Hoffland gave her a warning glance; and then assuming a polite and graceful smile, asked: "Pray, what were you and Mr. Denis talking of, my dear Ernest? Come, tell a fellow!" Lucy turned away and covered her face, which was crimson with laughter. "We were speaking of the quarrel which we were unfortunate enough to have, sir," said poor Denis coldly; "and I referred Mr. Mowbray to you for an account of it." "To me?" said Hoffland smiling; "why not tell him yourself?" "I did not fancy it, sir." "Why, in the world?" "Come! come!" said Mowbray smiling, and wishing to nip the new altercation in the bud; "don't let us talk any more about it. It is all ended now, and I don't care to know----" "Why, there's nothing to conceal," said Hoffland, laughing. Denis colored. "I'll tell you in an instant," laughed the boy. Lucy turned toward him; and Denis looked out of the window. "We were talking of women first," continued Hoffland; "a subject, cousin Lucy, which we men discuss much oftener than you ladies imagine----" "Indeed!" said Lucy, nearly choking with laughter. "Yes," continued the boy; "and after agreeing that Miss Theorem the mathematician was charming; Miss Quartz the geologist lovely; that Miss Affectation was very _piquante_, and Mrs. Youngwidow exceedingly fine-looking in her mourning; after having amicably interchanged our ideas on these topics, we came to discuss the celebrated lunar theory." "What is that?" asked Lucy. "Simply the question, what the moon is made of." "Indeed?" "Certainly. Mr. Denis took the common and erroneous view familiar to scientific men; I, on the contrary, supported the green-cheese view of the question; and this was the real cause of our quarrel. I am sure Mr. Denis and myself are the most excellent friends now," said Hoffland, turning with a smile towards Denis; "and we will never quarrel any more." A pause of some moments followed this ridiculous explanation; and this pause was first broken by Miss Lucy, who burst into the most unladylike laughter, and indeed shook from head to foot in the excess of her mirth. Mowbray looked with an amazed and puzzled air at Hoffland, and Denis did not know what to say or how to look. Lucy, after laughing uninterruptedly for nearly five minutes, suddenly remembered the indecorum of this strange exhibition; so, drying her eyes, and assuming a demure and business-like air, she took a small basket of keys, and apologizing for her departure, went to attend to supper. Before leaving the room, however, she gladdened honest Jack Denis's heart with a sweet smile, and this smile was so perfect a balm to the wounded feelings of the worthy fellow, that his discontent and ill-humor disappeared completely, and he was almost ready to give his hand to his rival, Hoffland. The same arrow had mortally wounded Jacques and Denis. CHAPTER XX. AT ROSELAND, IN THE EVENING.