His aunt had spoken of the "affair of--the Irish young lady;" and he had quite understood the sneer with which she had mentioned Kate's nationality.

Why should not an Irish girl be as good as any English girl?
Of one thing he was quite sure,--that there was much more of real life to be found on the cliffs of Moher than in the gloomy chambers of Scroope Manor.
He got up from his seat feeling absolutely at a loss how to employ himself.

Of course he could go to bed, but how terribly dull must life be in a place in which he was obliged to go to bed at ten o'clock because there was nothing to do.

And since he had been there his only occupation had been that of listening to his aunt's sermons.

He began to think that a man might pay too dearly even for being the heir to Scroope.