“Hey! hallo! stop!” cried the foremost man, throwing up his arms before the horse, which immediately started and shied.

“Hush, can’t ye!  Don’t stop me now!  I’m in a desp’at hurry!  I’m off for the doctor!  My wife’s taken bad, and may die before I get back!” exclaimed Reuben, with a scared visage, as he tried to pass the messengers.

“Going for the doctor!  There’s just where we were going to send you!  Go as fast as you can, and if your wife isn’t very bad indeed, send him first of all to Tanglewood, where he is wanted immediately.”

“Who is ill there?” inquired Reuben anxiously.

“Nobody! but your nephew has been knocked down and trampled nearly to death while stopping Miss Merlin’s horses that were running away with her.”

“Ishmael hurt!  Good gracious! there’s nothing but trouble in this world!  Where is the poor lad?”

“Miss Merlin has taken him to Tanglewood.  The doctor is wanted there.”

“I’ll send him as soon as ever I can; but I must get him to Hannah first!  I must indeed!” And with that Reuben put whip to his horse and rode away; but in a moment he wheeled again and rode back to the fishermen, saying: 

“Hallo, Simpson! are you going past our place?”

“Yes,” replied the man.

“Well, then, mind and don’t breathe a word about Ishmael’s accident to Hannah, or to anybody about the place as might tell her; because she’s very ill, and the shock might be her death, you know,” said Reuben anxiously.

“All right! we’ll be careful,” replied the man.  And Reuben rode off.

He was so fortunate as to find Dr. Jarvis at his office and get him to come immediately to Woodside.  But not until the doctor had seen Hannah and had given her a little medicine, and declared that his farther services would not be required by her for several hours yet, did Reuben mention to him the other case that awaited his attention at Tanglewood.  And Dr. Jarvis, with a movement of impatience at the unnecessary delay, hurried thither.

CHAPTER XLII.

ISHMAEL AT TANGLEWOOD.

  There was an ancient mansion, and before
  Its walls there was a steed caparisoned. 
  Within an antique oratory lay
  The boy of whom I spake; he was alone,
  And pale and tossing to and fro....

  —­Byron.

Meanwhile the carriage traveling slowly reached Tanglewood.  Slowly pacing up and down the long piazza in front of the house was Judge Merlin.  He was a rather singular-looking man of about forty-five years of age.  He was very tall, thin, and bony, with high aquiline features, dark complexion, and iron-gray hair, which he wore long and parted in the middle.  He was habited in a loose jacket, vest, and trousers of brown linen, and wore a broad-brimmed straw hat on his head, and large slippers, down at the heel, on his feet.  He carried in his hand a lighted pipe of common clay, and he walked with a slow, swinging gait, and an air of careless indifference to all around him.  Altogether, he presented the idea of a civilized Indian chief, rather than that of a Christian gentleman.  Tradition said that the blood of King Powhatan flowed in Randolph Merlin’s veins, and certainly his personal appearance, character, tastes, habits, and manners favored the legend.