feeling
of which he had never before suspected himself, and it was this
feeling that made him so reluctant to depart. And yet, when, in the
silence of his chamber, and away from the blue eyes of Anne Bernard,
he reflected upon his position, he was obliged to confess, with a
sigh, that prudence required he should leave a society as dangerous
as it was sweet. To be in the same house with her, to breathe the same
air, to read the same books, to hear her voice was a luxury it was
hard to forego, but in proportion to the difficulty was the necessity.
Besides he could not avoid fancying that young Bernard, though not
cold, was hardly as cordial as formerly, and that he would regard
with satisfaction a separation from his sister. Nor had he reason to
suppose that she looked upon him with feelings other than those which
she entertained for any other acquaintance standing to her in the
same relation as himself. Beyond the ordinary compliments and little
attentions which the manners of the day permitted, nothing had passed
between them, and though satisfied he was not an object of aversion,
he knew as well that she had never betrayed any partiality for him.
Meanwhile, his own feelings were becoming interested, beyond, perhaps,
the power of control, the sooner, therefore, he weaned himself from
the delightful fascination, the better for his peace of mind.

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