"Yes, we live there--no one but Lucy and myself; that is to say, except one single servant reserved from the estate." "Roseville?" murmured Hoffland; "I think I have passed it." "Very probably; it is just yonder, beyond the woods--a cottage embosomed in trees, and with myriads of roses around it, which Lucy takes great pleasure in cultivating." "I think I should like to know your sister," said Hoffland. "Why, nothing is easier: come with me this evening." "This evening?" "Why not?" "How could I?" laughed Hoffland; "your house is so small, that without some warning I should probably incommode you." "Oh, not at all--we have a very good room for you. You know in Virginia we always keep the 'guest's chamber,' however poor we are." "Hum!" said Hoffland. "Come!" said Mowbray. Hoffland began to laugh. "How could I go?" he asked. "Why, ride." "Ride?" "Certainly." "In what manner, pray?" "On horseback," said Mowbray; "I can easily procure you a horse." Hoffland turned his head aside to conceal his laughter. "No, I thank you," he said. "You refuse?" "Point-blank." Mowbray looked at him. "You are a strange person, Charles," he said; "you seem half man, half child--I might almost say half girl." "Oh, Ernest, to hurt my feelings so!" said the boy, turning away his face. Mowbray found himself reflecting that he had uttered a very unkind speech. "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. Hoffland's lip was puckered up, until it resembled a rose-leaf rumpled by the finger of a school-girl. "Then there is another objection to my going out this evening, Ernest," he said: "you see I return to the subject." "What objection?" "You ought to tell your sister what a fascinating young man I am, and put her upon her guard----" "Charles!" cried Mowbray, with a strong disposition to laugh; "you must pardon my saying that your vanity is the most amusing I have ever encountered." "Is it!" asked Hoffland, smiling; "but come, don't you think me fascinating?" "Upon my word," said Mowbray, "were I to utter the exact truth, I should say yes; for I have never yet found myself so completely conciliated by a stranger. Just consider that we have not known each other a week yet----" "But four days!" laughed Hoffland; "be accurate!" "Well, that makes it all the stronger: we have known each other but four days, and here we are jesting with every word--'Charles' here, 'Ernest' there--as though we had been acquainted twenty years."