"Youth, youth!" he murmured; "youth, so full of joy and lightness--so careless and gay-hearted! Here is a man--or a child--who in twenty-four hours may be lying cold in death yonder, and he smiles and even laughs. Hoffland," he added, "let us cease our discussions in relation to the origin of this unhappy affair, and endeavor to decide upon the course to be pursued. With myself the matter stands thus: I have known Denis for years; he is one of my best friends; no one loves me more, I think----" "Except one," said Hoffland, laughing. "My dear Charles," said Mowbray seriously, "let us speak gravely. This affair is serious, since it involves two lives--especially serious to me, since it involves the life of a friend of many years' standing, and no less the life of one I have promised to assist, advise, and guide--yourself." "Oh," said Hoffland, with a hurt expression, "you call Mr. Denis your friend, while I--I am only 'one you have promised to advise.' Ernest, that is cruel; you have not learned yet how sensitive I am!" And Hoffland turned away. "Really, I am dealing with a child," murmured Mowbray; "let me summon all my patience." And he said aloud: "My dear Hoffland, I am not one of those men who make violent protestations and feel sudden and excessive friendships. Friendship, with me, is a tree of slow growth; and I even now wonder at the position you have been able to take in my regard, upon such a slight acquaintance. There is a frank word--all words between friends should be frank. There, I call you my friend--you are such: does that please you?" "Oh, very much," said Hoffland, smiling and banishing his sad expression instantly; "I know you are the noblest and most sincere of men." And the boy held out to his companion a small hand, which returned the pressure of Mowbray's slightly, and was then quietly withdrawn. "Well, now," said Mowbray, "let us come back to this affair. Denis will send you a challenge?" "He says so." "Well; then he will keep his promise." "Or course he will act as a man of honor throughout," said Hoffland, laughing; "I am sure of that, because he is your friend." "Pray drop these polite speeches, and let us talk plainly." "Very well, Ernest; but Denis is a good fellow, eh?" asked Hoffland, smiling. "Yes." "Brave?" "Wholly fearless." "A good swordsman!" "Very." "And with the pistol?" asked Hoffland, laughing. "The best shot in college," returned Mowbray, pleased in spite of himself at finding his companion so calm and smiling. Hoffland placed his thumb absently upon his chin--leaned upon it, and after a moment's reflection said in a business tone: "I think I'll choose swords." "You fence?" "I? Why, my dear Ernest, have you never seen me with a foil in my hand?" "Never." "Indeed? Well, I fence like the admirable Crichton himself. It was some allusion to that celebrated gentleman, in connection with myself, by the by, which excited Mr. Denis's anger." "How, pray?"