you should know. And now, Richard, I may add that there is something
else you should know. You should know that it depends entirely upon your
conduct now, whether you are to see your father's heart for ever divided
from you, and a new family at Raynham. You do not understand? I will
explain. Brothers and sisters are excellent things for young people, but
a new brood of them can hardly be acceptable to a young man. In fact,
they are, and must be, aliens. I only tell you what I have heard on good
authority. Don't you understand now? Foolish boy! if you do not humour
him, he will marry her. Oh! I am sure of it. I know it. And this you
will drive him to. I do not warn you on the score of your prospects, but
of your feelings. I should regard such a contingency, Richard, as a
final division between you. Think of the scandal! but alas, that is the
least of the evils."

It was Mrs. Doria's object to produce an impression, and avoid an
argument. She therefore left him as soon as she had, as she supposed,
made her mark on the young man. Richard was very silent during the
speech, and save for an exclamation or so, had listened attentively. He
pondered on what his aunt said. He loved Lady Blandish, and yet he did
not wish to see her Lady Feverel. Mrs. Doria laid painful stress on the
scandal, and though he did not give his mind to this, he thought of it.
He thought of his mother. Where was she? But most his thoughts recurred
to his father, and something akin to jealousy slowly awakened his heart
to him. He had given him up, and had not latterly felt extremely filial;
but he could not bear the idea of a division in the love of which he had
ever been the idol and sole object. And such a man, too! so good! so
generous! If it was jealousy that roused the young man's heart to his
father, the better part of love was also revived in it. He thought of
old days: of his father's forbearance, his own wilfulness. He looked on
himself, and what he had done, with the eyes of such a man. He