h, really now! no apologies," said Hoffland laughing; "I am not
aware that you were out of temper--though that is not an unusual thing
with men. And now, having settled the question of the proper manner to
address or speak of Miss Lucy, I will go on and tell you--as you
seemed interested--why I did not feel myself at liberty to accept Mr.
Mowbray's invitation--or Ernest's: I call him Ernest, and he calls me
Charles."

"You seem to be well acquainted with him," said Denis.

"Oh, we are sworn friends!--of four days' standing."

Denis looked at his companion with great curiosity.

"Mowbray--the most reserved of men in friendship!" he muttered.

"Ah," replied Hoffland, whose quick ear caught these words; "but I am
not a common person, Mr. Denis. Remember that."

"Indeed?" said Denis, again betraying some coolness at his companion's
satirical manner: his manner alone was satirical--the words, as we may
perceive, were scarcely so.

"Yes," continued Hoffland, "and I am an exception to all general
rules--just as Crichton was."

"Crichton?"

"Yes; the admirable Crichton."

And having uttered this conceited sentence with a delightful little
toss of the head, Hoffland laughed.

Denis merely inclined his head coldly. He was becoming more and more
averse to this companion every moment.

"But we were speaking of Roseland, and my reasons for not accepting
Mowbray's invitation," pursued Hoffland, smiling; "the reason may
surprise you."

"Possibly, if you will tell me what it is," said Denis.

"Why, it is the simplest thing in the world. I come from the
mountains, you know."

"No, I did not know it before, sir," replied Denis.

"Well, such at least is the fact. Now, in the mountains, you know, the
girls are prettier, and the men handsomer."

"I know nothing of the sort," replied Denis coldly.

"Very well," Hoffland replied; "as I have just said, such is
nevertheless the fact."

"Indeed, sir?"

"Certainly. Now I am a fair specimen of the mountain men."

Denis looked at his companion with an expression of contempt which he
could not repress. Hoffland did not appear to observe it, but went on
in the same quizzing tone--for we can find no other word--which he had
preserved from the commencement of the interview.

"Feeling that Miss Lucy had probably not seen any one like myself," he
said, "I was naturally anxious that her brother should prepare her."

"Mr. Hoffland!"

"Sir?"

"Nothing, sir!"

And Denis ch