Was this affection?
He thought so.

Alas! what parent can trace the workings of a child's mind,--springs moved by an idle word from a nurse; a whispered conference between hirelings.

Was it possible that Lucretia had not often been menaced, as the direst evil that could befall her, with her uncle's displeasure; that long before she could be sensible of mere worldly loss or profit, she was not impressed with a vague sense of Sir Miles's power over her fate,--nay, when trampling, in childish wrath and scorn, upon some menial's irritable feelings, was it possible that she had not been told that, but for Sir Miles, she would be little better than a servant herself?
Be this as it may, all weakness is prone to dissimulate; and rare and happy is the child whose feelings are as pure and transparent as the fond parent deems them.

There is something in children, too, which seems like an instinctive deference to the aristocratic appearances which sway the world.

Sir Miles's stately person, his imposing dress, the respect with which he was surrounded, all tended to beget notions of superiority and power, to which it was no shame to succumb, as it was to Miss Black, the governess, whom the maids answered pertly, or Martha, the nurse, whom Miss Black snubbed if Lucretia tore her frock.
Sir Miles's affection once won, his penetration not, perhaps, blinded to her more evident faults, but his self-love soothed towards regarding them leniently, there was much in Lucretia's external gifts which justified the predilection of the haughty man.