her, as the neutral ground of indifference."

"Unhappy man!" said Hoffland; "you pray to be delivered from love!"

"Devoutly."

"It is our greatest happiness."

"And deepest misery."

"Misanthrope!"

"No, Charles, I neither hate men nor women; I do not permit this
disappointment to sour my heart. But I cannot become an advocate of
the feeling which has caused me such cruel suffering. Let us say no
more. We shall meet at the ball, and then you will be able to judge
whether I am mistaken in the estimate I place upon this young girl's
character. She is beautiful, haughty, suspicious, and unfeeling: it
tears my heart to say it, but it is true. You will never after this
evening doubt my unhappiness, or charge me with error."

"Probably not," said Hoffland, turning away his head; "I will make
your error plain to you--but promise to speak of it no more."

"What do you mean by 'make my error plain to me'?"

"You will see."

"Charles!" said Mowbray suddenly, "you cannot have designed to
approach this lady upon the subject which I have spoken to you of, as
friend to friend? That is not possible!"

"I shall not say one single word to your lady-love."

"Explain then."

"Never--I am a Sphinx, an oracle: until the time comes I am dumb."

"You only strive to raise my spirits," said Mowbray with his sad
smile; "that is very kind in you, but I fear it is even more than you
could do."

"By which I suppose you mean that I could 'raise your spirits' if any
body could."

"I may say yes--for you have a rare cheerfulness. It is almost
contagious."

Hoffland looked sidewise at his companion for a moment with a curious
smile, and said:

"Ernest."

"Well, Charles."

"How would you like to have--but it is too foolish."

"Go on: finish your sentence."

"No, you will laugh."

"Perhaps I shall: I hope so," Mowbray said, sadly smiling.

There was so much sadness in his tones, spite of the smile, that
Hoffland's eyes filled with tears.

"What I was about to say was very ridiculous," the boy said, with a
slight tremor in his voice; "but you know almost every thing I say is
ridiculous."

"No, indeed, Charles; you are a singular mixture of excellent sense
and fanciful humor."

"Well, then, attribute my question to humor."

"Willingly."

"I was about to ask you--as you were kind enough to say that I could
make you laugh if any one could--I was about to ask, how would you
like to have a wife like me?"

And Hoffl