"Guard!--Why guard?--What is it you suspect? What crime can you invent to lay to his charge?"

"I suspect him of nothing. It is no crime--except, perhaps, in your eyes, dear Rosamond," said Caroline, smiling--"no crime not to love me."

"Oh! is that all? Now I understand and forgive you," said Rosamond, "if it is only _that_ you fear."

"I do not recollect that I said I _feared_ it," said Caroline.

"Well, well--I beg pardon for using that unguarded word--of course your pride must neither hope nor fear upon the occasion; you must quite forget yourself to stone. As you please, or rather as you think proper; but you will allow me to hope and fear for you. Since I have not, thank Heaven! made proud and vain professions of stoicism--have not vowed to throw away the rose, lest I should be p.r.i.c.ked by the thorn."

"Laugh, but hear me," said Caroline. "I make no professions of stoicism; it is because I am conscious that I am no stoic that I have endeavoured to guard well my heart.--I have seen and admired all Colonel Hungerford's good and amiable qualities; I have seen and been grateful for all that you and Mrs. Hungerford hoped and wished for my happiness--have not been insensible to any of the delightful, any of the romantic circ.u.mstances of the _vision_; but I saw it was only a vision--and one that might lead me into waking, lasting misery."

"Misery! lasting! How?" said Rosamond.

"Neither your wishes nor Mrs. Hungerford's, you know, can or ought to decide, or even to influence the event, that is to be determined by Colonel Hungerford's own judgment and feelings, and by mine. In the mean time, I cannot forget that the delicacy, honour, pride, prudence of our s.e.x, forbid a woman to think of any man, as a lover, till he gives her reason to believe that he feels love for her."

"Certainly," said Rosamond; "but I take it for granted that Colonel Hungerford does love you."

"But why should we take it for granted?" said Caroline: "he has not shown me any preference."

"Why--I don't know, I am not skilled in these matters," said Rosamond--"I am not sure--but I think--and yet I should be sorry to mislead you--at any rate there is no harm in hoping--"

"If there be no harm, there might be much danger," said Caroline: "better not to think of the subject at all, since we can do no good by thinking of it, and may do harm."

After a pause of surprise, disappointment, and reflection, Rosamond resumed: "So I am to understand it to be your opinion, that a woman of sense, delicacy, proper pride, honour, and prudence, must, can, and ought to shut her eyes, ears, understanding, and heart, against all the merit and all the powers of pleasing a man may possess, till said man shall and do make a matrimonial proposal for her in due form--hey!

Caroline?"

"I never thought any such thing," answered Caroline, "and I expressed myself very ill if I said any such thing. A woman need not shut her eyes, ears, or understanding to a man's merit--only her heart."

"Then the irresistible charm, the supreme merit, the only merit that can or ought to touch her heart in any man, is the simple or glorious circ.u.mstance of his loving her?"

"I never heard that it was a man's supreme merit to love," said Caroline; "but we are not at present inquiring what is a man's but what is a woman's characteristic excellence. And I have heard it said to be a woman's supreme merit, and grace, and dignity, that her love should _not unsought be won_."

"That is true," said Rosamond, "perfectly true--in general; but surely you will allow that there may be cases in which it would be difficult to adhere to the letter as well as to the spirit of this excellent rule.

Have you never felt--can't you imagine this?"

"I can well imagine it," said Caroline; "fortunately, I have never felt it. If I had not early perceived that Colonel Hungerford was not thinking of me, I might have deceived myself with false hopes: believe me, I never was insensible to his merit."

"But where is the merit or the glory, if there was no struggle, no difficulty?" said Rosamond, in a melancholy tone.

"Glory there is none," said Caroline; "nor do I claim any merit: but is not it something to prevent struggle and difficulty? Is it nothing to preserve my own happiness?"

"Something, to be sure," said Rosamond. "But, on the other hand, you know there is the old proverb, 'Nothing hazard, nothing have.'"

"That is a masculine, not a feminine proverb," said Caroline.

"All I meant to say was, that there is no rule without an exception, as all your philosophers, even the most rigid, allow; and if an exception be ever permitted, surely in such a case as this it might, in favour of such a man as Colonel Hungerford."

"Dangerous exceptions!" said Caroline. "Every body is too apt to make an exception in such cases in their own favour: that, you know, is the common error of the weak. Oh! my dear sister, instead of weakening, strengthen my mind--instead of trying to raise my enthusiasm, or reproaching me for want of sensibility, tell me that you approve of my exerting all my power over myself to do that which I think right.

Consider what evil I should bring upon myself, if I became attached to a man who is not attached to me; if you saw me sinking, an object of pity and contempt, the victim, the slave of an unhappy pa.s.sion."

"Oh! my dear, dear Caroline, that could never be--G.o.d forbid; oh! G.o.d forbid!" cried Rosamond, with a look of terror: but recovering herself, she added, "This is a vain fear. With your strength of mind, you could never be reduced to such a condition."

