bulwarks. She had said his conduct was not "chivalrous" towards a young girl. That word started a new train of self-examination. He knew that on one occasion he had acted chivalrously on her behalf, where many men would have hesitated to interfere in what did not concern them. But had his thoughts about her always been those that the strong protector should have for the young and weak? She loved admiration, and she was stubborn. She paid no attention to what he said, and was even saucy at times. But then, upon the other hand, she was very young, and ignorant—her cleverness notwithstanding. Was Hatty right; and had he shown no chivalry in his intolerance of her aggravating ways, in his assumption that she tried to "devour" every man she came near? That was not chivalrous, he owned. It was a declaration begotten of jealousy. Yes, Hatty was right. He recognized now, though he would not admit to his sister, that a strong personal feeling coloured all his thoughts about this English girl.
He slept very little that night, and found in the morning—the first cold one of the autumn—that Hatty was no better. Her cough had kept her awake, she said, and she felt unequal to the exertion of dressing. Alaric went off to the studio, and soon afterwards Elizabeth paid her a visit. She did not stay long with her friend, for she saw that talking made Hatty cough; but, on ascending the stair to her atelier, she stopped before Baring's door.
It was not premeditated. A sudden impulse made her knock. He opened the door, and his surprise at seeing her was manifest.
