"I knew how it would be—it is all your doing—and I do think if you had felt like any other mother, you would have spared me such a mortification."
"I!" replied her mother, almost equally irritated by fatigue and disappointment, "I spare you mortification! how can I make the man love you! It is your own vile temper which is in fault."
"Whatever I may be," replied Caroline, bitterly, "I am what you have made me; but I can tell you, that if that girl is to be suffered to queen it over us all, I am not the one to stand it, I would rather go out as a governess."
"Mabel! what has she to do with it?" enquired Mrs. Villars, not sorry to have the blame thrown off her own shoulders.
"Did you not see Henry speaking to her, and to no one else; and did he not ask her to dance before me; and did not Lady Scratchal say that, if she were you, she would not suffer such an artful girl—who knew how to make such use of her good looks—to be with her daughters, if she had any."
"But, Cary dear, remember the poor child has no home, and I promised her mother she should find one here."
"Very well," said Caroline, tossing her head angrily, "I see how it is; she has already supplanted us with papa, and she is going to do the same with you."
"My love," said Mrs. Villars, quite overcome by this appeal to her parental affection, "you know better than that; you know how much I would sacrifice for you—any thing—everything."
"Then send her away," said Caroline, bursting into tears.
"I will see about it, I will think to-morrow," replied her mother.