CHAPTER V.
"Was it not strange," said Elizabeth to her friend the next morning, "that your brother happened to be walking in that direction last night, and found us? I don't know how long we might have wandered about but for him."
"Yes, it was lucky he happened to be in that direction," returned Hatty, demurely.
She was secretly much pleased. Her quick intelligence divined the truth; but neither to Elizabeth nor to her brother did she hint her belief that he had followed them to the theatre. Things must be suffered to take their own course. That Alaric felt an interest in this English girl—let him say what he would—was clear. "Encouragement," as it is called, which means more or less of interference, would do more harm than good on both sides. The only point upon which she declared she could not hold her tongue was Elizabeth's toleration of Anatole Doucet.
"The moral of your adventure is—don't walk back from a theatre alone with a man who loses his way."
"You don't like my décadent poet," laughed Elizabeth, "who tells me he is writing a poem about me? I never
