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 dislike him, and have some gratification in
mortifying him. But he's not a pleasant subject to me."
"His mother has been very kind to me.
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