The young lady ran her eye hastily down the column, and could not restrain her laughter.

"Excuse me, papa," she said, "it is too much for my poor nerves. Only think of it; Mr. Peters loads Mr. Pownal's gun with sixteen buck-shot, topples him off a precipice twenty feet high, breaks three of his ribs, and makes a considerable incision in his skull. Never was there such a wonderful escape. It is too horrible."

"How the newspapers are given to big stories!" said Mrs. Bernard.

"I dare say," cried Anne, "the editor has authority for what he says, for now that my attention is drawn to it, I think there must be something in the incision. Have you not remarked, mamma, that Mr.

Pownal is at times light-headed?"

"Anne!" exclaimed her mother, smiling, "I am ashamed to hear a young girl rattle on so."

"I am not aware of being more light-headed than usual," said Pownal, "but I am certain no one can be in Miss Bernard's company, and not be light-hearted."

"Very prettily spoken! Mr. Thomas Pownal is practising his wit upon a country maiden, in order to be in training when he returns to open the campaign among the New York ladies."

"I am too happy here," said Pownal, in a low tone, "to wish to return to the city."

An almost imperceptible blush suffused the cheeks of Miss Bernard. She looked up from the newspaper, but her eyes encountering those of the young man, instantly fell.

"What fine speeches are you making to one another?" broke in the Judge. "My dear, do not hold down your head. It throws the blood into your face."

"Papa," cried his daughter, desirous to divert attention from herself, "can you find nothing instructing in the paper to read to us? Is there no report of any speech?"

"Speeches, indeed! Thank Heaven, there is no speech in this paper.

The session of Congress has not commenced, and the deluge of words, in comparison with which Noah's flood was a summer's shower, therefore, not begun. Why, my dear little daughter, do you remind me of the national calamity?"

"To atone for the offence, papa, let me tell you that Mr. Armstrong and Faith promised to come to see us this evening, and from the sound of the opening of the front gate, I suspect they are close at hand."

Anne's conjecture proved true, for shortly after the expected visitors were announced, and the usual greetings having pa.s.sed, they were all soon seated.

But before proceeding further, it may not be amiss to give some description of persons destined to play a not unimportant part in our story.

Mr. Armstrong was of middle age, of the ordinary stature, and with a face which still possessed great beauty. A n.o.ble brow, hair originally black, but prematurely grey, large dark eyes, a straight nose, and a well-formed mouth, over which played an expression of benevolence, made an exterior of exceeding attractiveness, and it would have been an unmixed pleasure to gaze upon his gracious presence, but for an air of dejection amounting to suffering, which had of late been increasing upon him. He seldom smiled, and when he did the smile was often succeeded by a dark shadow, as if he felt compunction for trespa.s.sing on the precints of gaiety.

Faith strongly resembled her father, as well in externals as in the character of her mind. Her figure was slender, approaching even to delicacy, though without any appearance of sickliness. Her face, pale and thoughtful usually, was sometimes lighted up with an enthusiasm more angelic than human. Her mother having died when she was too young to appreciate the loss, she had concentrated upon her father all that love which is generally divided between two parents. Nor was it with a feeling of love only she regarded him. With it was mixed a sentiment of reverence amounting almost to idolatry. No opinion, no thought, no word, no look of his but had for her a value. And richly was the affection of the child returned by the father, and proud was he of her, notwithstanding his struggles against the feeling as something sinful.

It was the first time since the accident to Pownal that Mr. Armstrong or his daughter had seen him, and the conversation naturally turned upon the danger he had incurred.

"It was a providential escape," said Mr. Armstrong. "It is astonishing how many dangers we run into, and our escapes may be considered as so many daily miracles to prove the interposition of a controlling Providence. There are few persons who cannot look back upon several such in the course of their lives."

"You are right, my friend," said the Judge. "I can recall half a dozen in my own experience; and if some have had fewer, some, doubtless, have had more."

