wers! and there is the great city of
Williamsburg! We pass from Indian Camps to learned halls--from
barbarism to civilization. Come! let us get into Gloucester
street--that promenade of elegance and fashion! Come on, Ernest!"

And they entered the town.

CHAPTER XXIII.

HOW SIR ASINUS FISHED FOR SWALLOWS, AND WHAT HE CAUGHT.

Gloucester Street was alive with a motley crowd of every description,
from the elegant dame who drove by in her fine four-horse chariot
with its outriders, to the most obscure denizen of the surrounding old
field, come on this particular day to Williamsburg, in view of the
great ball to be held at the _Raleigh_ tavern.

Mowbray and Hoffland gazed philosophically upon the moving crowd, but
threaded their way onward, without much comment. Hoffland was anxious
to reach his lodging, it seemed; the culminating sun had already made
his face rosy with its warm radiance, and he held a white handkerchief
before his eyes to protect them.

"It is growing very warm," he said; "really, Ernest, I think your
present will come into active use before the summer."

"My gloves?"

"No, mine."

"Ah, well, Charles," continued Ernest, "we ought to rejoice in the
warmth, inasmuch as it is better for the poor than cold--the winter.
Let us not complain."

"I do not; but I see precious few poor about now: they all seem to be
rejoicing, without needing any assistance therein from us. Look at
that fine chariot."

"At Madam Finette's door?"

"Yes."

"I think I recognise the driver--Tom, from Mrs. Wimple's," said
Mowbray calmly.

"Mrs. Wimple--who is she?"

"A lady, at whose house I suffered one of my cruellest
disappointments," said Mowbray with a shadowed brow; "let us not
speak of that!"

"Of what?"

"You do not understand?"

"I? Of course not."

"It was there that I was told, by the woman I loved, how despicable I
was," said Mowbray with a cruel tremor of his pale lip.

"Oh--yes--pardon me," Hoffland said; and turning aside his head, he
murmured, "Men--men! how blind you are! yes, high-gravel blind!" and
looking again at Mowbray, Hoffland perceived that his face had become
calm again.

"I promised Lucy to bring home some little articles from this place,"
he said calmly; "go in with me a moment, Charles."

Hoffland drew back.

"No," he said; "I believe--I have--I think I'd rather not."

"I will detain you but a moment."

Hoffland's glance plunged itself into the interior of Madam F