Harry laughed slightly as with heightened colour he replied, “You are too clever, Miss Marsden. I by no means approve of being subjected to such subtle _clairvoyance_; however, I may as well honestly confess that you are right, and that a feeling more akin to pride than to humility has prevented my seeking to rival Mr. D’Almayne.” “_We_ have found you out at last though,” returned Emily, “and I for one will do my best to punish you for your idleness, by making you sing every song I can think of. I don’t believe it was either pride or humility which kept you silent--it was nothing but sheer idleness.” “Judging of her principles from her practice, I can readily believe Miss Emily Hazlehurst must consider silence to result from some reprehensible cause,” replied Coverdale, with a meaning smile. Of course Emily made a pert rejoinder, and of course Coverdale was forced to sing half-a-dozen more songs, which, as he had by this time got up the steam considerably, he did in a style which won him fresh laurels but it was a remarkable fact, that from the moment in which Harry began to read aloud, Alice, although her attention had never flagged, had scarcely uttered a single word--perhaps it was because she thought the more. CHAPTER IX.--CONTAINS LITTLE ELSE SAVE MOONSHINE. Mrs. Hazlehurst was so confirmed an invalid as to be unable to walk, even so short a distance as from the drawing-room to her own bed-room, whither she was usually carried by either her husband or her son. She was in the habit of retiring at nine o’clock, but on the evening referred to in the last chapter the clock chimed the half-hour after nine, and Mr. Hazlehurst had not returned. “Mamma, dear, you are looking tired--you ought not to sit up so late!” exclaimed Alice, who had been observing her mother attentively for some minutes. “Do allow Evans to carry you up: papa is sometimes kept till eleven o’clock at these magistrates’ meetings, you know.” One great charm which Alice possessed in Harry’s eyes was her devotion to her mother, for whom she entertained an affection which was, perhaps, one of the strongest feelings of her nature. “I had rather wait, dear,” was the patient reply:--“the worthy Evans is growing fat and old, and I am always afraid of his falling; and James is very willing, poor lad, but he is so awkward that he rubs me against all the corners we pass, and only escapes knocking my brains out by a succession of miracles.” “If you would allow me to assist you, Mrs. Hazlehurst,” began Coverdale, in a hesitating voice, as though he were about to ask rather than to confer a favour--“I am sure I could carry you safely; I have observed exactly how Arthur holds you, and it would give me so much pleasure to be of use to you.” “You are very kind,” returned Mrs. Hazlehurst, while a glow of grateful surprise coloured her pale cheeks; “but I cannot bear to give you the trouble--you do not know how heavy I am.”