--And so
the storm raged all the way home. His only comfort lay in saying over
and over again that Kate could not be in love with him yet.
But if he had seen Kate, that same evening, looking up into Beauchamp's
face with a beauty in her own such as he had never beheld there, a
beauty more than her face could hold, and overflowing in light from her
eyes, he would have found this poor reed of comfort break in his hand
and pierce his heart. Nor could all his hatred have blinded him to the
fact that Beauchamp looked splendid--his pale face, with its fine,
regular, clear-cut features, reflecting the glow of hers, and his
Highland dress setting off to full advantage his breadth of shoulders
and commanding height. Kate had at last found one to whom she could
look up, in whom she could trust!
He had taken her by storm, and yet not without well-laid schemes. For
instance, having discovered her admiration of Byron, instead of setting
himself, like Alec, to make himself acquainted with that poet, by which
he could have gained no advantage over her, he made himself her pupil,
and listened to everything she had to say about Byron as to a new
revelation. But, at the same time, he began to study Shelley; and, in a
few days, was able to introduce, with sufficient application, one or
two passages gathered from his pages.
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