Relative to Janet she said little, except that she generally called there every day to make inquiries after me:  once or twice she did say that it was a pity that I was not able to come oftener to Greenwich, as Janet was not very steady; indeed, considering how young she was, without a mother, and so little controlled by her father, it was not to be wondered at.

Such was the state of affairs when I made up my mind that I would speak to Bramble about my paying my share of the expenses, which I thought would open his eyes to the real state of my feeling toward Bessy.  I did so; I pointed out to him that I was now earning money fast, and that I considered it but fair that I should support myself, and not put him to further expense; that perhaps it would be better that I should take a house for myself, as I must give a great deal of trouble to Bessy and Mrs. Maddox.

“Well, Tom,” said Bramble, “you’ve been at me about this before, and I believe it’s a proper feeling, after all.  It certainly does seem to me to be a matter of little consequence, as things stand; however, I can’t consent to your leaving us.  You have been with me ever since you were a lad, and I should feel like a fish out of water if I were to be without you or Bessy; so pay just what you please—­I’ll take it since you wish it—­and there’s an end of the matter.”

This was not the end to which I was driving; but Bramble’s eyes would not be opened, and I could not help it.  He had never directly spoken to me about a union with Bessy, and therefore it was impossible for me to say any more.  Bramble, however, did not fail to communicate what I had said to her; and one evening when we were standing on the shingle beach, she said to me, “So Emerson has been convicted for smuggling, and sentenced beyond the seas.”

“I am sorry for it,” replied I.

“His house is to be let now, Tom; would it not suit you? for my father told me that you wished to leave us.”

“Why should I live upon you when I am able to support myself?”

“Certainly not.  If it were not that I could not bear to see father miserable, I think it would be better if you did take Emerson’s house; but it would vex him, poor good man.”

“But not you, Bessy; is it that you mean?”

“Perhaps it is.  Tell me yourself, Tom, would it not be better?”

I made no reply.

“Well,” replied Bessy, “think of me as you please; I will speak now, Tom.  I am not considering you, Tom, nor am I thinking of myself; I am only induced so to do on account of my father.  We have been brought up together as children, Tom, and, as children, we were great friends, and, I believe, sincerely attached to each other.  I believe it to be very true that those who are brought up together as brothers and sisters do not change that affection for any other more serious in after life.  It is therefore not our faults if we cannot feel as, you must know, Tom, my father wishes we should.  Am I not right?”