some better cause--we surely can have little
difficulty in finding one."

Mark nodded assentingly, and Travers resumed--

"There is something still more pressing than this. My father will be
able to defer the issue of the warrant against you for three days, when
the Privy Council will again be summoned together. Until that time you
are safe. Make good use of it, therefore. Leave the capital--reach some
place of security; and, after some time, when the excitement of the
affair has passed away----"

"By a due expression of sorrow and penitence, I might be fortunate
enough to obtain the King's pardon. You were about to say so much. Is't
not so?"

"Not exactly," said Frederick, smiling; "but now that the Government are
in possession of the secret details of this plot, and thoroughly aware
of the men engaged in it, and what their objects are, to persist in
it, would be hopeless folly. Believe me, the chances were never in your
favour, and at present you have not a single one left. For your sake,
Mr. O'Donoghue, this is most fortunate. The courage that would seem
madness in a hopeless cause, will win you fame and honour where the
prospects are fairer. There is a new world beyond the seas, where men of
hardy minds and enterprising spirits achieve rank and fortune--in India,
where war has all the features of chivalry, where personal daring and
heroism are surer roads to distinction than influence and patronage; no
prize will be too high for your aspirations."

Mark was silent, and Travers conjecturing that his words were sinking
into his heart with a persuasive power, went on to re-picture the
adventurous life which should open to him, if he would consent to leave
his country, and seek fortune beyond the seas. As he continued to speak,
they rode along side by side, and at last came to that part of the
shore, where a road branched off. Here Mark suddenly drew up, and said--

"I must say good-bye here, Mr. Travers. My path will lie this way for
the present. Do not suspect me of want of feeling because I have not
thanked you for the part you have taken; but in truth you have averted
the evil from one whose life has nothing worth living for. You have
saved me from a danger, but I am without a hope. Betrayed and cheated
by those I trusted, I have little care for the future, because I have no
confidence in any thing. Nay, nay--don't speak of that again. I will not
go to India,--I will not accept of favours from a country that