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I cannot prevent myself from speaking of it it makes me the merest boy; and now I say that it is far too strong to be dispelled in any degree by merriment. Mirth and joy and festive scenes obliterate some annoyances those vague disquietudes which oppress some persons; they are scarcely a balm for sorrow, real sorrow." Hoffland held down his head and sighed.
The consequence was that Miss Lucy extricated her hand from his grasp, and drew back with some hauteur; whereupon Hoffland assumed an expression of such mortification and childlike dissatisfaction, that Mowbray, who had witnessed this strange scene, could not suppress a smile.
"Oh, well, sir," said Denis, with a slight air of coldness; "I don't deny that I was wrong in so speaking of a lady, but I don't see that you had the right to correct me." "Why, Mr. Denis," said Hoffland smiling, "you take my little speeches too seriously." "No, sir; and if I showed some hastiness of temper, excuse me I believe it is my failing."
"Who is it, pray?" "Miss Philippa " "Stop!" cried Hoffland. "I never could bear that name. I am determined never to court, marry, or even escort a Philippa. Dreadful name! And I hope you won't mention this Miss Philippa Somebody again!" With which words Hoffland laughed. "Very well," said Lucy; "suppose you come and amuse me at the ball going thither alone?" "Oh! myself and Mr.
Mowbray sat down and examined some papers which he took from his pocket; then trained a flowering vine from the window-sill to a nail in the wall without, for he was very fond of flowers; then, bethinking himself that Hoffland was his guest, turned to go into the garden. As he did so, he caught sight of a horseman approaching the cottage; and soon this horseman drew near enough to be recognised.
"I don't think I have time," he said laughing; "but I'll wait for you here: the sun is warm, but I can easily protect my face by holding my handkerchief to it." And taking up his position in the vestibule, so to speak, of the shop, Hoffland placed himself as much out of view as possible, and waited.
Mowbray raised his head calmly, and yielding like all lovers to the temptation to pour into the bosom of his friend those troubled thoughts which oppressed his heart, said to his companion: "The woman we were speaking of the other day." "You have not told me her name," said Hoffland. "It is useless." "Why?" "Because she is lost to me." "Lost?" "For ever."
Lucy had always been very kind and gentle to him before; and though her manner had not changed toward him, still her evident preference for the society and conversation of the student Hoffland caused him a bitter pang. Denis sincerely loved the bright-faced young girl, and no one who has not loved can comprehend the sinking of the heart which preference for another occasions.
Mowbray looked with an amazed and puzzled air at Hoffland, and Denis did not know what to say or how to look. Lucy, after laughing uninterruptedly for nearly five minutes, suddenly remembered the indecorum of this strange exhibition; so, drying her eyes, and assuming a demure and business-like air, she took a small basket of keys, and apologizing for her departure, went to attend to supper.
That is a tolerably accurate history of most duels," added Mowbray coldly; "you will not deny it." Hoffland made no reply. "You will not deny it because it is true," said Mowbray; "it is what every man knows and feels and sees. You think it strange, then, that they act as they do, in this perfect subservience to woman, knowing what I have said is true.
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