He would have told them it was not his own.
He was very quiet, and spoke little, even to his brother, of what was passing in his mind, and sometimes his thoughts were so quietly happy that he did not like to be spoken to.

To Ferrers, Louis was as gentle and courteous as to the rest of his companions, and, indeed, he had now little other feeling towards him than that of sorrow and pity.
There had been an unusual noise in the study one evening, while Louis was absent, and when he entered it, he found the confusion attendant on a grand uproar.

Very little was doing, and tokens of the late skirmish lay about the floor in torn and scattered books, and overthrown forms.
Among others, Ferrers was hunting for a missing book, but to discover it in such a chaos was a difficult task, especially as no one would now allow the candles to be used in the search.
With many expressions, so unfitted for refined ears that I do not choose to present them to my reader, Ferrers continued his search, now and then attempting to snatch a candle from the table, in which he was regularly foiled by those sitting there.
"Well, at least have the civility to move and let me see if it is under the table," he said at length.
"You have hindered us long enough," said Salisbury; "Smith, Jones, and I have done nothing to-night.

If you will have rows, you must e'en take the consequences." "Can't you get under the form ?" asked Smith, derisively.
Ferrers was going to make some angry, reply, when Louis dived between the table and the form, with some trouble, and, at the expense of receiving a few unceremonious kicks, recovered the book and gave it to Ferrers, who hardly thanked him, but leaning his head on his hand, seemed almost incapable of doing any thing.

Presently he looked up, and asked in a tone of mingled anger and weariness, what had become of the inkstand he had brought.
"Loosing's seeking, Finding's keeping," said Salisbury.