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!