“Well, I really think so too,” cried Rosamond, “and I am sure Godfrey would think and say so himself. How he would admire Colonel Hungerford, and how desirous, how ambitious he would be to make such a man his friend, his--in short, I know if Godfrey was here this minute, he would think just as I do about Colonel Hungerford, and about--all other things.” “All other things,” repeated Caroline, smiling: “that includes a great deal.” “Yes, it does, that is certain,” said Rosamond, significantly. “And,” continued she, “I know another person of excellent judgment too, who, if I mistake not, is of my way of thinking, of wishing at least, in _some things_, that is a comfort. How Mrs. Hungerford does adore her son! And I think she loves you almost as much.” Caroline expressed strong gratitude for Mrs. Hungerford’s kindness to her, and the warmest return of affection. “Then, in one word,” continued Rosamond, “for out it must come, sooner or later--I think she not only loves you as if you were her daughter, but that--Now confess, Caroline, did not the idea ever occur to you? And don’t you see that Mrs. Hungerford wishes _it_?--Oh! that blush is answer enough--I’ll say no more--I do not mean to torment or distress--good bye, I am satisfied.” “Stay, my dear Rosamond, stay one moment, and I will tell you exactly all I think and feel.” “I will stay as long as you please,” said Rosamond, “and I thank you for this confidence.” “You have a right to it,” said Caroline: “I see, my dear sister, and feel all your kindness towards me, and all Mrs. Hungerford’s--I see what you both wish.” “There’s my own sister Caroline, above all artifice and affectation.” “But,” said Caroline. “_But_--Oh! Caroline, don’t go back--don’t palter with us--abide by your own words, and your own character, and don’t condescend to any pitiful _buts_.” “You do not yet know the nature of my _but_.” “Nor do I wish to know it, nor will I hear it,” cried Rosamond, stopping her ears, “because I know, whatever it is, it will lower you in my opinion. You have fairly acknowledged that Colonel Hungerford possesses every virtue, public and private, that can make him worthy of you--not a single fault on which to ground one possible, imaginable, rational _but_. Temper, manners, talents, character, fortune, family, fame, every thing the heart of woman can desire.” “Every thing against which the heart of woman should guard itself,” said Caroline. “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.