“But that would do me no good,” said Rosamond; “for here is Caroline, with superior claims of every sort, and with that most undisputed of all the rights of woman—beauty.”
“True: but Caroline would never accept of stray hearts,” said Godfrey. “See how her lip curls with pride at the bare imagination!”
“Pride never curled Caroline’s lip,” cried Rosamond: “besides, pride is very becoming to a woman. No woman can be good for much without it, can she, mother?”
“Before you fly off, Rosamond, to my mother as to an ally, whom you are sure I cannot resist,” said Godfrey, “settle first whether you mean to defend Caroline upon the ground of her having or not having pride.”
A fresh gust of wind rose at this moment, and Rosamond listened to it anxiously.
“Seriously, Godfrey,” said she, “do you remember the ship-wrecks last winter?”
As she spoke, Rosamond went to one of the windows, and opened the shutter. Her sister Caroline followed, and they looked out in silence.
“I see a light to the left of the beacon,” said Caroline.—“I never saw a light there before—What can it mean?”
“Only some fishermen,” said Godfrey.
“But, brother, it is quite a storm,” persisted Rosamond.