On the fine morning to which we have now arrived, the conversation of the friends took exactly this direction. Hoffland for two or three days had obstinately kept away from the college, and "non est inventus" was the substance of the proctor's return when he was sent to drum up the absent student.

"Indeed, Charles," said Mowbray, with his calm sadness, "you should not thus allow your time to be absorbed in indolent lounging. A man has his career in the world to run, and college is the threshold. If you enter the world ignorant and awkward--and the greatest genius is awkward if ignorant--you will find the mere fops of the day pa.s.s you in the course. They may be superficial, shallow, but they have cultivated their natural gifts, while you have not done so. They enter gracefully, and succeed; you will enter awkwardly, and fail."

"A fine Mentor you are!" replied Hoffland; "and I ought to be duly grateful for your excellent advice."

"It is that of a friend."

"I know it."

"A very true friend."

"Yes," Hoffland said, "I am convinced that your friendship for me is very true. Strange you should like me so!"

"I think not: you are by yourself here, and I am naturally attracted always by inexperience. I find great freshness of thought and feeling in you, Charles----"

"Do you?"

"And more still," said Mowbray, smiling sadly; "I think you love me."

"Indeed?" said Hoffland, turning away his face.

"Yes; you gravitated toward me; but I equally to yourself. And now I think you begin to have a sincere affection for me."

"_Begin_, indeed!"

Mowbray smiled.

"I am glad you liked me from the first then," he said. "I am sure I cannot explain my sudden liking for yourself."

"But I can," said Hoffland, laughing; "we were congenial, my dear fellow--chips of the same block--companions of similar tastes. You liked what was graceful and elegant, which, of course you found in me.

I have always experienced a pa.s.sionate longing for truth and n.o.bility; and this, Ernest, I find in you!"

Hoffland's tone had lost all its banter as he uttered these words; and if Mowbray had seen the look which the boy timidly cast upon his pale countenance, he would have started.

But Hoffland regained his lightness almost immediately; his earnestness pa.s.sed away, and he was the same light-hearted boy.

"Look!" he cried, "that oriole is going to die for joy as he swings among the cherry blossoms! How green the gra.s.s is--what a lovely landscape!"

And Hoffland gazed rapturously at the green fields, and blossom-covered trees, and the distant river flowing on in gladness to the sea, with the kindling eye of a true poet.

"And here is the 'Indian Camp!'" he cried; "gra.s.sy, antique, and romantic!"

"Let us sit down," said Mowbray.

And seating himself upon a moss-covered stone, he leaned his head upon his hand and pondered.

"Now, I'll lay a wager you are thinking about me!" cried Hoffland; "perhaps you still revolve in your mind my various delinquencies."

"No," said Mowbray.

"I know I am very bad--very remiss. I ought to have been at college this morning, but I was not able to come."

"Why, Charles?" said Mowbray, raising his head.

"I was busy."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, reading."

"Ah! not studying?"

"No; unless Shakspeare is study."

"It is a very hard study, but not the sort which I would have you apply yourself to. What were you reading?"

"'As You Like It,'" said Hoffland; "and I was really charmed with the fair Rosalind."

"Yes," said Mowbray indifferently; "a wonderful character, such as Shakspeare only could draw."

"And as good as she was wild--as maidenly as she was pure."

Mowbray shook his head.

"That foray she made into the woods _en cavalier_ was a very doubtful thing," he said.

"Why, pray?" Hoffland asked, pouting. "I should like to know what there was wrong in it."

Mowbray smiled, but made no reply.

"Answer me," said Hoffland.

"That is easy. Do you think it wholly proper, perfectly maidenly, for a woman to a.s.sume the garb of our s.e.x?"

"Certainly; why not, sir?"

Mowbray smiled again.

"I fear any argument would only fortify you in your convictions, as our rebel student says," he replied. "True, Rosalind was the victim of circ.u.mstances, but her example is one of an exceedingly doubtful nature, or rather it is not at all doubtful."

"Pray, how?"

"Really, Charles, you make me give a reason for every thing. Well then, I think that it is indelicate in women to leave their proper sphere and descend to the level of men, and this any woman must do in a.s.suming the masculine garb. If I am not mistaken, the common law bears me out, and inflicts a penalty upon such deviations from established usage. None but an inexperienced youth like yourself would uphold Rosalind."

Hoffland colored, and said with bitter abruptness:

"I believe you despise me, sir!"

"Despise you! Why?" said the astonished Mowbray.