Falkner's reflections were all painful; his heavily-burdened conscience weighed him to the earth. He felt that there was justice in a part of Mr. Raby's representations; that if Elizabeth had been brought up under his care, in a religion which, because it was persecuted, was the more valuable in their eyes; participating in their prejudices, and endeared to them by habit, she would have had claims, which, as she was, unseen, unknown, and totally disjoined from them in opinions and feelings, she could never possess. He was the cause of this, having, in her infancy, chosen to take her to himself, to link his desolate fate to her brighter one; and now he could only repent for her sake; yet, for her sake, he did repent, when, looking forward, he thought of the growing attachment between her and the son of his victim. What could he do? recall her? forbid her again to see Gerard Neville? Unexplained commands are ever unjust, and had any strong feeling sprung up in either of their hearts, they could not be obeyed. Should he tell her all, and throw himself on her mercy? He would thus inflict deep, irreparable pangs, and, besides, place her in a painful situation, where duty would struggle with inclination; and pride and affection both made it detestable to him to create such a combat in her heart, and cause her to feel pangs and make sacrifices for him. What other part was there to take? to remain neuter? let events take their course? If it ended as he foresaw, when a marriage was mentioned, he could reveal her real birth. Married to Gerard Neville, her relations would gladly acknowledge her, and then he could withdraw for ever. He should have much to endure meanwhile; to hear a name perpetually repeated that thrilled to the very marrow of his bones; perhaps to see the husband and son of her he had destroyed: he felt sick at heart at such a thought; he put it aside. It was not to-day, it could not be to-morrow, that he should be called upon to encounter these evils; meanwhile, he would shut his eyes upon them.