tone, and
assumed the direction of everything. And now for the first time did his
true character appear--sullen and morose in temper, stern and inflexible
in disposition, cold and reserved in manner, implacable when offended,
requiring implicit obedience to his commands; he seemed calculated to
inspire fear instead of love, aversion rather than esteem. The only
sign of feeling he ever showed was in his behaviour towards Richard
Cumberland, for whom he evidently entertained a strong affection. The
idea of a military career having been abandoned at Sir Henry Saville's
death, much of his time was now spent at the Priory. Although he was
apparently fond of his little companion, and endeavoured on every
occasion to render himself agreeable to her, all his habitual cunning
could not conceal from her his vile temper, or the unscrupulous means of
which he was always willing to avail himself in order to attain his own
ends. He had been away from the Priory on one occasion more than a
year, when he suddenly returned with his uncle, who had been in town on
business. He appeared sullen and uncomfortable, and she imagined that
they must have had a quarrel. She was at that time nearly fifteen, and
the marked devotion which Cumberland (who during his absence had greatly
improved both in manner and appearance) now paid her, flattered and
pleased her; and, partly for this reason, partly because she had already
learned to dread his outbreaks of temper, and was unwilling to do
anything which might provoke one of them, she allowed him to continue
his attentions unrepulsed. This went on for some weeks, and her old
dislike was beginning to return as she saw more of her companion, when
one morning Mr. Vernor called her into his study, and informed her
that he considered she had arrived at an age when it was right that
she should become aware of the arrangements he had made for her, in
accordance with the wishes of her late father. He then showed her a
letter in Sir Henry Saville's handwriting, dated only a few weeks before
his death, part of which was to the following effect; "You urge ~286~~
the fact of your nephew's residing with you as an objection to my
scheme for your living at Barstone, and assuming the guardianship of my
daughter, in the event (which, if I may trust my own sensations, is not
very far distant) of her being left an orphan. From what I have seen of
the boy, as well as on the score of our old friendship, my dear Vemor,
that