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.
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