tartled by my name, which I heard called several times in
the corridor. The door at the same instant was burst suddenly open, and
Trevanion appeared.

"Harry, Harry Lorrequer," cried he, as he entered; then suddenly checking
himself, added "a thousand, ten thousand pardons. But--"

"But what," cried I passionately, forgetting all save the situation of
poor Emily at the moment, "what can justify--"

"Nothing certainly can justify such an intrusion," said Trevanion,
finishing my sentence for me, "except the very near danger you run this
moment in being arrested. O'Leary's imprudence has compromised your
safety, and you must leave Paris within an hour."

"Oh, Mr. Trevanion," said Emily, who by this time had regained a more
befitting attitude, "pray speak out; what is it? is Harry--is Mr.
Lorrequer, I mean, in any danger?"

"Nothing of consequence, Miss Bingham, if he only act with prudence, and
be guided by his friends. Lorrequer, you will find me in your apartments
in half an hour--till then, adieu."

While Emily poured forth question after question, as to the nature and
extent of my present difficulty, I could not help thinking of the tact
by which Trevanion escaped, leaving me to make my adieux to Emily as best
I might--for I saw in a glance that I must leave Paris at once.
I, therefore, briefly gave her to understand the affair at the salon
--which I suspected to be the cause of the threatened arrest--and was
about to profess my unaltered and unalterable attachment, when she
suddenly stopped me.

"No, Mr. Lorrequer, no. All is over between us. We must never meet
again--never. We have been both playing a part. Good by--good by: do
not altogether forget me--and once more, Harry good by."

What I might have said, thought, or done, I know not; but the arrival of
Mrs. Bingham's carriage at the door left no time for any thing but
escape. So, once more pressing her hand firmly to my lips, I said--"au
revoir, Emily, au revoir, not good by," and rushing from the room,
regained my own, just as Mrs. Bingham reached the corridor.

CHAPTER XLI.

MR. O'LEARY'S CAPTURE.

Does she really care for me? was my first question to myself as I left
the room. Is this story about pre-engaged affections merely a got up
thing, to try the force of my attachment for her? for, if not, her
conduct is most inexplicable; and great as my experience has been in
such affairs, I avow myself out maneuvered. While I thought ove