They had now got half way between the two cities, and Charles took a seat by the side of the driver, with the intention, as he expressed himself, of stretching his legs: the carriage was open and light, so that all of the figures of the two young men could be seen by the ladies, as well as their conversation heard. Charles never appeared to less advantage in his person, thought Julia, than now, seated by the side of the manly and noble Antonio. The figure of Charles was light, and by no means without grace; yet it did not strike the fancy of our heroine as so fit to shield and support her through life, as the more robust person of his companion. Julia herself was, in form, the counterpart of her mind--she was light, airy, and beautifully softened in all her outlines. It was impossible to mistake her for any thing but a lady, and one of the gentlest passions and sentiments. She felt her own weakness, and would repose it on the manly strength of Antonio. "Which do you call the best of your horses?" asked Charles, so soon as he had got himself comfortably seated. "The off--but both are true as steel," was the laconic reply. The comparison was new to Julia, and it evidently denoted a mind accustomed to the contemplation of arms. "How long have you followed the business of a driver, Tony?" said Charles, in the careless manner of a gentleman when he wishes to introduce familiarity with an inferior, by seeming to take an interest in the other's affairs. Julia felt indignant at the freedom of his manner, and particularly at the epithet of "Tony"--yet her lover did not in the least regard either--or rather his manner exhibited no symptoms of displeasure--he has made up his mind, thought Julia, to support his disguise, and it is best for us both that he should. "Ever since I was sixteen I have been used to horses," was the reply of Antonio to the question of Charles--Julia smiled at the ambiguity of the answer, and was confirmed in her impression that he had left college at that age to serve in the cavalry. "You must understand them well by this time," continued Charles, glancing his eye at his companion as if to judge of his years--"You must be forty"--Julia fidgeted a little at this guess of Charles, but soon satisfied herself with the reflection that his disguise contributed to the error. "My age is very deceiving," said the man; "I have seen great hardships in my time, both of body and mind." Here Julia could scarcely breathe through anxiety. Every syllable that he uttered was devoured with eager curiosity by the enamoured girl--he knew that she was a listener, and that she understood his disguise; and doubtless meant, in that indirect manner, to acquaint her with the incidents of his life. It was clear that he indicated his age to be less than what his appearance would have led her to believe--his sufferings, his cruel sufferings had changed him. "The life of a coachman is not hard," said Charles.