is a distinction. Will it
please the rich and polished Judge to ally his daughter with the son
of one like me?"

"Judge Bernard is above the mean conceit of valuing himself upon
his riches. I never heard anything that sounded like arrogance or
superciliousness from him, and he has uniformly treated me with
kindness. For yourself, dear father, though for reasons of your own
you have chosen to lead hitherto this life of solitude and privation,
why continue to do so? Why not leave this miserable hut for comforts
more befitting your age and the society you are capable of adorning?"

"Forbear! In this miserable hut, as thou callest it, I found the peace
that passeth understanding, and its walls are to me more glorious than
the gildings of palaces. If thou lovest Anne Bernard, as I strongly
suspect, I say not unto thee cease to love her, but wait, hoarding thy
love in secrecy and silence, until the fullness of the time is come.
Wilt thou not promise me this, for a short time?"

"I will do nothing, father, that may be contrary to your
inclinations."

"It is enough: then let there be no change in thy conduct. If thou
have the love of Anne, keep it as a precious jewel, but for the
present be content with the knowledge thereof: if thou have it not,
seek not thereafter. I promise thee it shall be for thy good, nor will
I unreasonably try thy patience."

Here the interview ended, and Pownal departed, wondering over the
mystery his father affected, though he could not but confess to
himself there was a worldly wisdom (as he supposed it to be) in the
advice, not to be precipitate, but to watch the course of events.
Though unacquainted with the motives of his parent, he was bound to
respect his wishes, and felt a natural desire to gratify him to the
extent of his ability. He had never found him unreasonable, whatever
might be his singularities, and besides, no plan of his own was
crossed. He was obliged to admit the possibility of a failure of his
suit. To break up the pleasant relations existing betwixt the Bernard
family and himself; not to be allowed to approach Anne as before; a
cold constraint to be substituted for a confiding friendship! No, the
hazard was too great. Things should continue as they were. He and Anne
were still young: there was time enough; his father was right; the
counsels of age were wiser than those prompted by the rashness and
impetuosity of youth.

The following morning was calm and warm, when Holde