"Who can answer for their strength of mind in the second trial, if it fail in the first?" said Caroline. "If a woman once lets her affections go out of her power, how can she afterwards answer for her own happiness?"

"All very right and very true," said Rosamond: "but for a young person, Caroline, I could spare some of this premature reason. If there be some folly, at least there is some generosity, some sensibility often joined with a romantic temper: take care lest you 'mistake reverse of wrong for right,' and in your great zeal to avoid romance, run into selfishness."

"Selfishness!"

"Why, yes--after all, what are these cold calculations about loving or not loving such a character as Colonel Hungerford--what is all this wonderfully long-sighted care of your own individual happiness, but selfishness?--moral, very moral selfishness, I grant."

Caroline coloured, paused, and when she answered, she spoke in a lower and graver tone and manner than usual.

"If it be selfish to pursue, by the best means in my power, and by means which cannot hurt any human being, my own happiness, must I deserve to be called selfish?--Unless a woman be quite unconnected with others in society, without a family, and without friends--which, I thank G.o.d, is not my situation--it is impossible to hazard or to destroy our own happiness by any kind of imprudence, without destroying the happiness of others. Therefore imprudence, call it romance, or what you please, is often want of generosity--want of thought for the happiness of our friends, as well as for our own."

"Well come off!" said Rosamond, laughing: "you have proved, with admirable logic, that prudence is the height of generosity. But, my dear Caroline, do not speak so very seriously, and do not look with such 'sweet austere composure.'--I don't in earnest accuse you of selfishness--I was wrong to use that ugly word; but I was vexed with you for being more prudent than even good old Mrs. Hungerford."

At these words tears filled Caroline's eyes. "Dear, kind Mrs.

Hungerford," she exclaimed, "in the warmth of her heart, in the fulness of her kindness for me, once in her life Mrs. Hungerford said perhaps an imprudent word, expressed a wish of which her better judgment may have repented."

"No, no!" cried Rosamond--"her better, her best judgment must have confirmed her opinion of you. She never will repent of that wish. Why should you think she has repented of it, Caroline?"

"Because she must by this time see that there is no probability of that wish being accomplished: she must, therefore, desire that it should be forgotten. And I trust I have acted, and shall always act, as if it were forgotten by me, except as to its kindness--_that_ I shall remember while I have life and feeling. But if I had built a romance upon that slight word, consider how much that excellent friend would blame herself, when she found that she had misled me, that she had been the cause of anguish to my heart, that she had lowered in the opinion of all, even in her own opinion, one she had once so exalted by her approbation and friendship. And, oh! consider, Rosamond, what a return should I make for that friendship, if I were to be the occasion of any misunderstanding, any disagreement between her and her darling son. If _I_ were to become the rival of her beloved niece!"

"Rival!--Niece!--How?--Which?" cried Rosamond, "Which?" repeated she, eagerly; "I cannot think of any thing else, till you say which."

"Suppose Lady Elizabeth."

"The thought never occurred to me--Is it possible?--My dear Caroline, you have opened my eyes--But are you sure? Then you have acted wisely, rightly, Caroline; and I have as usual been very, _very_ imprudent.

Forgive what I said about selfishness--I was unjust. You selfish! you, who thought of all your friends, I thought only of you. But tell me, did you think of Lady Elizabeth from the first? Did you see how it would be from the very first?"

"No; I never thought of it till lately, and I am not sure of it yet."

"So you never thought of it till lately, and you are not sure of it yet?--Then I dare say you are mistaken, and wrong, with all your superfluous prudence. I will observe with my own eyes, and trust only my own judgment."

With this laudable resolution Rosamond departed.

The next morning she had an opportunity of observing, and deciding by her own judgment. Lady Elizabeth Pembroke and Caroline had both been copying a picture of Prince Rupert when a boy. They had finished their copies. Mrs. Hungerford showed them to her son. Lady Elizabeth's was rather the superior painting. Colonel Hungerford instantly distinguished it, and, in strong terms, expressed his admiration; but, by some mistake, he fancied that both copies were done by Caroline: she explained to him that that which he preferred was Lady Elizabeth's.

"Yours!" exclaimed Colonel Hungerford, turning to Lady Elizabeth with a look and tone of delighted surprise. Lady Elizabeth coloured, Lady Mary smiled: he forbore adding one word either of praise or observation.

Caroline gently relieved Mrs. Hungerford's hand from her copy of the picture which she still held.

Rosamond, breathless, looked and looked and waited for something more decisive.

"My mother wished for a copy of this picture," said Lady Elizabeth, in a tremulous voice, and without raising her eyes, "for we have none but a vile daub of him at Pembroke."

"Perhaps my aunt Pembroke would be so good to accept of the original?"

said Colonel Hungerford; "and my mother would beg of Lady Elizabeth to give her copy to--our gallery."

"Do, my dear Elizabeth," said Mrs. Hungerford. Lady Elizabeth shook her head, yet smiled.