"How is it possible to avoid being excited, when my brother speaks disparagingly of one who has every title to compassion and respect? Is it not enough to soften your heart, to think of the wretchedness he suffered so many years, and which shattered his fine understanding? And now, that his--Oh, William!" she cried, bursting into tears, "I did not think you were so hard-hearted." "My dear Anne! my dear sister!" exclaimed her brother, putting his arm around her and drawing her towards him, "forgive me. I never meant to hurt your feelings, though I am sorry they are so much interested." "I will not affect to misunderstand you, brother," she said, recovering herself; "but you are mistaken, if you suppose that Mr. Pownal has ever--has ever--spoken to me in a manner different from the way in which he is in the habit of conversing with other ladies." "Heaven be praised for that," said her brother. "But I ought to have known you never would permit it." "You ought to have known that, had he done so, I should not have kept it a secret. My father and mother, and you, would have been made acquainted with it." "And, now, dear Annie, since things are as they are, I hope you will not give Pownal any encouragement. Whatever may be your present feelings, he cannot disguise the fact, that he loves dearly to visit here." "Encouragement!" cried Anne, her natural vivacity flashing up at the imputation. "What do you take me for, William Bernard, that you venture to use such a word? Am I one of those old maids whom some wicked wag has described as crying out in despair, 'Who will have me?' or a cherry, at which any bird can pick?" "There spoke the spirit of my sister. I hear, now, Anne Bernard. You will not forget the position of our family in society, and that upon you and myself are centered the hopes of our parents." "I trust I shall never forget my love and duty, or have any secrets from them. They have a right to be acquainted with every emotion of my heart, nor am I ashamed they should be seen." "The accomplishments of Pownal entitle him to move in the first society, I cannot deny that," continued young Bernard, "but, in my judgment, something more is necessary in order to warrant his boldness in aspiring to connect himself with one of the first families in the country." "You will continue to harp on that string, William, but my opinion differs from yours. In our country there should be no distinctions but such as are created by goodness and intelligence." "It all sounds very well in theory, but the application of the rule is impossible. The dreamers of Utopian schemes may amuse themselves with such hallucinations, but practical people can only smile at them." "Class me among the dreamers. Nor will I believe that whatever is true and just is impracticable. Does redder blood flow in the veins of the child cradled under a silken canopy, than in those of one rocked in a kneading-trough?"