“I do nothing of the kind,” he said, angrily; “Arthur how can you be so absurd!” Pausing for a moment, the ludicrous nature of the situation occurred to him, and, with difficulty restraining a laugh, he turned the conversation by seizing his friend’s carpet-bag, exclaiming as he did so, “Come, give it up, of course I’m not going to let you carry it; you’re looking horridly thin and pale, as Londoners always do: is he not, Al--a--, Miss Hazlehurst? What! you refuse; give it up this instant, or I declare I’ll carry you and it too.” During the playful struggle which ensued for the possession of the carpet-bag, in which contention Harry was soon victorious, Alice, glad to obtain a few minutes in which to compose herself, walked on. As the young men hastened to rejoin her, Hazlehurst, laying his hand on Coverdale’s arm, inquired “How has it all gone off? Crane hasn’t ventured to offer yet, of course?” “Yes, by Jove, he has though!” was the reply; “the old muff contrived to pop last night--confound him!--when I was out of the room, and hadn’t a chance of throwing anything at his head.” “And Alice?” inquired the brother, eagerly; but his eagerness frustrated its own purpose (no uncommon case by the way), for, pronouncing the name in a louder key than he was aware of, the fair owner thereof stopped short, and thus prevented the possibility of further explanation. As they continued their homeward walk, Arthur, who was a quick observer, soon detected a change in Harry’s manner towards his sister; for which, at first, he felt excessively puzzled to account. A respectful tenderness was apparent in his tone when he addressed her, and he exhibited a degree of eager, almost affectionate, solicitude for her ease and comfort, in all the minor incidents of a country walk, such as Hazlehurst, during the whole of their intimacy, had never before seen him evince towards a young lady. “What has come to Harry now, I wonder?” thus ran his reflections; “if it were any one in the world but him, I should say he was flirting with Alice; but Harry never flirted in his life, so that is impossible.” He pondered for a moment, then an idea struck him. “I see it now; my father has forced the poor child to accept old Crane; Harry knows it, and the pity his kind, warm-hearted nature leads him to feel towards her, influences his manner. They were each coming to tell me all that has occurred, and have met by accident; yes, that must be it.” In order, however, more fully to satisfy himself of the correctness of his theory, he observed, in his usual light, jesting manner, “I think Mr. Coverdale, it behoves me, as ‘a man and a brother,’ to inquire how you happen to be marching about the country, _tête-à-tête_ with my sister, at this unconscionably early hour?”