Whether Elsie saw into his object or not was more than he could tell.  His idea was, after having conciliated the good-will of all about her as far as possible, to make himself first a habit and then a necessity with the girl,—­not to spring any trap of a declaration upon her until tolerance had grown into such a degree of inclination as her nature was like to admit.  He had succeeded in the first part of his plan.  He was at liberty to prolong his visit at his own pleasure.  This was not strange; these three persons, Dudley Venner, his daughter, and his nephew, represented all that remained of an old and honorable family.  Had Elsie been like other girls, her father might have been less willing to entertain a young fellow like Dick as an inmate; but he had long outgrown all the slighter apprehensions which he might have had in common with all parents, and followed rather than led the imperious instincts of his daughter.  It was not a question of sentiment, but of life and death, or more than that,—­some dark ending, perhaps, which would close the history of his race with disaster and evil report upon the lips of all coming generations.

As to the thought of his nephew’s making love to his daughter, it had almost passed from his mind.  He had been so long in the habit of looking at Elsie as outside of all common influences and exceptional in the law of her nature, that it was difficult for him to think of her as a girl to be fallen in love with.  Many persons are surprised, when others court their female relatives; they know them as good young or old women enough,—­aunts, sisters, nieces, daughters, whatever they may be,—­but never think of anybody’s falling in love with them, any more than of their being struck by lightning.

But in this case there were special reasons, in addition to the common family delusion,—­reasons which seemed to make it impossible that she should attract a suitor.  Who would dare to marry Elsie?  No, let her have the pleasure, if it was one, at any rate the wholesome excitement, of companionship; it might save her from lapsing into melancholy or a worse form of madness.  Dudley Venner had a kind of superstition, too, that, if Elsie could only outlive three septenaries, twenty-one years, so that, according to the prevalent idea, her whole frame would have been thrice made over, counting from her birth, she would revert to the natural standard of health of mind and feelings from which she had been so long perverted.  The thought of any other motive than love being sufficient to induce Richard to become her suitor had not occurred to him.  He had married early, at that happy period when interested motives are least apt to influence the choice; and his single idea of marriage was, that it was the union of persons naturally drawn towards each other by some mutual attraction.  Very simple, perhaps; but he had lived lonely for many years since his wife’s death, and judged the hearts of others, most of all of his brother’s son, by his own.  He had often thought whether, in case of Elsie’s dying or being necessarily doomed to seclusion, he might not adopt this nephew and make him his heir; but it had not occurred to him that Richard might wish to become his son-in-law for the sake of his property.