That afternoon Frank took a long walk by himself over the mountains,
nearly to the cottage and back again; and on his return was informed that
Lady Eustace was ill, and had gone to bed. At any rate, she was too unwell
to come down to dinner. He, therefore, and Miss Macnulty sat down to dine,
and passed the evening together without other companionship. Frank had
resolved during his walk that he would leave Portray the next day; but had
hardly resolved upon anything else. One thing, however, seemed certain to
him. He was engaged to marry Lucy Morris, and to that engagement he must
be true. His cousin was very charming, and had never looked so lovely in
his eyes as when she had been confessing her love for him. And he had
wondered at and admired her courage, her power of language, and her force.
He could not quite forget how useful would be her income to him. And,
added to this, there was present to him an unwholesome feeling, ideas
absolutely at variance with those better ideas which had prompted him when
he was writing his offer to Lucy Morris in his chambers, that a woman such
as was his cousin Lizzie was fitter to be the wife of a man thrown, as he
must be, into the world, than a dear, quiet, domestic little girl such as
Lucy Morris.
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