Within a few weeks of his recovery from his accident Tom Dimsdale was to go up for his first professional examination, and his father, who had now retired from practice with a fair fortune, remained in Edinburgh until that event should come off.  There had been some difficulty in persuading Girdlestone to give his consent to this prolongation of his ward’s leave, but the old merchant was very much engrossed with his own affairs about that time, which made him more amenable than he might otherwise have been.  The two travellers continued, therefore, to reside in their Princes Street hotel, but the student held on to his lodgings in Howe Street, where he used to read during the morning and afternoon.  Every evening, however, he managed to dine at the Royal, and would stay there until his father packed him off to his books once more.  It was in vain for him to protest and to plead for another half-hour.  The physician was inexorable.  When the fated hour came round the unhappy youth slowly gathered together his hat, his gloves, and his stick, spreading out that operation over the greatest possible extent of time which it could by any means be made to occupy.  He would then ruefully bid his kinsfolk adieu, and retire rebelliously to his books.

Very soon, however, he made a discovery.  From a certain seat in the Princes Street Gardens it was possible to see the interior of the sitting-room in which the visitors remained after dinner.  From the time when this fact dawned upon him, his rooms in the evening knew him no more.  The gardens were locked at night, but that was a mere trifle.  He used to scramble over the railings like a cat, and then, planting himself upon the particular seat, he would keep a watch upon the hotel window until the occupants of the room retired to rest.  It might happen that his cousin remained invisible.  Then he would return to his rooms in a highly dissatisfied state, and sit up half the night protesting against fate and smoking strong black tobacco.  On the other hand, if he had the good luck to see the graceful figure of his old playfellow, he felt that that was the next best thing to being actually in her company, and departed eventually in a more contented frame of mind.  Thus, when Dr. Dimsdale fondly imagined his son to be a mile away grappling with the mysteries of science, that undutiful lad was in reality perched within sixty yards of him, with his thoughts engrossed by very different matters.

Kate could not fail to understand what was going on.  However young and innocent a girl may be, there is always some subtle feminine instinct which warns her that she is loved.  Then first she realizes that she has passed the shadowy frontier line which divides the child-life from that of the woman.  Kate felt uneasy and perplexed, and half involuntarily she changed her manner towards him.