my papa by rights."

"Certainly not, my love; not by rights--I comprehend."

"Eh!"

"Yes, I am going to see your papa by wrongs--Mr. Templeton."

"Oh, this way, then."

"You are very fond of Mr. Templeton, my little angel."

"To be sure I am. You have not seen the rocking-horse he is going to
give me."

"Not yet, sweet child! And how is mamma?"

"Oh, poor, dear mamma," said the child, with a sudden change of voice,
and tears in her eyes. "Ah, she is not well!"

"In the family way, to a dead certainty!" muttered Ferrers with a groan:
"but here is my uncle. Horrid name! Uncles were always wicked fellows.
Richard the Third and the man who did something or other to the babes in
the wood were a joke to my hard-hearted old relation, who has robbed me
with a widow! The lustful, liquorish old--My _dear_ sir, I'm so glad to
see you!"

Mr. Templeton, who was a man very cold in his manners, and always either
looked over people's heads or down upon the ground, just touched his
nephew's outstretched hand, and telling him he was welcome, observed
that it was a very fine afternoon.

"Very, indeed; sweet place this; you see, by the way, that I have
already made acquaintance with my fair cousin-in-law. She is very
pretty."

"I really think she is," said Mr. Templeton, with some warmth, and
gazing fondly at the child, who was now throwing buttercups up in the
air, and trying to catch them. Mr. Ferrers wished in his heart that they
had been brickbats!

"Is she like her mother?" asked the nephew.

"Like whom, sir?"

"Her mother--Mrs. Templeton."

"No, not very; there is an air, perhaps, but the likeness is not
remarkably strong. Would you not like to go to your room before dinner?"

"Thank you. Can I not first be presented to Mrs. Tem--"

"She is at her devotions, Mr. Lumley," interrupted Mr. Templeton,
grimly.

"The she-hypocrite!" thought Ferrers. "Oh, I am delighted that your
pious heart has found so congenial a helpmate!"

"It is a great blessing, and I am grateful for it. This is the way to
the house."

Lumley, now formally installed in a grave bedroom, with dimity curtains
and dark-brown paper with light-brown stars on it, threw himself into
a large chair, and yawned and stretched with as much fervour as if he
could have yawned and stretched himself into his uncle's property. He
then slowly exchanged his morning dress for a quiet suit of black, and
thanked his stars that, amidst all his sins, he had never