“Thanky you, Mister Tom; thanky you, Missy.  I see you wish to spare him feelings; but I know what you tink in your heart.”

Virginia and I now left the hospital.  There was one subject which was often discussed between my sister and me, which was, my situation with regard to Bramble and Bessy.  I had no secrets from her, and she earnestly advised me to try if I could not make up my mind to a union with a person of whom I could not possibly speak but with the highest encomiums.

“Depend upon it, my dear Tom,” said she, “she will make you a good wife; and with her as a companion you will soon forget the unhappy attachment which has made you so miserable.  I am not qualified from experience to advise you on this point, but I have a conviction in my own mind that Bessy is really just the sort of partner for life who will make you happy.  And then, you owe much to Bramble, and you are aware how happy it would make him; and as her partiality for you is already proved, I do wish that you would think seriously upon what I now say.  I long to see and make her acquaintance, but I really long much more to embrace her as a sister.”

I could not help acknowledging that Bessy was as perfect as I could expect any one to be, where none are perfect.  I admitted the truth and good sense of my sister’s reasoning, and the death of Janet contributed not a little to assist her arguments; but she was not the only one who appeared to take an interest in this point:  my father would hint at it jocosely, and Mrs. St. Felix did once compliment me on my good fortune in having the chance of success with a person whom every one admired and praised.  The party, however, who had most weight with me was old Anderson, who spoke to me unreservedly and seriously.

“Tom,” said he, “you must be aware that Bramble and I are great friends, and have been so for many years.  He has no secrets from me, and I have no hesitation in telling you that his regards and affections are so equally bestowed between you and his adopted child that it is difficult for himself to say to which he is the most attached; further, as he has told me, his fervent and his dearest wish—­the one thing which will make him happy, and the only one without which he will not be happy, although he may be resigned—­is that a union should take place between you and Bessy.  I am not one of those who would persuade you to marry her out of gratitude to Bramble.  Gratitude may be carried too far; but she is, by all accounts, amiable and beautiful, devoted to excess, and capable of any exertion and any sacrifice for those she loves; and, Tom, she loves you.  With her I consider that you have every prospect of being happy in the most important step in life.  You may say that you do not love her, although you respect, and admire, and esteem her:  granted, but on such feelings toward a woman is the firmest love based, and must eventually grow.  Depend upon it, Tom, that that hasty and violent attachment