"No." "Make the attempt." "I have made it." "Why not go and see her again then? You will lose nothing." "Go and see her? What! after being repelled with so much insult and coldness!--after being charged with base and mercenary motives!--after having my heart struck by a cruel and unfeeling accusation--my pride humbled by a misconception as humiliating as it was unjust! Never, Charles! My heart may break--I may feel through life the bitterness of the fate which separates us for ever--I may groan and rebel and struggle with my heart--but never again will I address one syllable to that proud girl, who has trampled on me, as she would upon a worm, and told me how degraded a being I was in her eyes--no, never!" And pale, his forehead bathed with perspiration, his frame agitated, his eyes full of fire and regret, Mowbray turned away his head and rose. Hoffland was silent, and yet the deep color in his cheeks betrayed the impression which his companion's passionate words had made upon him. In a few moments Mowbray had regained his calmness. "Pardon me, Charles, for annoying you with these things," he said, with a last tremor in his voice; "but your question prompted me to speak. Let us not return to this subject; it afflicts me to speak of it, and there is no good reason why I should revive my sufferings. Let us go back, and endeavor in the pleasant sunshine to find some balm for all our grief. I do not despair of conquering my passion, for all things are possible to human energy--this far at least. Come, let us return." Calmly buttoning his coat, Mowbray took Charles's arm, and they bent their way back to town. As for Hoffland, he seemed overcome by the vehemence of his companion, and for some time was completely silent. He seemed to be thinking. As they approached the town, however, his spirits seemed to regain their customary cheerfulness, and he smiled. "Well, well, Ernest," he said, "perhaps your grief may be cured in some other way than by strangulation. Let us not speak further of it, but admire the beautiful day. Is it not sweet?" "Very," said Mowbray calmly. "It is getting warm." "Yes, Charles; summer is not far distant." "Summer! I always liked the summer; but we have not then those beautiful blossoms--look how they cluster on the boughs, and what a sweet perfume!" "Very sweet." "Then another drawback of summer is its dust. I hate dust; and it is already beginning to invade my hands." "Wear gloves then, Charles," said Mowbray, smiling at the boyish _naivete_ of his companion's tone. "I'd like to know how I can, without the money to buy them," said Hoffland; "you are very unreasonable, Mr. Mowbray!" Mowbray smiled. "Have you none?" he said. "Not a penny--at the moment. My supplies have not reached my new address." And Hoffland laughed.