t. You must--whether you feel it or no--present an appearance
of contrition. I counsel it for the good of all. He is just like a
woman, and where his feelings are offended he wants utter subservience.
He has you in town, and he does not see you:--now you know that he and
I are not in communication: we have likewise our differences:--Well, he
has you in town, and he holds aloof:--he is trying you, my dear Richard.
No: he is not at Raynham: I do not know where he is. He is trying you,
child, and you must be patient. You must convince him that you do not
care utterly for your own gratification. If this person--I wish to speak
of her with respect, for your sake--well, if she loves you at all--if, I
say, she loves you one atom, she will repeat my solicitations for you
to stay and patiently wait here till he consents to see you. I tell you
candidly, it's your only chance of ever getting him to receive her. That
you should know. And now, Richard, I may add that there is something
else you should know. You should know that it depends entirely upon your
conduct now, whether you are to see your father's heart for ever divided
from you, and a new family at Raynham. You do not understand? I will
explain. Brothers and sisters are excellent things for young people, but
a new brood of them can hardly be acceptable to a young man. In fact,
they are, and must be, aliens. I only tell you what I have heard on good
authority. Don't you understand now? Foolish boy! if you do not humour
him, he will marry her. Oh! I am sure of it. I know it. And this you
will drive him to. I do not warn you on the score of your prospects,
but of your feelings. I should regard such a contingency, Richard, as a
final division between you. Think of the scandal! but alas, that is the
least of the evils."

It was Mrs. Doria's object to produce an impression, and avoid an
argument. She therefore left him as soon as she had, as she supposed,
made her mark on the young man. Richard was very silent during the
speech, and save for an exclamation or so, had listened attentively. He
pondered on what his aunt said. He loved Lady Blandish, and yet he did
not wish to see her Lady Feverel. Mrs. Doria laid painful stress on the
scandal, and though he did not give his mind to this, he thought of it.
He thought of his mother. Where was she? But most his thoughts recurred
to his father, and something akin to jealousy slowly awakened his heart
to him. He had given him up, and had