untutored chieftains of the forest. The air was clear and
frosty, and the broad heaven, that hung like a blue curtain above the
busy world, seemed even purer and more beautiful than ever. There, calm
and eternal, it spread in its unclouded glory, above waters, woods,
wilds, as if unmindful of the sorrows and the cares of earth. So hovers
the wide providence of the eternal God over his creation, unmoved in its
sublime depths by the joys and woes which agitate the mind of man, yet
shining over him still, in its clear beauty, and beckoning him upwards!

But on none did the sun shine with more brightness, or the sky smile
with more bitter mockery, on that morning, than on the dark forms of
Arthur Hutchinson and his young pupil, Alfred Bernard, as they sat
together in the embrasure of the window which lightened the little room
of the grave old preacher. A terrible revelation was that morning to be
made, involving the fate of the young jesuit, and meting out a dread
retribution for the crime that he had committed. Arthur Hutchinson had
reserved for this day the narrative of the birth and history of Alfred
Bernard. It had been a story which he long had desired to know, but to
all his urgent inquiries the old preacher had given an evasive reply.
But now there was no longer need for mystery. The design of that long
silence had been fully accomplished, and thus the stern misanthrope
began his narrative:

"It matters little, Alfred Bernard, to speak of my own origin and
parentage. Suffice it to say, that though not noble, by the accepted
rules of heraldry, my parents were noble in that higher sense, in which
all may aspire to true nobility, a patent not granted for bloody feats
in arms, nor by an erring man, but granted to true honesty and virtue
from the court of heaven. I was not rich, and yet, by self-denial on the
part of my parents, and by strict economy on my own part, I succeeded in
entering Baliol College, Oxford, where I pursued my studies with
diligence and success. This success was more essential, because I could
look only to my own resources in my struggle with the world. But, more
than this, I had already learned to think and care for another than
myself; for I had yielded my young heart to one, who requited my
affection with her own. I have long denied myself the luxury of looking
back upon the bright image of that fair creature, so fair, and yet so
fatal. But for your sake, and for mine own, I will draw aside the v