on the point of returning thanks for the kindness he had received,
and avowing his intention to depart, but it seemed as if the veriest
trifle were sufficient to divert him from his purpose. If Mr. Bernard
spoke of the satisfaction he derived from his company, if Mrs. Bernard
declared she should miss him when he left; or if Anne's radiant
face looked thanks for his reading aloud, they were all so many
solicitations to delay his departure. The treacherous heart readily
listened to the seduction, however much the judgment might disapprove.
But, as we have seen, a time had come when the voice of prudence could
no longer be silenced, and, however unwillingly, must be obeyed. He,
therefore, took occasion, one morning, at the breakfast table, to
announce his intended departure.

"Had I been a son," he said, in conclusion, "you could not have
lavished more kindness upon me, and I shall never forget it."

"What! what!" cried the Judge, "I am not sure that the shooting one's
self is a bailable offence, and I shall be obliged to examine the
authorities, before I discharge you from custody, Master Thomas."

"To think," said Mrs. Bernard, "it does not seem a week since you
came, and we have all been so happy. I declare, Mr. Pownal, I shall
not know how to do without you."

"The dearest friends must part--but we shall always be glad to see
you, Tom," said William Bernard.

"I do not see the necessity for your going," said the Judge. "Our
house is large enough for all; your attacks at table are not yet very
formidable; and I have not taught you whist perfectly. Would it not