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He has numbers of acquaintances and friends; you could count yours upon the fingers of one hand." "On the little finger of one hand, say," Hoffland replied, regaining his good humor. "Well," Mowbray said calmly, "then there is all the more reason for my espousing your cause since you hint that I am the little finger."
"Yes, indeed," Hoffland said, turning away his head and laughing; "better than you can, perhaps." "I doubt it." "You grown lords of the creation fancy you know so much!" said Hoffland. Mowbray caught the merry contagion, and smiling, said: "Nevertheless, I insist upon going to see if my new brother Charles is comfortably established." Hoffland bit his lip.
Denis, and repel your assault, sir," said Lucy, smiling; "I think that there is nothing very wrong in what I ask, and why then should I not have my way?" "Excellent!" cried Hoffland, with a well-satisfied expression, and a glance of intelligence directed toward Lucy.
"Do you think so?" said Hoffland, smiling. "Yes: what I have said is the tritest truth. That women admire these qualities excessively, and that men, especially young men, shape their conduct by this feminine feeling, is as true as that sunlight." "I deny it." "Very well; that proves further, Charles, that you have not observed and studied much." "Have you?" "Extensively."
And Mowbray went home with a wounded heart, which all the smiles of Philippa could not heal for Hoffland was his rival. Denis went home with a happy heart, for Lucy had smiled on him. Sir Asinus was miserable boy Bathurst was happy. The ball at the Raleigh was a true microcosm, where John smiled and James sighed, and all played on, and went away miserable or the reverse. And so it ended.
"I was about to ask you as you were kind enough to say that I could make you laugh if any one could I was about to ask, how would you like to have a wife like me?" And Hoffland burst out laughing. Ernest sighed. "I think I should like it very well to reply simply to your question." "Indeed!" "Yes." "What do you admire so much in me?" "I love more than I admire, Charles." "Do you?"
"I only meant that there was a singular mixture of character and playfulness in you, Charles," he said; "you are as changeable as the wind and quite as pleasant to my weary brow," he added, with a smile; "you smooth its wrinkles." "I'm very glad I do," said Hoffland; "but do not again utter such unfeeling words I like a girl!" "No, I will not pray pardon me," replied Mowbray.
"N o," he said; "but I believe a number of invitations are out for Denis, and others; a good fellow, Denis." "Excellent; and I suppose, therefore, you will be at the Raleigh this evening?" "Yes, about twelve I have my studies to attend to," said Hoffland, laughing; "you have no idea how much the character of Rosalind has interested me lately. I think it never seized so strongly upon my attention.
It fronted south, and seemed to be the favorite of the sun, which shone through its vine-embowered windows and lit up its drooping eaves, as it nowhere else did. A little passage led quite through the house, and by this passage Hoffland and his fair companion entered the garden.
Then Hoffland says, in a musical voice like that of a boy before his tone undergoes the disagreeable change of manhood: "You have not said how strange you thought this sudden friendship I express, Mr. Mowbray, but I am afraid you think me very strange." "No, indeed," replies Mowbray; "I know not why, but you have already taken a strong hold upon me.
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