_Armado_.--By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty,
enfreedoming thy person: thou wert immured, captivated, bound.
_Costard_.--True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and
let me loose.
_Armado_.--I give thee thy liberty, set thee free from
durance; and in lieu thereof impose on thee nothing but this.
LOVE'S LABOR LOST.
By the time the court had concluded its session it was eight o'clock
in the evening. It was quite dark, and the snow was falling heavily.
When, therefore, the constable stepped into the street, holding his
prisoner by the arm, it is not surprising that he encountered but few
passengers. Those whom he did meet had their hats or caps slouched
over their brows, which were bending down upon their breasts to
protect the face from the driving snow. It was impossible, so thick
were the flakes, to see more than a few feet before one. It was a
fortunate circumstance, inasmuch, at least, as it saved the Recluse
from the humiliation of being seen by his townsmen.
The workhouse was situated at the distance of nearly a mile from the
centre of the village, on a little farm of some twenty acres, and
stood several rods apart from any inhabited house. It was the half of
a large unpainted wooden building divided into two sections, the other
half of which was used as an alms-house, and might be considered as a
sort of auxiliary or ally of the county jail, to receive those minor
offenders whom the dignity of the latter rejected.
The road Basset had to travel passed over the lower bridge of the
Yaupáae, next went up a hill, and then suddenly turning, skirted the
lake-like expanse of water, on which the building was situated. In
order, however, to reach the house, it was necessary to leave the main
road and pass down a lane of some twenty rods in length.
Together the pair proceeded through the driving snow, Basset keeping
hold of Holden, who walked meekly by his side. The fatalism of the
latter seemed to have taken entire possession of his mind, and he
probably regarded his sufferings as a necessary part of the designs
of Providence, which it would be as wicked as vain to resist. The
constable had repeatedly endeavored to engage his companion in
conversation, striving to comfort him with the opinion, that the
keeper of the quasi jail was a "clever man," and that people did not
find it as bad as they expected, and a week would quickly pass away.
"In winter," said Basset, "when it's hard to get work, I've known
many a likely young fellow do some trick on purpose to be put into the
workhouse till spring; so it can't be the worst place in the world."
Basset stretched the truth a little. He might have known or heard of
persons, who, in order to obtain warmth, and food, and shelter during
that inclement season, had committed petty crimes, but such instances
were exceedingly rare, and the offenders were anything but "likely
fellows." But Basset must be excused his leasing, for he felt lonely,
and longed to hear the sound of a human voice, and failing that of
another, was fain to put up with his own as better than none. But
Holden steadily resisted all the advances of the constable, refusing
to reply to any question, or to take notice of anything he might
say, until the latter, either wearied out by the pertinacity of his
captive, or vexed by what he considered sullenness or arrogance,
himself relapsed into silence.
They had crossed the bridge, passed up the hill, and traversed the
road along the margin of the Yaupáae, and were now just entering the
lane that runs down to the house. The storm was raging with unabated
fury, and the constable, with clenched teeth, and bent head, and
half-shut eyes, was breasting the driving flakes, and congratulating
himself with the idea that his exposure would soon be over, and he
by the side of a warm stove in one of the stores, the hero of the
evening, recounting the adventures of the day and comfortably taking
his cheerful glass, when suddenly, without having seen a person, his
cap was violently pulled over his eyes, a thick coffee-bag slipped
over his head, and a hand applied to his throat to stifle any cries,
should he be disposed to make them. But the poor fellow was too much
frightened to emit a sound, had he been never so much inclined to
scream.
"Make no noise," said a stern but disguised voice, "and you are safe.
No injury is designed. I will lead you. Follow quietly."
The man grasped his arm, and led him, as it seemed, out of the
travelled path into an adjoining field, for he was directed to lift
his feet at a particular spot, and in doing so, struck them against
what were evidently wooden bars, such as are everywhere to be found in
New England, at the entrances to the stone wall encircled lots. They
were followed by Holden, and, as the constable judged, from the slight
sounds he succeeded in occasionally catching, by another person.
When his captor seemed to think he was in a place where he would be
unlikely to be disturbed by a casual passer, he stopped and demanded
the key to the handcuffs. Every movement of the constable must have
been narrowly watched during the evening, for, as he hesitated, either
confused by the unexpected capture, and forgetful of where he had
placed the key, or desirous to gain time in the hope that help might
arrive--whatever might have been the motive, no time was granted, the
same stern voice instantly adding,
"The key is in the right pocket of your pantaloons: give it to me at
once."
With a trembling hand, the constable produced the key from his pocket,
and was confirmed, by what followed, in the belief that his captor
must have a coadjutor, for he still kept his hold, and uttered the
single word "here," as if addressing another, and handing him the key.
