"You are convinced it was ironical?"
"Convinced? Have I eyes—have I ears? Truly, if I had failed to be convinced, I should have verified the scriptural saying of those who have eyes and see not—who have ears and do not hear."
"Are the eyes always true?" said Hoffland, smiling.
"No: you have not succeeded, nevertheless, in showing me that I saw wrong."
"Are the ears invariably just?"
"For Heaven's sake, cease worrying me with general propositions!" said Mowbray.
Then, seeing that his companion was hurt by his irritated tone, he added:
"Forgive me, Charles! I lose my equanimity upon this subject; let us dismiss it."
"Very well," said Hoffland, smiling mischievously; "but remember what I now say, Ernest, and remember well. The eyes are deceptive—the ears worse than deceptive. You truly have eyes and see not, ears and hear not! I think it highly probable that your lady-love, who is an excellent-hearted girl, I am convinced, intended merely to apply a last test; and if you have bounded like an impulsive horse under the spur, and tossed from her, the blame does not rest with her. And remember this too, Ernest," Hoffland went on sadly; for one of the strange peculiarities of this young man was his habit of abrupt transition from merriment to sadness, from smiles to sighs; "remember, Ernest, that your determination to see her no more has probably inflicted on this young girl's heart a cruel pang: you cannot know that she is not now shedding bitter tears at the result of her trial of your feelings! Oh! remember that it is not the poor and afflicted only who weep—it is the rich and joyous also; and the hottest tears are often shed by the eyes which seem made to dispense smiles alone!"
Mowbray listened to the earnest voice in silence. A long pause followed, neither looking at the other; then Mowbray said: