Ravenswood, with a mind incalculably deeper and more powerful than that
of his companion, had his own anxious subjects of reflection, which
wrought for him the same unhappiness that sheer enui and want of
occupation inflicted on his companion. The first sight of Lucy Ashton
had been less impressive than her image proved to be upon reflection. As
the depth and violence of that revengeful passion by which he had been
actuated in seeking an interview with the father began to abate by
degrees, he looked back on his conduct towards the daughter as harsh
and unworthy towards a female of rank and beauty. Her looks of grateful
acknowledgment, her words of affectionate courtesy, had been repelled
with something which approached to disdain; and if the Master of
Ravenswood had sustained wrongs at the hand of Sir William Ashton, his
conscience told him they had been unhandsomely resented towards his
daughter. When his thoughts took this turn of self-reproach, the
recollection of Lucy Ashton's beautiful features, rendered yet more
interesting by the circumstances in which their meeting had taken place,
made an impression upon his mind at once soothing and painful.
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