Presently, the handcuffs were thrown down at his feet, and he thought
he could detect the sound of receding footsteps. His captor then
demanded the mittimus, which he tore into small pieces, and scattered
around. In this condition muffled so that he could hardly breathe,
with a desperado, or he knew not how many at his side, who, at the
least attempt to make an outcry, might do him some bodily injury or
perhaps murder him, the next quarter of an hour seemed a whole dismal
night to the unfortunate Basset. At the expiration of that time, his
guard addressed him again, and in the same carefully feigned voice:
"You are in my power, and who would know it were I to leave your
corpse to stiffen on the snow? But I bear you no ill will, and have
no intention to hurt you. I would not harm a hair of your head. I will
not subject you even to the inconvenience of having these fetters on
your wrists, though you were unfeeling enough to place them on a man,
the latchet of whose shoes you are unworthy to unloose. Be thankful
for the forebearance, and show that you know how to appreciate it.
Mark what I say. Remain where you are, nor venture to remove the
covering for half an hour. It will keep you warm. Return then to your
home, nor seek to discover either Holden or who rescued him, and be
assured he was not privy to the intention to release him. Remember,
remember. Eyes will be upon you. Good night!" So saying, the unknown
departed and left the stupefied constable like a statue, rooted to the
spot.
There he remained, not daring to stir or to remove the uncomfortable
head-dress--for by what unseen dangers he was surrounded he knew
not--until, as he supposed, the half hour was more than passed. Then
Basset cautiously and slowly raised his hand to his head, as if to
intimate that if any one were watching and wanted him to desist, he
was ready to do so, and hearing no sound, proceeded to divest himself
of the hood. He looked around but could see nothing; the falling snow
effectually shut out all objects from sight. He tried to move, but
stiff with cold his limbs refused their office, and he nearly
fell down. He took a step forward and his feet struck against the
handcuffs. He stooped down and picked them up, comforting himself with
the reflection, that bad as was his case, it might have been worse had
they been transferred to his wrists. He strove to peer into the fallen
snow, to discover, if possible, any tracks, but except his own just
made none were distinguishable. The snow had already obliterated them.
Faint and weary, and frozen, and vexed and frightened, the melancholy
Basset turned his face to the village, not among his cronies with bold
brow and loud voice to boast of his achievements, and by the aid of
John Barleycorn to screw his courage up to a fabulous pitch, but with
drooping crest and dejected spirits to slink to his bachelor's bed,
and dream of banditti all the night.
A sadder, if not a wiser man
"He rose the morrow morn."
Not a word spoke he the next day of his misadventure, until it having
been ascertained that Holden had not been at the workhouse, inquiry
was made respecting his non-appearance. The constable was then obliged
to confess the truth, which his captors, as if defying discovery,
had not enjoined him to conceal. Faithful to his instructions, he
exculpated Holden from all blame, praising him for his submissiveness
to the law, expressing his conviction that the old man knew nothing of
the intentions of his captors, nor whether they were friends or
foes. Notwithstanding the reluctance of the constable, the indignant
Justice, in the first ebullition of his anger, made out another
mittimus, which he almost forced into the other's unwilling hands, and
commanded him to arrest the fugitive, wherever he might find him, by
night or by day, on the Lord's Day or on any other day, were the place
the Sanctuary itself.
But the rescue had diverted public attention from the Solitary into
another channel, and the community had not a stock of indignation
sufficient, like the Justice, to expend on Holden as well as on his
rescuers. It appeared, even to the few who were originally in favor
of his arrest, that he had suffered enough, satisfied as they were,
as well from his behavior they had witnessed as from the report of the
constable, that he had in no respect contributed to his freedom, but
was rather compelled to accept it, and therefore attaching no blame to
him for the escape. The resentment of the citizens was now transferred
to the daring offenders, who, with a strong hand, had interposed
between the sentence and the execution of the law, and this last
offence, as being of so much greater magnitude than Holden's, cast it
quite into the shade. Who were they? Who would have the audacity, in
the midst of a law-loving and law-abiding people, to trample on the
laws and defy the State? The constable could give no information. He
had not even seen a person. He had only heard a voice he never heard
before. Ought not some persons to be arrested on suspicion? Who should
they be? Who were obnoxious to suspicion? The friends of the Solitary
were among the most respectable people in the place. Would it be safe
to proceed against them? There would be some hazard in the experiment.
They would be sure to defend themselves to the uttermost, and if
successful as they probably would be, would make the movers in the
matter rue their officiousness.
Of such a nature were the various questions discussed around the
hearths, and in the bank and shops of the little town of Hillsdale.
The excitement was a perfect god-send to stir the sluggish blood of
winter. Above all it was attractive for the mystery that invested it.
But we will leave the village gossips to beat the air with their idle
speculations.