And thus, short, sharp, and decisive, began and ended “Harry Coverdale’s Courtship:” all the results, good and evil, “that came of it,” may be learned by any reader sufficiently persevering to peruse that which remains to be told of this veracious history.
CHAPTER XIV.—DECIDEDLY EMBARRASSING.
Alice and Harry were so deeply engrossed with each other and so absorbed in the interchange of those mysterious but delightful nothings, which form the staple of lovers’ communications, and which, deeply interesting to the happy pair, appear to the unsusceptible public the veriest nonsense imaginable, that they were still some distance from the station when the train rushed up, sneezed out a few passengers, and, snorting and coughing, dashed off like a well-disposed fiery dragon, warranted quiet to ride and drive. Walking on rapidly they soon discovered Arthur, embarrassed by a carpet-bag and a mackintosh, making the best of his way to meet them; the moment he came within speaking distance, he exclaimed—
“What do I behold! Harry Coverdale with a young lady on his arm! Surely the age of miracles is returning! well I never did! did you ever? And Alice looking so deliciously self-satisfied and unconscious, too! Why you stupid little owl (you’re very like one, with your hooked nose and great eyes), don’t you know you’re boring him to death? he cares for nothing but horses, dogs, and guns; and above all perfectly abominates women.” Alice smiled, and attempted to make a playful rejoinder, but in vain,—her heart was too full; had she spoken at that moment she must have burst into tears. The speech affected Harry differently.
“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.