, presented to the church in
Jamestown. Although, with his own private resources, the scanty
provision of sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco per annum, (rated at
about eighty pounds sterling,) was ample for his comfortable support,
yet good Master Hutchinson had found it very convenient to accept Sir
William Berkeley's invitation to make his home at the palace. Here,
surrounded by his books, which he regarded more as cheerful companions,
than as grim instructors, he passed his life rather in inoffensive
meditation than in active usefulness. The sad and quiet reserve of his
manners, which seemed to spring from the memory of some past sorrow,
that while it had ceased to give pain, was still having its silent
effect upon its victim, made him the object of pity to all around him.
The fervid eloquence and earnestness of his sermons carried conviction
to the minds of the doubting, arrested the attention of the thoughtless
and the wayward, and administered the balm of consolation to the
afflicted child of sorrow. The mysterious influence which he exerted
over the proud spirit of Alfred Bernard, even by one reproving glance
from those big, black, melancholy eyes, struck all who knew them with
astonishment. He took but little interest in the political condition of
the colony, or in the state of society around him, and while, by this
estrangement, and his secluded life, he made but few warm friends, he
made no enemies. The good people of the parish were content to let the
parson pursue his own quiet life undisturbed, and he lost none of their
respect, while he gained much of their regard by his refusal to make the
influence of the church the weapon of political warfare.

Hutchinson, who had retired to his room some time before the guests had
separated, was quietly reading from one of the old fathers, when his
attention was arrested by a low tap at the door, which he at once
recognized as Bernard's. At the intimation to come in, the young man
entered, and throwing himself into a chair, he rested his face upon his
hand, and sighed deeply.

"Alfred," said the preacher, after watching him for a moment in silence,
"I am glad you have come. I have somewhat to say to you."

"Well, sir, I will hear you patiently. What would you say?"

"I would warn you against letting a young girl divert you from the
pursuit of higher objects than are to be attained by love."

"How, sir?" exclaimed Bernard, with surprise.

"Alfred Bernard, look at