Charlemont; Or, The Pride of the Village Part 39

"Hush!" was the whispered word of Stevens, again looking round him in trepidation.

"Oh! ay!" said the other with a sly chuckle, and also in a whisper, "Mr.

Stevens--Brother Stevens--hem! I did not think. How is your holiness to-day?"

"Come aside," muttered Stevens; and, taking the arm of the incautious speaker, he led him away from the crowd and took the way out of the village. Their meeting and departure did not occasion much, if any, sensation. The visitors in the village were all too busy in discussing the drink and doctrines, pretty equally distributed, of Jerry the publican. But there was one eye that noted the meeting of the friends; that beheld the concern and confusion of Stevens: that saw their movements, and followed their departing steps.

"Take your horse--where is he?" demanded Stevens.

"Here, at hand; but what do you mean to do?"

"Nothing, but get out of hearing and sight; for your long tongue, Ben, and significant face, would blab any secret, however deep."

"Ah! did I not say that I would find you out? Did you get my last letter?"

"Ay, I did: but I'm devilish sorry, Ben, that you've come. You'll do mischief. You have always been a mar-plot."

"Never, never! You don't know me."

"Don't I?--but get your horse, and let's go into the woods, while we talk over matters."

"Why not leave the nags here?"

"For a very good reason. My course lies in that direction, so that I am in my way; while yours, if your purpose be to go back to Frankfort, will lie on the upper side. Neither of us need come back to the village."

"And you think to shuffle me off so soon, do you?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Why, give us a peep at this beauty--this Altamira of yours--at least."

"Impossible! Do not think of it, Ben; you'd spoil all. But, get the horse. These billet-heads will suspect mischief if they see us talking together, particularly when they behold your conceited action. This political landlord will surmise that you are a second Aaron Burr, about to beat up recruits to conquer California. Your big whiskers--what an atrocious pair!--with your standing collar, will confirm the impression."

The two were soon mounted, and rode into the adjoining woods. They were only a stone's-throw from the village, when Stevens alighted, followed by his companion. They hitched their horses to some swinging branches of a sheltering tree, and, going aside a few paces beyond, seated themselves upon the gra.s.s, as they fancied, in a place of perfect security.

"And now, Ben, what in truth brings you here?" demanded Stevens, in tones of voice and with a look which betrayed anything but satisfaction with the visit.

"Curiosity, I tell you, and the legs of my horse."

"Pshaw! you have some other motive."

"No, 'pon honor. I resolved to find you out--to see what you were driving at, and where. I could only guess a part from your letter to Barnabas, and that costive scrawl with which you honored me. Perhaps, too--and give my friendship credit for the attempt--I came with some hope to save you."

"Save me--from what?"

"Why, wedlock--the accursed thing! The club is in terror lest you should forget your vows. So glowing were your descriptions of your Cleopatra, that we knew not what to make. We feared everything."

"Why, Barnabas might have opened your eyes: he knew better."

"You're not married, then?"

"Pshaw! no."

"Nor engaged?"

The other laughed as he replied:--

"Why, on that head, the least said the better. The roving commission permits you to run up any flag that the occasion requires."

"Ah, you sly dog!--and what success?"

"Come, come, Ben, you must not be so inquisitive. The game's my own, you know; and the rules of the club give me immunity from a fellow-member."

"By Gad, I'll resign! I must see this forest beauty."

"Impossible!"

"Where's she? How will you prevent?"

"By a very easy process. Do you know the bird that shrieks farthest from her young ones when the fowler is at hand? I'll follow her example."

"I'll follow you to the uttermost ends of the earth, Warham!"

"Hush! you forget! Am I not Brother Stevens? Ha! ha! ha! You are not sufficiently reverent, brother. See you no divinity in my look and bearing? Hark you, Ben, I've been a sort of small divinity in the eyes of a whole flock for a month past!"

"You pray?"

"And preach!"

"Ha! ha! ha!--devilish good; but I must see you in order to believe. I must, indeed, Brother Stevens. Why, man, think of it--success in this enterprise will make you head of the fraternity--you will be declared pope: but you must have witnesses!"

"So I think; and hark ye, Ben"--laying a finger on the arm of the other--"I am successful!"

"What! you don't say so! This queen, this princess of Egypt, Cleopatra, Altamira--eh?"

"Is mine--soul and body--she is mine!"

"And is what you say? Come, come, you don't mean that such a splendid woman as you describe--such a genius, poet, painter, musician--beauty too!--you don't mean to say that--"

"I do, every bit of it."

"'Gad! what a fellow!--what a lucky dog! But you must let me see her, Warham!"

"What! to spoil all--to blurt out the truth?--for, with every disposition to fib, you lack the ability. No, no, Ben: when the game's up--when I'm tired of the sport, and feel the necessity of looking out fresh viands--you shall then know all; I'll give the clue into your own hands, and you may follow it to your heart's content. But not now!"

"But how will you get rid of me, mon ami, if my curiosity is stubborn?"

"Do as the kill-deer does--travel from the nest--go home with you, rather than you should succeed in your impertinence, and have you expelled from the club for thrusting your spoon into the dish of a brother-member."

"You're a Turk, with no bowels of compa.s.sion. But, at all events, you promise me the dish when you're done with it? you give me the preference?"