"Very well," said Hoffland, smiling mischievously; "but remember what I now say, Ernest, and remember well. The eyes are deceptive--the ears worse than deceptive. You truly have eyes and see not, ears and hear not! I think it highly probable that your lady-love, who is an excellent-hearted girl, I am convinced, intended merely to apply a last test; and if you have bounded like an impulsive horse under the spur, and tossed from her, the blame does not rest with her. And remember this too, Ernest," Hoffland went on sadly; for one of the strange peculiarities of this young man was his habit of abrupt transition from merriment to sadness, from smiles to sighs; "remember, Ernest, that your determination to see her no more has probably inflicted on this young girl's heart a cruel pang: you cannot know that she is not now shedding bitter tears at the result of her trial of your feelings! Oh! remember that it is not the poor and afflicted only who weep--it is the rich and joyous also; and the hottest tears are often shed by the eyes which seem made to dispense smiles alone!" Mowbray listened to the earnest voice in silence. A long pause followed, neither looking at the other; then Mowbray said: "You deceive yourself, Charles, if you imagine that this beautiful and wealthy young girl spends a second thought upon myself. I was to her only a passing shadow--another name to add to her long list of captives. Well! I gave her the sincere love of an honest heart, such a love as no woman has the right to spurn. She did spurn it. Well! I am not a child to sob and moan, and go and beg her on my knees to love me--no! I love her more than ever, Charles; all my boasting was mere boasting and untrue--I love her still--but that heart, and it shall not issue forth but with my life. I love her! but I will never place myself in the dust before a woman who has scorned me. Silence and self-control I have, and these will sustain me." "Oh, Ernest! Ernest!" "You seem strangely moved by my words," said Mowbray; "but you should not fancy my love so fatal. It is a delirium at times, but Heaven be thanked, it cannot drive me mad. Now let us stop speaking of these things. When I think of that young girl, all my calmness leaves me. Oh, she was so frank and true a soul, I thought!--so sincere and bold!--so lovely, and with such a strength of heart! I was deceived. Well, well--it seems to be the fate of men, to find the ideal of their hearts unworthy. Let us speak of it no further." And suppressing his emotion by a violent effort, Mowbray added in a voice perfectly calm and collected: "There is our cottage, Charles--Roseland; and I see Lucy waiting for us under the roses on the porch--she always looks for me, I believe." CHAPTER XIX. HOFFLAND EXERTS HIMSELF TO AMUSE THE COMPANY.