You talk as if your anchor

And with this beginning he renewed his suit. She told him that she forgot no one; that she should return always, lest they might forget her. "Return always!" he exclaimed. "You talk as if your anchor was dragging." Was it? At all events, Sam failed in his suit. Over in the house at Dunbarton, the old lady held Molly's hand and looked a long while at her. "You have changed very much," she said finally. "I am a year older," said the girl. "Pshaw, my dear!" said the great-aunt. "Who is he?" "Nobody!" cried Molly, with indignation. "Then you shouldn't answer so loud," said the great-aunt. The girl suddenly hid her face. "I don't believe I can love any one," she said, "except myself." And then that old lady, who in her day had made her courtesy to Lafayette, began to stroke her niece's buried head, because she more than half understood. And understanding thus much, she asked no prying questions, but thought of the days of her own youth, and only spoke a little quiet love and confidence to Molly. "I am an old, old woman," she said. "But I haven't forgotten about it. They objected to him because he had no fortune. But he was brave and handsome, and I loved him, my dear. Only I ought to have loved him more. I gave him my promise to think about it. And he and his ship were lost." The great-aunt's voice had become very soft and low, and she spoke with many pauses. "So then I knew. If I had--if--perhaps I should have lost trim; but it would have been after--ah, well! So long as you can help it, never marry! But when you cannot help it a moment longer, then listen to nothing but that; for, my dear, I know your choice would be worthy of the Starks. And now--let me see his picture." "Why, aunty!" said Molly.