"Ernest, you astonish me!" cried Hoffland, laughing; "address a young lady whom I have not the pleasure of knowing?" "It would be to do her a simple service, and nothing could be more proper." "You are a pretty guide for youth, are you not? No, sir! I never intrude!" "Suppose this young lady were asleep in a house which was burning--would you not intrude to inform her of that fact?" "Never, sir! Enter a lady's bower? Is it possible you counsel such a proceeding?" Mowbray smiled sadly. "You have excellent spirits, Charles," he said; "I almost envy you." "No, indeed, I have not," said Hoffland, with one of his strange transitions from gaiety to thoughtfulness; "I wear more than one mask, Ernest." "Are you ever sad?" "Yes, indeed," said Hoffland, with a little sigh. "Well, well, I fancy 'tis not frequently. If you feel so to-day, the ball to-night will restore your spirits; and there you may restore your handkerchief with perfect propriety." "How?" "Get an introduction." Hoffland's lip crimped; but nodding his head-- "Yes," said he, "I think I shall be introduced, for I wish very much to be present at that Arcadian festival." "You heard, then?" Hoffland colored. "N--o," he said; "but I believe a number of invitations are out--for Denis, and others;--a good fellow, Denis." "Excellent; and I suppose, therefore, you will be at the Raleigh this evening?" "Yes, about twelve--I have my studies to attend to," said Hoffland, laughing; "you have no idea how much the character of _Rosalind_ has interested me lately. I think it never seized so strongly upon my attention. If ever we have any private acting, I shall certainly appear in that character!" Mowbray smiled again. "Your person would suit the forest page very well," he said; "for you are slender, and slight in figure. But how would you compass the scenes where Rosalind appears in her proper character--in female dress?" "Oh!" laughed Hoffland, with some quickness, "I think I could easily act that part." "I doubt it." "You don't know my powers, Ernest." "Well, perhaps not; but let us dismiss the ball, and Rosalind, and all. How motley a crowd! I almost agree with Jacques, that 'motley's the only wear.'" "Jacques! that reminds me of the melancholy fellow we saw just now, sighing and languishing with that little Belle-bouche----" "Why, you know her familiar name--how, Charles?" Hoffland laughed. "Oh" he said, "did I not leave my MS. love songs to Jacques; and can you imagine that I was ignorant of--but we are throwing away words. Everybody's in love, I believe--Jacques is not singular. Look at this little pair of lovers--school-girl and school-boy, devoted to each other, and consuming with the tender passion. Poor unfortunate creatures!" With which words Hoffland laughed, and pointed to a boy and girl who were passing along some steps in advance of them.