It was at this time that Maltravers, raising his eyes, saw the form of
Lumley Ferrers approaching towards them from the opposite end of the
terrace: at the same instant, a dark cloud crept over the sky, the
waters seemed overcast and the breeze fell: a chill and strange
presentiment of evil shot across Ernest's heart, and, like many
imaginative persons, he was unconsciously superstitious as to
presentiments.

"We are no longer alone," said he, rising; "your cousin has doubtless
learned our engagement, and comes to congratulate your suitor."

"Tell me," he continued musingly, as they walked on to meet Ferrers,
"are you very partial to Lumley? what think you of his character?--it is
one that perplexes me; sometimes I think it has changed since we parted
in Italy--sometimes I think it has not changed, but ripened."

"Lumley, I have known from a child," replied Florence, "and see much to
admire and like in him; I admire his boldness and candour; his scorn of
the world's littleness and falsehood; I like his good-nature--his
gaiety--and fancy his heart better than it may seem to the superficial
observer."

"Yet he appears to me selfish and unprincipled."

"It is from a fine contempt for the vices and follies of men that he has
contracted the habit of consulting his own resolute will--and, believing
everything done in this noisy stage of action a cheat, he has
accommodated his ambition to the fashion. Though without what is termed
genius, he will obtain a distinction and power that few men of genius
arrive at."