There was nothing in his calling her Bessy, for it had become a
habit with him since they were children; and they had formerly
agreed that everything between them should be as it had been before
that foolish whisper of love had been spoken and received. Indeed,
provision had been made by them specially on this point, so that
there need be no awkwardness in this mode of addressing each other.
Such provision had seemed to be very prudent, but it hardly had the
desired effect on the present occasion.

"I hardly know what you mean by brightness," she said, after a
pause. "Perhaps it is not intended that people's lives should be
what you call bright."

"Life ought to be as bright as we can make it."

"It all depends on the meaning of the word. I suppose we are not
very bright here at Thwaite Hall, but yet we think ourselves very
happy."

"I am sure you are," said Godfrey. "I very often think of you
here."

"We always think of places where we have been when we were young,"
said Bessy; and then again they walked on for some way in silence,
and Bessy began to increase her pace with the view of catching the
children. The present walk to her was anything but bright, and she
bethought herself with dismay that there were still two miles before
she reached the Ferry.