‘I hope he is. He has not been in bed for three nights. I will go and see.’
He was moving to the door without lingering for a word more. She stopped him by saying, ‘Pray hear first what I have settled with Mrs. Murrell.’
‘She told me,’ said Robert. ‘Is it Owen’s wish?’
‘It ought to be. It must. Every public justice must be paid now.’
‘Is it quite well judged, unless it were his strong desire? Have you considered the feelings of Mr. Prendergast or your relations?’
‘There is nothing I consider more. If Charles thinks it more disgraceful to marry a Christian for love than a Jewess for money, he shall see that we are not of the same opinion.’
‘I never pretend to judge of your motives.’
‘Mercy, what have I gone and said?’ ejaculated Lucilla, as the door closed after him. ‘Why did I let it out, and make him think me a vixen? Better than a hypocrite though! I always professed to show my worst. What’s come to me, that I can’t go on so contentedly? He must hear the Charteris’ sentiments, though, that he may not think mine a gratuitous affront.’
Her explanation was at her tongue’s end, but Robert only reappeared with her brother, whom he had found dressing. Owen just greeted his sister, but asked no questions, only dropping heavily into a chair, and let her bring him his breakfast. So young was he, still wanting six weeks to years of discretion; so youthful his appearance in spite of his size and strength, that it was almost absurd to regard him as a widower, and expect him to act as a man of mature age and feeling. There was much of the boy in his excessive and freely-indulged lassitude, and his half-sullen, half-shy reserve towards his sister. Knowing he had been in conversation with Robert, she felt it hard that before her he only leant his elbows on the table, yawned, and talked of his stiffness, until his friend rising to leave them, he exerted himself to say, ‘Don’t go, Fulmort.’
‘I am afraid I must. I leave you to your sister.’ (She noted that it was not ‘Lucy.’)