"Stay till I come back, Charles," said Mowbray; "you and Denis can chat under the tree yonder--and he will tell you whether Roseland can accommodate a guest. He has staid with me more than once." With which words Mowbray passed on. Hoffland looked at his companion; and a single glance told him all he wished to know. Jack Denis--for he was scarcely known by any other name--was an open-hearted, honest, straight-forward young fellow of twenty, with light-brown hair, frank eyes, and a cordial bearing which at once put every body at their ease. Still there was a latent flash in the eye which denoted an excitable temper--not seldom united, as the reader must have observed, with such a character. The young men strolled across to the tree which Mowbray had indicated, and sat down on a wicker seat which was placed at its foot. "Mr. Mowbray said you could tell me about Roseland," Hoffland said, raising his dark eyes as was his habit beneath his low-drooping hat; "I am sure it is a pretty place from his description--is it not?" "Oh, beautiful!" said Denis warmly; "you should go and see it." "I think I will." "It is not far, and indeed is scarcely half an hour's ride from town--there to the west." "Yes; and Miss Lucy is very pretty, is she not?" Denis colored slightly, and replied: "I think so." Hoffland with his quick eye discerned the slight color, and said somewhat maliciously: "You know her very well, do you not?" "Why, tolerably," said Denis. "I must make her acquaintance," continued Hoffland, "for I am sure from Mowbray's description of her she is a gem. He invited me to come this evening." "You refused?" "Yes." "You should not have done so, sir: Mowbray is not prodigal of such invitations." Hoffland laughed. "But I had a reason," he said mischievously. "What, pray--if I may ask?" "Oh, certainly, you may ask," Hoffland replied, smiling; "though it may appear very vain to you--my reason." "Hum!" said Denis, not knowing what to think of his new acquaintance, whose quizzing manner, to use the technical word, did not please him. "I told Mowbray very frankly, however, why I could not come this evening," pursued Hoffland, with the air of one child teasing another; "and I think he appreciated my reason. I was afraid on Miss Lucy's account." "Afraid!" "Yes." "On Lucy's account!" "On _Miss_ Lucy's account," said Hoffland, emphasizing the "Miss." "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."