ound
and descended on the other side.

His mind was very full of Lizzie Eustace, and full also of Lucy
Morris. If it were to be asserted here that a young man may be
perfectly true to a first young woman while he is falling in love
with a second, the readers of this story would probably be offended.
But undoubtedly many men believe themselves to be quite true while
undergoing this process, and many young women expect nothing else
from their lovers. If only he will come right at last, they are
contented. And if he don't come right at all,--it is the way of the
world, and the game has to be played over again. Lucy Morris, no
doubt, had lived a life too retired for the learning of such useful
forbearance, but Frank Greystock was quite a proficient. He still
considered himself to be true to Lucy Morris, with a truth seldom
found in this degenerate age,--with a truth to which he intended to
sacrifice some of the brightest hopes of his life,--with a truth
which, after much thought, he had generously preferred to his
ambition. Perhaps there was found some shade of regret to tinge the
merit which he assumed on this head, in respect of the bright things
which it would be necessary that he should abandon; but, if so, the
feeling only assisted him in defending his present conduct from any
aspersions his conscience might bring against it. He intended to
marry Lucy Morris,--without a shilling, without position, a girl who
had earned her bread as a governess, simply because he loved her.
It was a wonder to himself that he, a lawyer, a man of the world, a
member of Parliament, one who had been steeped up to his shoulders in
the ways of the world, should still be so pure as to be capable of
such a sacrifice. But it was so; and the sacrifice would undoubtedly
be made,--some day. It would be absurd in one conscious of such high
merit to be afraid of the ordinary social incidents of life. It is
the debauched broken drunkard who should become a teetotaller, and
not the healthy hard-working father of a family who never drinks a
drop of wine till dinner-time. He need not be afraid of a glass of
champagne when, on a chance occasion, he goes to a picnic. Frank
Greystock was now going to his picnic; and, though he meant to be
true to Lucy Morris, he had enjoyed his glass of champagne with
Lizzie Eustace under the rocks. He was thinking a good deal of his
champagne when he lost his way.

What a wonderful woman was his cousin Lizzie;--and so u