husband, can this be right? can
I be doing a parent's duty?"

"We should not, my beloved, be fulfilling the duties of our station, did
we not sometimes mingle in society: all our duty is not comprised in
domestic life. It is when we retain our integrity unsullied, our
restraining principles unchanged in the midst of temptations, that we
show forth, even to the thoughtless, the spirit that actuates us, and by
example may do good. Besides, remember, dearest, we are not about to
enter into continued and incessant dissipation, which occupies the
existence of so many; we have drawn a line, and Caroline loves her
parents too well to expect or wish to pass its boundary. Remember, too,
the anxious fears which were yours when Percy was about to enter into
scenes of even stronger temptation than those which will surround his
sister; and have they had foundation? Has not the influence of his
mother followed him there, and restrained him even at the moment of
trial, and will not the influence of that mother do the same for
Caroline?"

"Percy is, indeed, all my heart could wish," replied Mrs. Hamilton,
still somewhat sadly; "but his disposition is different to that of
Caroline's. I know his confidence in me is such, and his affection so
strong, that for my sake he would do more than those who but slightly
know him would imagine. When a son really loves his mother, it is a
different, perhaps a more fervid, feeling than that ever known by a
daughter. He feels bound to protect, to cherish, and that very knowledge
of power heightens his affections."

"You do not doubt your daughters' love, my Emmeline? must I accuse you
of injustice too?"

"No, dearest Arthur, I do not doubt their love; for my Emmeline I do not
tremble. Her confidence I shall never lose; her affections, however I
may be called upon to exert my authority, will never waver, and
completely opposite as are the feelings with which she and Percy regard
me, their love may be equally intense. But forgive me, my dear husband,
I may be unjust, and if I am may my child forgive me; I am not--oh, that
I were--equally confident in my Caroline. She loves me, but that
affection, I know, does not prevent her thinking me harsh and unkind, if
my wishes interfere with hers. My authority is not the same with her as
it is to her sister and cousin. She seeks another confidential friend
besides her mother, for she dreads my opinions differing from hers. I
have marked her thus in early ch