ary, much more alive
to the imperative necessity of avoiding detection by his sposa, than of
involving himself with the police, had thrown out most dark and
mysterious hints in the hotel as to the reason of his residence at Paris;
fully impressed with the idea that, to be a good Pole, he need only talk
"revolutionary;" devote to the powers below, all kings, czars, and
kaisers; weep over the wrongs of his nation; wear rather seedy
habiliments, and smoke profusely. The latter were with him easy
conditions, and he so completely acted the former to the life, that he
had been that morning arrested in the Tuilleries gardens, under several
treasonable charges--among others, the conspiracy, with some of his
compatriots to murder the minister of war.

However laughable such an accusation against poor O'Leary, one
circumstance rendered the matter any thing but ludicrous. Although he
must come off free of this grave offence, yet, the salon transaction
would necessarily now become known; I should be immediately involved,
and my departure from Paris prevented.

"So," said Trevanion, as he briefly laid before me the difficulty of my
position, "you may perceive that however strongly your affections may be
engaged in a certain quarter, it is quite as well to think of leaving
Paris without delay. O'Leary's arrest will be followed by yours, depend
upon it; and once under the surveillance of the police, escape is
impossible."

"But, seriously, Trevanion," said I, nettled at the tone of raillery he
spoke in, "you must see that there is nothing whatever in that business.
I was merely taking my farewell of the fair Emily. Her affections have
been long since engaged, and I--"

"Only endeavouring to support her in her attachment to the more favoured
rival. Is it not so?"

"Come, no quizzing. Faith I began to feel very uncomfortable about
parting with her, the moment that I discovered that I must do so."

"So I guessed," said Trevanion, with a dry look, "from the interesting
scene I so abruptly trespassed upon. But you are right; a little bit of
tendresse is never misplaced, so long as the object is young, pretty, and
still more than all, disposed for it."

"Quite out; perfectly mistaken, believe me. Emily not only never cared
for me; but she has gone far enough to tell me so."

"Then, from all I know of such matters," replied he, "you were both in a
very fair way to repair that mistake on her part. But hark! what is
this?"