malice whatever for the punishment. He had proposed the fight,
conscious of the fact that he would be soundly beaten, but he was a bit
of a Quixote--and a lady's name was involved.

And no nurse ever tended a wounded hero more tenderly than the little
copper-haired creature of impulse who bathed the battered face of poor
Dick. Wilful and rebellious as she was, there was in Elise a deep well
of love for her brother that no other being could fathom. And it was
not his loyalty alone that had inspired it. Her solitary life had
quickened her perceptive powers, and intuitively she knew that, in the
years before him, her weak-willed, buoyant-natured brother would be
unable to meet the cross-currents of his destiny and maintain a steady
course.

But he thought it was because of his swollen eyes that she cried.




CHAPTER III.

ABOUT A TOWN HOUSE.


I.

It was perhaps not inconsistent with the character of Lady Durwent
that, although she had striven to secure the guiding of Malcolm's
development, she should find herself totally devoid of any plan for the
training of a daughter.