ly at college; but----"

"Was it my fault?" replied the boy, in a reproachful tone.

"I don't know; your relation is so general, you descend so little to
particulars, that I have not been able to form an opinion of the
amount of blame which attaches to each."

"Blame!" said Hoffland. "Oh, Ernest! you are not a true friend."

"Why, Charles?"

"You do not espouse my part."

Mowbray uttered a sigh of dissatisfaction.

"Do you know," he said, "that my place is rather yonder, as the friend
and adviser of Denis?"

"Well, sir," said Hoffland, in a hurt tone, "as you please."

Mowbray said calmly:

"No, I will not embrace your advice; I will not leave you, a mere
youth, alone, to go and range myself on the side of Denis, though we
have been intimate friends for years. He has numbers of acquaintances
and friends; you could count yours upon the fingers of one hand."

"On the little finger of one hand, say," Hoffland replied, regaining
his good humor.

"Well," Mowbray said calmly, "then there is all the more reason for my
espousing your cause--since you hint that I am the little finger."

"No, I will promote you," Hoffland answered, smiling; "you shall have
this finger, one rank above the little finger, you see."

And he held up his left hand, touching the third finger.

Then the boy turned away and laughed as merrily and carelessly as
before the disagreeable events of the evening.

Mowbray looked at him with a faint smile.

"Youth, youth!" he murmured; "youth, so full of joy and lightness--so
careless and gay-hearted! Here is a man--or a child--who in
twenty-four hours may be lying cold in death yonder, and he smiles and
even laughs. Hoffland," he added, "let us cease our discussions in
relation to the origin of this unhappy affair, and endeavor to decide
upon the course to be pursued. With myself the matter stands thus: I
have known Denis for years; he is one of my best friends; no one loves
me more, I think----"

"Except one," said Hoffland, laughing.

"My dear Charles," said Mowbray seriously, "let us speak gravely.
This affair is serious, since it involves two lives--especially
serious to me, since it involves the life of a friend of many years'
standing, and no less the life of one I have promised to assist,
advise, and guide--yourself."

"Oh," said Hoffland, with a hurt expression, "you call Mr. Denis your
friend, while I--I am only 'one you have promised to advise.' Ernest,
that is cruel; you have