“I would rather see your brother _dead_, than the husband of this young creature!” replied Mr. Hardcastle, rising with emotion; “or rather, let me implore death for my relief, before I see him pointed at as the base and interested purloiner of this girl’s affections! I know too well, my child, the malignity of human nature. In a case like this, no allowance would be made, by far the greater part of the world, for motives more pure and honourable than a sordid consideration of her wealth,—her attractive beauty, and his age of passion. The natural results of undepraved youth and innocence would be set aside, in order to brand that father with infamy, who thus provided for his own son, by cheating another of his daughter. But this is not all: you know the tenor of Mrs. Dawson’s will. My honour and reputation have hung on this child’s life from the hour she has been under my roof; for her death would secure to me her grandmother’s property. Your dear mother, in this single instance, opposed her opinion to mine. On pointing out to her the _hazard_ of receiving into our hands a child thus circumstanced, she laughed at my fears, and asked me, whether her husband had so lived, as to be in danger of any imputation on his integrity. ‘Be more just to yourself,’ said she, with honest pride; ‘the virtue which has marked your life, will be your security. You stand beyond the reach of that malice which would dare to conceive that Hardcastle would take advantage of the helpless innocence of an infant committed to his care.’ She urged her promise to Mrs. Cowley, and to Mrs. Dawson, and with dignity, added, that Rachel Cowley could be no where so secure as with _her heirs_. ‘We will perform our duty, my dear husband,’ said she, ‘and trust to Heaven for a recompence, of more value than her money.’ I was conquered; and Heaven in its mercy has preserved this child’s life. But what think you would be the conclusions drawn from Horace’s marrying her? They are too apparent not to be seen. ‘Foiled in one expectation,’ it will be said, ‘Hardcastle has succeeded in a more lucrative project. _A marriage_ will not only secure to his son Mrs. Dawson’s fortune, but Mr. Cowley’s princely revenue also; and by favouring his son’s views, and entangling the girl’s heart, he has enriched his family.’ How would you repel a scandal of this nature, my dear child? Not by saying, that Miss Cowley loved your brother; for that would only prove that she had been betrayed by the insidious flattery to which she was exposed.—I have been too heedless,” added Mr. Hardcastle, “my mind of late has been——!” Mr. Hardcastle’s firmness yielded—he pressed Lucy to his bosom, and wept audibly.