d that all the light had gone out of
her face. But that instant Beauchamp entered, and as she turned once
more to greet him, the light flashed from her face and her eyes, as if
her heart had been a fountain of rosy flame. Beauchamp was magnificent,
the rather quiet tartan of his clan being lighted up with all the
silver and jewels of which the dress admits. In the hilt of his dirk,
in his brooch, and for buttons, he wore a set of old family topazes,
instead of the commoner cairngorm, so that as he entered he flashed
golden light from the dark green cloud of his tartan. Not observing
Alec, he advanced to Kate with the confidence of an accepted lover; but
some motion of her hand or glance from her eyes warned him in time. He
looked round, started a little, and greeted him with a slight bow, of
which Alec took no notice. He then turned to Kate and began to talk in
a low tone, to which she listened with her head hanging like the
topmost bell of a wild hyacinth. As he looked, the last sickly glimmer
of Alec's hope died out in darkness. But he bore up in bitterness, and
a demon awoke in him laughing. He saw the smooth handsome face, the
veil of so much that was mean and wretched, bending over the loveliness
he loved, yet the demon in him only laughed.

It may appear strange that they should behave so like lovers in the
presence of any third person, much more in the presence of Alec. But
Beauchamp had now made progress enough to secure his revenge of
mortification; and for that, with the power which he had acquired over
Kate's sensitive nature, he drew her into the sphere of his flaunted
triumph, and made her wound Alec to the root of his vulnerable being.
Had Alec then seen his own face, he would have seen upon it the sneer
that he hated so upon that of Beauchamp. For all wickedness tends to
destroy individuality, and declining natures assimilate as they sink.

Other visitors arrived, and Alec found a strange delight in behaving as
if he knew of no hidden wound, and his mind were in a state of absolute
_neglige_. But how would he meet the cold wind blowing over the
desolate links?

Some music, and a good deal of provincial talk--not always less human
and elevating than the metropolitan--followed. Beauchamp moderated his
attentions to Kate; but Alec saw that it was in compliance with his
desire that, though reluctant, she went a second time to the piano. The
song she had just sung was insignificant enough; but the second was