I suppose the Chevalier was not in the least unquiet about her, because she was promised in marriage to the Comte de Florac, also of the emigration--a distinguished officer like the Chevalier, than whom he was a year older--and, at the time of which we speak, engaged in London in giving private lessons on the fiddle.

Sometimes on a Sunday he would walk to Blackheath with that instrument in his hand, and pay his court to his young fiancee, and talk over happier days with his old companion-in-arms.

Tom Newcome took no French lessons on a Sunday.

He passed that day at Clapham generally, where, strange to say, he never said a word about Mademoiselle de Blois.
What happens when two young folks of eighteen, handsome and ardent, generous and impetuous, alone in the world, or without strong affections to bind them elsewhere,--what happens when they meet daily over French dictionaries, embroidery frames, or indeed upon any business whatever?
No doubt Mademoiselle Leonore was a young lady perfectly bien elevee, and ready, as every well-elevated young Frenchwoman should be, to accept a husband of her parents' choosing; but while the elderly M.de Florac was fiddling in London, there was that handsome young Tom Newcome ever present at Blackheath.

To make a long matter short, Tom declared his passion, and was for marrying Leonore off hand, if she would but come with him to the little Catholic chapel at Woolwich.