y 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?"

"You have profited to some purpose by the French lessons of our
father," said Bernard, bitterly. "Principles like these may yet
produce as much confusion in our family on a small scale, as they did
in France on a mighty theatre."

"You are losing yourself in the clouds, dear brother. But there can be
no danger in following the guidance of one so wise and experienced as
our father, nor does it become you to speak slightingly of any opinion
he may adopt."

"I did not mean to do so. I should be the last one to do so, though I
cannot always agree with him. But you take an unfair advantage of the
little excitement I feel, to put me in the wrong. Do you think I can
look on without being painfully interested, when I see my only sister
about to thr