o be especially
doomed. Could she do better with herself than take Mr. Emilius?

Might she have chosen from all the world, Mr. Emilius was not,
perhaps, the man whom she would have selected. There were, indeed,
attributes in the man, very objectionable in the sight of some
people, which to her were not specially disagreeable. She thought him
rather good-looking than otherwise, in spite of a slight defect in
his left eye. His coal-black, glossy hair commanded and obtained her
admiration, and she found his hooky nose to be handsome. She did not
think much of the ancestral blood of which he had boasted, and hardly
believed that he would ever become a bishop. But he was popular, and
with a rich, titled wife, might become more so. Mr. Emilius and Lady
Eustace would, she thought, sound very well, and would surely make
their way in society. The man had a grasping ambition about him,
and a capacity, too, which, combined, would enable him to preach
himself into notoriety. And then in marrying Mr. Emilius, should she
determine to do so, she might be sure, almost sure, of dictating her
own terms as to settlement. With Lord Fawn, with Lord George, or even
with her cousin Frank, there would have been much difficulty. She
thought that with Mr. Emilius she might obtain the undisputed command
of her own income. But she did not quite make up her mind. She would
see him and hear what he had to say. Her income was her own, and
should she refuse Mr. Emilius, other suitors would no doubt come.

She dressed herself with considerable care,--having first thought of
receiving him in bed. But as the trial had now gone on without her,
it would be convenient that her recovery should be commenced. So she
had herself dressed in a white morning wrapper with pink bows, and
allowed the curl to be made fit to hang over her shoulder. And she
put on a pair of pretty slippers, with gilt bindings, and took a
laced handkerchief and a volume of Shelley,--and so she prepared
herself to receive Mr. Emilius. Lizzie, since the reader first knew
her, had begun to use a little colouring in the arrangement of her
face, and now, in honour of her sickness, she was very pale indeed.
But still, through the paleness, there was the faintest possible
tinge of pink colour shining through the translucent pearl powder.
Any one who knew Lizzie would be sure that, when she did paint, she
would paint well.

The conversation was at first, of course, confined to the lady's
hea