Thomas Pownal was comparatively a stranger in the neighborhood, only two or three months having elapsed since he had been sent by the mercantile firm of Bloodgood, Pownal, & Co., of New York, to take charge of a branch of their business at Hillsdale. Even in that short space of time, by his affable manners and attention to business he had won his way to the respect and esteem of the good people of the town, and was looked upon as one likely to succeed in the lottery of life. No one was more welcome, by reason of his amiable character, to those of his own age, while his steadiness recommended him to his elders. But his family was unknown, though he was supposed to be a distant relation of the second member of the firm, nor had he any visible means of subsistence except the very respectable salary, which, as a confidential clerk, he received from his employers, on whom his prospects of success depended. The chasm, therefore, betwixt the only daughter of the wealthy Mr. Bernard and himself, was wide--wide enough to check even an overweening confidence. But such it was not in the nature of Pownal to feel. He was sensible of the full force of the difficulties he had to encounter; to his modesty they seemed insuperable, and he determined to drive from his heart a sentiment that, in his despondency, he blamed himself for allowing to find a place there. It took him some days to form the resolution, and after it was formed, it was not easy to carry it into effect. More than once he had been on the point of returning thanks for the kindness he had received, and avowing his intention to depart, but it seemed as if the veriest trifle were sufficient to divert him from his purpose. If Mr. Bernard spoke of the satisfaction he derived from his company, if Mrs. Bernard declared she should miss him when he left; or if Anne's radiant face looked thanks for his reading aloud, they were all so many solicitations to delay his departure. The treacherous heart readily listened to the seduction, however much the judgment might disapprove. But, as we have seen, a time had come when the voice of prudence could no longer be silenced, and, however unwillingly, must be obeyed. He, therefore, took occasion, one morning, at the breakfast table, to announce his intended departure. "Had I been a son," he said, in conclusion, "you could not have lavished more kindness upon me, and I shall never forget it." "What! what!" cried the Judge, "I am not sure that the shooting one's self is a bailable offence, and I shall be obliged to examine the authorities, before I discharge you from custody, Master Thomas." "To think," said Mrs. Bernard, "it does not seem a week since you came, and we have all been so happy. I declare, Mr. Pownal, I shall not know how to do without you." "The dearest friends must part--but we shall always be glad to see you, Tom," said William Bernard.