“Yes, my dear, though he is your father, and my relation too, you know one cannot be quite blinded by partiality—and I never would give up my judgment.”
“Nor would I,” said Caroline. “Nor I am sure would my father ever desire it. You see how freely he permits, he encourages us all to converse with him. He is never displeased with any of us for being of a different opinion from him.”
“He may not show displeasure,” said Lady Jane.
“Oh! he does not feel it, ma’am—I assure you,” said Caroline, with emotion. “You do not know my father, indeed you do not.”
“My dear,” said Lady Jane, retracting, “I know he is an excellent father, and I am sure I would have you think so—it is your duty; but, at the same time, you know he is not infallible, and you must not insist,” added she, sharply, “upon all the world being of one way of thinking.—My dear, you are his favourite, and it is no wonder you defend him.”
“Indeed, ma’am,” said Caroline, “if I am his favourite, I do not know it.”
“My dear, don’t mistake me. It is no wonder that you are. You must be a favourite with every body; and yet,” said Lady Jane, and she paused, “as you hinted, perhaps I am mistaken; I think Rosamond seems—hey?—Now tell me candidly—which is the favourite?”
“I would if I knew,” said Caroline.
“Oh! but there must be some favourite in a family—I know there must; and since you will not speak, I guess how it is. Perhaps, if I had asked your sister Rosamond to go to town with me next winter, your father would have been better pleased, and would have consented more readily.”
“To lose her company if she were his favourite?” said Caroline, smiling.