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Rh up and down the terrace—in his own mind the very personification of Shakspeare's comet, to walk also, and meet him. Of course, his political meditations were put to flight by her appearance. He requested permission to join her, and was soon eloquent in the description of the last fête that he had witnessed at Versailles. Mr. Trevanion was one of those talkers, who are too much engrossed with their own subject matter to have much attention to bestow elsewhere; with them silence is attention. Ethel's wandering eye, and lip, tremulous with its effort to speak, would never have attracted his notice. To his utter astonishment, she interrupted a parenthesis, as brilliant as the rocket which it depicted, by saying,— "Mr. Trevanion, I do not know what you will think of my boldness, but I must speak to you." "Speak," said the gentleman, with a