“There is no danger but she will be happy enough,” retorted Clara. “Yet she shall lament the day she ever intruded upon us here.”
“Oh, Clara, Clara! you are very wrong. You ought not to speak so or to feel so,” said Alice, sadly, putting her arm about her sister’s waist and joining in her walk. “Certainly she had a right to love our father and to marry him, and I do not see the need of suspecting her of a plot upon our peace.”
“But what infatuated father to ask her? How could he forget my beautiful mother so soon!” and Clara threw herself, weeping, into a chair.
“He has not forgotten her,” replied Alice, almost indignantly. “And you and I have no right to doubt that he loved her even better than we. But I know not why that should render it impossible for him to appreciate loveliness in another. He was very desolate, and I am thankful that he has found such a friend.”
“Such a friend? I see nothing remarkably lovely about her.”
“Why, I think she is very attractive.”
“Attractive! Pray what has attracted you, dear? She is, certainly, very plain.”
“I do not think she is.”
“She looks as though she meant to rule the world, with her great black eyes and military form.”
“Her ‘great black eyes’ are soft, I am sure, and I admire her form. Then she looks so animated when she speaks, and her smile is absolutely fascinating.”