long time with his face down upon the books, when he
suddenly started and listened. He heard the sound of an opening door,
but not of the door in ordinary use. Thinking it proceeded from some
thievish intent, he kept still. There was another door, in a corner,
covered with books, but it was never opened at all. It communicated
with a part of the buildings of the quadrangle which had been used for
the abode of the students under a former economy. It had been abandoned
now for many years, as none slept any longer within the walls of the
college. Alec knew all this, but he did not know that there was also a
communication between this empty region and Mr Fraser's house; or that
the library had been used before as a _tryst_ by Beauchamp and Kate.

The door closed, and the light of a lantern flashed to the ceiling.
Wondering that such a place should excite the cupidity of
housebreakers, yet convinced that such the intruders were, Alec moved
gently into the embrasure of one of the windows, against the corner of
which abutted a screen of book-shelves. A certain light rustling,
however, startled him into doubt, and the doubt soon passed into
painful conviction.

"Why were you so unkind, Patrick?" said the voice of Kate. "You know it
kills me to sing that ballad. I cannot bear it."

"Why should you mind singing an old song your nurse taught you?"

"My nurse learned it from my mother. Oh Patrick! what _would_ my mother
say if she knew that I met you this way? You shouldn't ask me. You know
I can refuse you nothing; and you should be generous."

Alec could not hear his answer, and he knew why. That scar on his lip!
Kate's lips there!

Of course Alec ought not to have listened. But the fact was, that, for
the time, all consciousness of free will and capability of action had
vanished from his mind. His soul was but a black gulf into which poured
the Phlegethontic cataract of their conversation.

"Ah, yes, Patrick! Kisses are easy. But you hurt me terribly sometimes.
And I know why. You hate my cousin, poor boy!--and you want me to hate
him too. I wonder if you love me as much as he does!--or did; for
surely I have been unkind enough to cure him of loving me. Surely you
are not jealous of him?"

"Jealous of _him_!--I should think not!"

Human expression could have thrown no more scorn into the word.

"But you hate him."

"I don't hate him. He's not worth hating--the awkward steer!--although
I confess I have cause to disl