"Oh, yes," said Lumley, almost bitterly, "and a pack of hounds, and a
French cook; they will all suit my fortune very well."

"You are more thoughtful on pecuniary matters than you used to be," said
the uncle.

"Sir," replied Ferrers, solemnly, "in a very short time I shall be what
is called a middle-aged man."

"Humph!" said the host.

There was another silence. Lumley was a man, as we have said, or
implied before, of great knowledge of human nature, at least the
ordinary sort of it, and he now revolved in his mind the various courses
it might be wise to pursue towards his rich relation. He saw that, in
delicate fencing, his uncle had over him the same advantage that a tall
man has over a short one with the physical sword-play;--by holding his
weapon in a proper position, he kept the other at arm's length. There
was a grand reserve and dignity about the man who had something to give
away, of which Ferrers, however actively he might shift his ground and
flourish his rapier, could not break the defence. He determined,
therefore, upon a new game, for which his frankness of manner admirably
adapted him. Just as he formed this resolution, Mrs. Templeton rose,
and with a gentle bow, and soft though languid smile, glided from the
room. The two gentlemen resettled themselves, and Templeton pushed the
bottle to Ferrers.

"Help yourself, Lumley! your travels seem to have deprived you of your
high spirits--you are pensive."