Then Hoffland says, in a musical voice like that of a boy before his tone undergoes the disagreeable change of manhood:
"You have not said how strange you thought this sudden friendship I express, Mr. Mowbray, but I am afraid you think me very strange."
"No, indeed," replies Mowbray; "I know not why, but you have already taken a strong hold upon me. Singular! we are almost strangers, but I feel as though I had known you all my life!"
"That can scarcely be, for I am but seventeen or eighteen," says Hoffland smiling.
"A frank, true age. I regret that I have passed it."
"Why?"
"Ah, can you ask, Mr. Hoffland?"
"Please do not call me Mr. Hoffland. We are friends: say Charles; and then I will call you Ernest. I cannot unless you set me the example."
"Ernest? How did you discover my name?"
"Oh!" said Hoffland, somewhat embarrassed, "does not every body know Ernest Mowbray?"