for, as the
wind was fair. About ten o'clock that night we landed at Cawsand Bay
near Plymouth, where we sat down to a hearty supper; and when we went to
bed, I did not forget to thank Providence for my unexpected escape.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Another Escape, more fortunate than the one recorded in the
preceding Chapter.

From the time that I had passed my examination, and worked as a pilot on
my own account, until the period of our escape, which I have narrated in
the preceding chapter, I had continued to live in the cottage with
Bramble, without contributing any share to the expenses. I had at first
proposed it, but Bramble would not listen to any such arrangement; he
considered me, he said, as his son, and who knew, he added, but that the
cottage would be mine after he was gone. The fact was that Bramble
ardently wished that Bessy and I should be united. He continually hinted
at it, joked with Bessy about me; and I believe that, in consequence,
Bessy's feelings toward me had taken the same bent. She was prepared for
the issue; the regard naturally felt for me from her long intimacy, now
that the indulgence of it was so openly sanctioned by him whom she
considered as her father, was not checked on her part; indeed, there was
no doubt but that it had ripened into love. She showed it in every
little way that her maiden modesty did not interfere with, and old
Bramble would at times throw out such strong hints of our eventual union
as to make me feel very uncomfortable. They neither of them had any idea
of my heart having been pre-engaged, and the strangeness of my manner
was ascribed by Bramble to my feelings toward Bessy. Bessy, however, was
not so easily deceived; my conduct toward her appeared, to say the best
of it, very inconsistent. So often had I had opportunities, especially
when I was at home and Bramble was away, of speaking on the subject, and
so often had these opportunities been neglected, that it filled her mind
with doubt and anxiety. After having accepted my addresses at first,
Janet had once or twice written to me; lately, however, she had not
written herself--all her messages were through Virginia's letters, or,
perhaps, she would add a little postscript. Had letters arrived for me
in any other handwriting than that of Virginia, Bessy, after her
suspicions were roused, might have easily guessed the truth; but it was
the absence of any clew to guide her as to the state of my feeling