Ernest Maltravers — Volume 07Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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Ernest Maltravers — Volume 07
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
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 uncle from his young wife; trusting that, as the influence of the
wife was weakened, that of the child would be lessened also; and to
raise in Templeton's vanity and ambition an ally that might supply to
himself the want of love. He pursued his twofold scheme with masterly
art and address. He first sought to secure the confidence and regard of
the melancholy and gentle mother; and in this--for she was peculiarly
unsuspicious and inexperienced, he obtained signal and complete success.
His frankness of manner, his deferential attention, the art with which
he warded off from her the spleen or ill-humour of Mr. Templeton, the
cheerfulness that his easy gaiety threw over a very gloomy house, made
the poor lady hail his visits and trust in his friendship. Perhaps she
was glad of any interruption to /tetes-a-tetes/ with a severe and
ungenial husband, who had no sympathy for the sorrows, of whatever
nature they might be, which preyed upon her, and who made it a point of
morality to find fault wherever he could.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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