as people very often are when under such oppressed feelings, in anything but a good humor at being obliged to remain another day at Deal.  I had walked out to the beach after we had breakfasted, and had remained there some time.  Bramble had gone out in the direction of the post-office, and I asked him to inquire if there was a letter for me, for I thought it very likely that Virginia might have written to me again.  I had remained for an hour on the beach, when I recollected that my knife required to be sharpened, and I walked round the cottage to the back yard, where there was a small grindstone.  I had not put my knife to it when I heard Bramble come in and say to Bessy: 

“Well, girl, I’ve found it all out; for, you see, I thought old Anderson might know something about it, or, if he did not, he could inquire—­and I’ve got the whole story.  Here’s Anderson’s letter.  I thought there must be something of that sort.”

Here there was a pause, as if Bessy was reading the letter.

“Only to think—­she’s run away with a young lord,” said Bramble.

“So it seems,” replied Bessy.  “I’m sorry for poor Tom, for he feels it severely.”

“I’m not sorry,” rejoined Bramble; “she wasn’t deserving of him; and, Bessy, I’m glad for your sake.”

“Don’t say that, father; Tom will never think of me, nor do I care about him.”

“I don’t exactly believe that, Bessy, for all you say so.  It’s my wish, and you know it, Bessy, to see you and Tom spliced before I die; and I thank Heaven that this false girl is out of the way—­I’ve more hopes now.”

“Marriages are made in heaven, father,” replied Bessy; “so, pray don’t say any thing more about it.  It will be time enough for me to think of Tom when Tom appears to think of me.  I shall always love him as a brother.”

“Well, God’s will be done!  We must now try and console him, poor fellow; and I’m very glad that we’re off to-morrow.  Salt water cures love, they say, sooner than anything else.”

“It may, perhaps,” replied Bessy; “but I feel that if I were once really in love the whole ocean itself could not wash my love out.  However, women are not men.”

“That’s true.  You hug your love as you do your babies, all day long, and never tire.  Now, you see, a man gets tired of nursing in no time.  I never was in love but once.”

“Oh, father, I’ve heard that story so often.”

“Well, then, you shan’t hear it again.  Now, I’ll go out and see where Tom may be.  I suppose he’s looking at the wind, and thinking how it changes like a woman.  But I’ll light my pipe first.”

“Do, father; and while Tom looks at the wind and thinks of women, do you just watch the smoke out of your pipe, and think of men and their constancy.”

“Well, I will, if it pleases you.  Put the letter by, Bessy, for I shouldn’t like Tom to see it.  What have you got for dinner?”

“I left that to Mrs. Maddox, so I can’t tell.  But there’s cold pudding in the larder; I’ll put it out for Tom.”