Mr. Ferrers had deeply studied the character of his uncle, as a prudent
speculator studies the qualities of a mine in which he means to invest
his capital, and much of his present proceedings was intended to act
upon the uncle as well as upon the world. He saw that the more he could
obtain for himself, 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