was devoted, and Lucy was the Master's
guide upon the way. Henry, it is true, accompanied them, and took from
their walk the air of a tete-a-tete, while, in reality, it was little
else, considering the variety of circumstances which occurred to prevent
the boy from giving the least attention to what passed between his
companions. Now a rook settled on a branch within shot; anon a hare
crossed their path, and Henry and his greyhound went astray in pursuit
of it; then he had to hold a long conversation with the forester, which
detained him a while behind his companions; and again he went to examine
the earth of a badger, which carried him on a good way before them.

The conversation betwixt the Master and his sister, meanwhile, took
an interesting, and almost a confidential, turn. She could not help
mentioning her sense of the pain he must feel in visiting scenes so well
known to him, bearing now an aspect so different; and so gently was
her sympathy expressed, that Ravenswood felt it for a moment as a full
requital of all his misfortunes. Some such sentiment escaped him, which
Lucy heard with more of confusion than displeasure; and she may be
forgiven the imprudence of listening to such language, considering that
the situation in which she was placed by her father seemed to authorise
Ravenswood to use it. Yet she made an effort to turn the conversation,
and she succeeded; for the Master also had advanced farther than he
intended, and his conscience had instantly checked him when he found
himself on the verge of speaking of love to the daughter of Sir William
Ashton.

They now approached the hut of Old Alice, which had of late been
rendered more comfortable, and presented an appearance less picturesque,
perhaps, but far neater than before. The old woman was on her accustomed
seat beneath the weeping birch, basking, with the listless enjoyment of
age and infirmity, in the beams of the autumn sun. At the arrival of
her visitors she turned her head towards them. "I hear your step, Miss
Ashton," she said, "but the gentleman who attends you is not my lord,
your father."

"And why should you think so, Alice?" said Lucy; "or how is it possible
for you to judge so accurately by the sound of a step, on this firm
earth, and in the open air?"

"My hearing, my child, has been sharpened by my blindness, and I can now
draw conclusions from the slightest sounds, which formerly reached my
ears as unheeded as they now approach yours.