Mr. Morgan was a man of no principles, whose ruling passion was vanity—and this passion with him took one particular turn; he liked to be beloved by all the women of his acquaintance. The self-complacency excited by the worship of a woman, was to him the most agreeable feeling in the world. He did not flirt merely for an idle amusement, like Tom Musgrove, with an entire indifference to the feelings he excited; but he made downright serious, but clandestine love to nearly all the good-looking women with whom his practice brought him acquainted. He liked of all things to watch the gradual growth of an ardent love in the unsuspecting heart, and more than one interesting girl had had occasion to rue the day when illness had first brought her acquainted with Mr. Morgan—more than one young wife had been hurried abruptly from the neighbourhood, as was whispered, because her husband thought her too fond of the Doctor. Yet so well had he managed, and so general was the admiration he excited, that _he_ never bore a fraction of the blame which was unsparingly bestowed on the victims of his arts. This was the man, who struck by Emma's beauty, and seeing her helpless situation, had formed a deliberate plan to gain her affections, though what was to follow when she was thus added to his list of triumphs, he had not quite determined. One thing was certain, he did not mean to marry her; but the necessary evils to which he saw she was exposed, laid her he imagined, peculiarly open to temptation, and he certainly indulged in hopes and speculations, for which even the phlegmatic Robert would have kicked him out of the house, had they chanced to come to his knowledge. One great object in his attempt to remove her to Lady Fanny Allston's was, that it would give him so great an advantage over her. Lady Fanny and her daughter were both invalides, and he was in the habit of visiting them every day. This, could he place Emma there, was an important step, as it would bring him in the most advantageous position before her eyes. She would see no one else. Shut up for weeks together with an ailing child, her only recreation being an hour's drive in the pony chaise every morning, she would soon learn to look forward to his visit as the great event of the day. He should see her eyes sparkle at his approach, and feel her hand gently tremble as he pressed it. Such had been the case with her predecessor, and now that the poor girl had lost her health and spirits from disappointed affections and heart-sickening anxiety, he was coldly turning to seek another to supply her place. Little did Emma, as she listened to his sentiments of sympathy, his professions of philosophy, or his insinuations of warm interest, suspect the real motive of his actions and his friendship. His age, so much greater than hers, prevented her supposing he would feel attachment, and her own preference for Mr. Howard was a safeguard to her own affections.