self, not a noisy, social, fashionable reputation, but
a good, sober, substantial one, the more highly Mr. Templeton would
consider him, and the more likely he was to be made his uncle's
heir,--that is, provided Mrs. Templeton did not supersede the nepotal
parasite by indigenous olive-branches. This last apprehension died away
as time passed, and no signs of fertility appeared. And, accordingly,
Ferrers thought he might prudently hazard more upon the game on which
he now ventured to rely. There was one thing, however, that greatly
disturbed his peace; Mr. Templeton, though harsh and austere in his
manner to his wife, was evidently attached to her; and, above all, he
cherished the fondest affection for his stepdaughter. He was as anxious
for her health, her education, her little childish enjoyments, as if he
had been not only her parent, but a very doting one. He could not bear
her to be crossed or thwarted. Mr. Templeton, who had never spoiled
anything before, not even an old pen (so careful, and calculating, and
methodical was he), did his best to spoil this beautiful child whom he
could not even have the vain luxury of thinking he had produced to the
admiring world. Softly, exquisitely lovely was that little girl; and
every day she increased in the charm of her person, and in the caressing
fascination of her childish ways. Her temper was so sweet and docile,
that fondness and petting, however injudiciously exhibited, only seemed
yet more to bring out the colours of a grateful and tender nature.
Perhaps the measured kindness of more reserved affection might have been
the true way of spoiling one whose instincts were all for exacting and
returning love. She was a plant that suns less warm might have nipped
and chilled. But beneath an uncapricious and unclouded sunshine she
sprang up in a luxurious bloom of heart and sweetness of disposition.

Every one, even those who did not generally like children, delighted
in this charming creature, excepting only Mr. Lumley Ferrers. But that
gentleman, less mild than Pope's Narcissa,--

"To make a wash, had gladly stewed the child!"

He had seen how very common it is for a rich man, married late in life,
to leave everything to a young widow and her children by her former
marriage, when once attached to the latter; and he sensibly felt that
he himself had but a slight hold over Templeton by the chain of the
affections. He resolved, therefore, as much as possible, to alienate his