"These accidents are, I suspect, the consequences of our own carelessness in nine cases out of ten," said Pownal. "At any rate, I am sure it was my carelessness that occasioned mine."

"You speak as if it could have been avoided," said Mr. Armstrong.

"Certainly. Do you not think so?"

"I am not sure of it," said Mr. Armstrong. "There appears to be a chain which links events together in an inevitable union. The very carelessness of which you accuse yourself may be the means purposely used to bring about important events."

"It has brought about very agreeable events for me," said Pownal. "I am only afraid, from the care lavished upon me, I shall be tempted to think too much of myself."

"It has scattered pleasure all around, then," said Mrs. Bernard, kindly.

"Yes," said the Judge; "any attention we can render is more than repaid by the pleasure Mr. Pownal's presence imparts. If he should ever think more highly of himself than we do, he will be a very vain person."

The young man could only bow, and with a gratified countenance return his thanks for their kindness.

"Your adventure was also the means," said Mr. Armstrong, "of making you acquainted with our anchorite. Did you not find him an interesting person?"

"More than interesting," replied Pownal. "From the moment he took me into his arms as if I had been a child, and with all the tenderness of a mother, I felt strangely attracted to him. I shall always remember with pleasure the two days I spent in his cabin, and mean to cultivate his acquaintance if he will permit me."

"He is evidently a man of refinement and education," said Armstrong, "who, for reasons of his own, has adopted his peculiar mode of life.

It was a long time before I could be said to be acquainted with him, but the more I know him, the better I like him. He and Faith are great friends."

"I value his friendship highly and am glad he made so favorable an impression on you, Mr. Pownal," said Faith.

"I do believe," cried Anne, "Faith could not reverence him more if he were one of the old prophets."

"If not a prophet," said Faith, "he is at least a n.o.ble and good man, and that is the highest t.i.tle to respect. He takes an interest in you, too, Mr. Pownal, for Anne tells me he has been to see you."

"My preserver has been here several times to make inquiries after my health," answered Pownal. "He was here this morning."

"And preaching about the kingdom," said Judge Bernard. "What a strange infatuation to look for the end of the world each day."

"He errs in the interpretation of the prophecies," said Mr. Armstrong, "when he finds in them prognostics of the speedy destruction of the world, but does he mistake the personal application? Who knows when he may be called to face his judge? Youth, and health, and strength, furnish no immunity against death."

"But what a gloom this daily expectation of an event which the wisest and stoutest hearted are unable to contemplate without trepidation, casts over life," said the Judge.

"Not in his case," replied Armstrong. "On the contrary, I am satisfied he would hail it with a song of thanksgiving, and I think I have observed he is sometimes impatient of the delay."

"It is well his notions are only crazy fancies as absurd as his beard.

His appearance is very heathenish," said Mrs. Bernard.

"Taste, my dear," exclaimed the Judge, "all taste. Why, I have a great mind to wear a beard myself. It would be a prodigious comfort to dispense with the razor in cold winter mornings, to say nothing of the ornament. And now that I think of it, it is just the season to begin."

"You would look like a bear, Mr. Bernard," said his wife.

"It would be too near an imitation of the old Puritans for you, Judge," said Faith.

"You, at least, my little Puritan," cried the Judge, "would not object. But do not fancy that in avoiding Scylla I _must_ run upon Charybdis. Be sure I would not imitate the trim moustaches and peaked chins of those old dandies, Winthrop and Endicott. I prefer the full flowing style of Wykliffe and Cranmer."

"We should then have two Holdens," exclaimed Mrs. Bernard, "and that would be more than our little village could live through."

"Fancy papa running an opposition beard against Mr. Holden!" said Anne.

The idea was sufficiently ludicrous to occasion a general laugh, and even Armstrong smiled.

"I am a happy man," said the Judge; "not only mirthful, myself, but the cause of mirth in others. What a beam of light is a smile, what a glory like a sunrise is a laugh!"