cruel that they
should not be left in her hands."

"So it will be, sir, if she will consent to do as you and I wish."

"Wish! Pshaw!" Then he repeated his grunts, turning his shoulder
round against his nephew, and affecting to read the newspaper
which he had held in his hand during the conversation. It must be
acknowledged that the part to be played by the intended heir was very
difficult. He could perceive that his uncle hated him, but he could
not understand that he might best lessen that hatred by relieving his
uncle of his presence. There he sat looking at the empty grate, and
pretending now and again to read an old newspaper which was lying on
the table, while his uncle fumed and grunted. During every moment
that was so passed Uncle Indefer was asking himself whether that
British custom as to male heirs was absolutely essential to the
welfare of the country. Here were two persons suggested to his
mind, one of whom was to be his future successor. One of them was
undoubtedly the sweetest human being that had ever crossed his path;
the other,--as he was inclined to think at the present moment,--was
the least sweet. And as they were to him, would they not be to the
tenants whose welfare was to depend so much on the future owner of
the property? The longer that he endured the presence of the man the
more desirous did he feel of turning to the drawer which was close at
hand, and destroying the topmost of those documents which lay there
tied in a bundle together.

But he did not allow himself to be at once driven to a step so
unreasonable. The young man had done nothing which ought to offend
him,--had, indeed, only obeyed him in coming down to South Wales.
That custom of the country was good and valid, and wise. If
he believed in anything of the world worldly, he believed in
primogeniture in respect of land. Though Isabel was ever so sweet,
duty was duty. Who was he that he should dare to say to himself that
he could break through what he believed to be a law on his conscience
without a sin? If he might permit himself to make a special exemption
for himself in the indulgence of his own affection, then why might
not another, and another, and so on? Did he not know that it would
have been better that the whole thing should have been settled for
him by an entail? And, if so, how could it be right that he should
act in opposition to the spirit of such an entail, merely because he
had the power to do so? Thus he argued wi