these _laudatores temporis acti_, were those of the rising generation.

"How beautiful!" exclaimed Anne. "What wonderful skill! Can anything be more graceful?"

"It is, indeed, graceful," said Faith; "and it must require considerable boldness as well as skill to venture on some of those evolutions. The least mistake would cause a violent fall."

"Dear Faith, why did you mention it?" said Anne. "I was not thinking of the possibility of falls."

"Have no fear," said Pownal; "he is too completely master of the science to hurt himself."

"In Holland the ladies are said to skate as well as the gentlemen,"

said Bernard.

"That is a poor compliment, William," said Anne. "If I cannot skate better without practice, than half of this awkward squad, I will never bind skates on my feet a second time."