They drove at first into the older part of the town, as yet undescribed by us, nor do we now intend a description, save that the road was wide, and a considerable part of the way bordered by elms and maples, glorious with beauty in summer, but now standing like mourners shivering in the wintry air, and as they passed hailed with special looks and expressions of admiration those two fraternal elms, towering over all, like patriarchs of the vegetable world, which, once seen, none will forget.
"Huge trunks, and each particular trunk a growth
Of intertwisted fibres, serpentine,
Upcoiling, and inveterately convolved—
Nor uninformed with Phantasy and looks
That threaten the profane."
Thence, following the street that winds around the village green, and greeted by the joyous shouts of acquaintances in passing sleighs, and joining, now and then, in friendly races, they crossed the upper bridge of the Yaupáae, and leaving the shouts and merriment behind, struck into a more secluded road.
Whatever charms the conversation that passed between the young people might have for them, it would not interest the reader, and we therefore pass it over. It was such as might be expected between two youthful beings, one of whom knew he was in love, and the other began to suspect, from emotions never felt before, the commencement of a partiality that was as sweet as it was strange. To two hearts thus attached, and tuned to vibrate in harmony, all nature ministers with a more gracious service. The sun is brighter, the sky bluer, the flower more fragrant, the chime of the brook has a deeper meaning, and a richer music swells the throat of the bird. Things unobserved before, and as unconnected with the new emotion, indifferent, now assume importance. A look, a tone of the voice, a pressure of the hand, are events to dream about and feast upon. In the presence of the beloved object all things else are either unheeded or dwindle into comparative insignificance.
It will occasion no surprise, then, that Anne, engrossed with her own happiness, should hardly have observed the road taken by Pownal, or been conscious of how far they had driven, until some remark of his attracted her attention to the scenery. She then perceived that they were in the midst of the Indian settlement on the Severn, and to a playful question of Pownal, inquiring how she would like to leave her card with Queen Esther, she replied by expressing her delight at the proposition. Esther's cabin stood some little distance off from the main road, towards which a long and narrow winding track led, seldom travelled by any other vehicles than ox carts and sleds. Over the yet unbroken snow, Pownal directed the horse, the light pung plunging with every motion of the animal, and threatening to upset, causing merriment, however, rather than alarm to the occupants of the conveyance. In this manner, straining through the snow-drifts, they finally reached the dwelling of Esther. She herself, attracted by the sound of the bells, came to the door, and welcomed them with great cordiality.
"Mr. Pownal and I," cried the lively Anne, "are come to make a New-Year's call, Esther. I have not your presents with me, but the next time you are at our house, you shall have them."
"Miss Anne more'n all present," replied the pleased Esther. "She cold; she must come to the fire."
"No," said Anne, as she was being ushered by the squaw into the cabin,
"I am not cold. Why, what a nice"—but the sentence was not concluded.
Her eyes had fallen on the stately form of Holden, who sat on a bench
near to the fire.
"O, father Holden!" exclaimed the lovely girl, running up to him, throwing her arms round his neck, and kissing his forehead, "is it you? How glad I am you escaped from those abominable men. Tell me all about it. How was it? Did they do you any harm?"
At this moment, Pownal entered, and advancing, grasped the old man's hand, and congratulated him on his escape.