As they conversed, the solicitor entered with good tidings. The trial was put off till the ensuing assizes in March, to give time for the arrival of Osborne. The hard dealing of destiny and man relented a little, and despair receded from their hearts, leaving space to breathe, to pray, to hope. No time was to be lost in sending for Osborne. Would he come? It could not be doubted. A free pardon was to be extended to him; and he would save a fellow-creature, and his former benefactor, without any risk of injury to himself. The day closed, therefore, more cheeringly than it had begun. Falkner conquered himself, even to a show of cheerfulness; and recalled the colour to his tremulous companion's cheeks, and half a smile to her lips, by his encouragement. He turned her thoughts from the immediate subject, narrating the events of his first acquaintance with Osborne, and describing the man; a poltron, but kindly hearted--fearful of his own skin to a contemptible extent, but looking up with awe to his superiors, and easily led by one richer and of higher station to any line of conduct; an inborn slave, but with many of a slave's good qualities. Falkner did not doubt that he would put himself eagerly forward on the present occasion; and whatever his evidence were good for, it would readily be produced. There was no reason, then, for despair. While the shock they had undergone took the sting from the present--fearing an immediate and horrible catastrophe--the wretchedness of their actual state was forgotten--it acquired comfort and security by the contrast--each tried to cheer the other, and they separated for the night with apparent composure. Yet that night Elizabeth's pillow, despite her earnest endeavours to place reliance on Providence, was watered by the bitterest tears that ever such young eyes shed; and Falkner told each hour of the livelong night, as his memory retraced past scenes, and his spirit writhed and bled to feel that, in the wantonness and rebellion of youth, he had been the author of so wide-spreading, so dark a web of misery. From this time their days were spent in that sort of monotony which has a peculiar charm to the children of adversity. The recurrence of one day after the other, none being marked by disaster, or indeed any event, imparted a satisfaction, gloomy indeed, and sad, but grateful to the heart wearied by many blows, and by the excitement of mortal hopes and fears. The mind adapted itself to the new state of things, and enjoyments sprung up in the very home of desolation--circumstances that, in happier days, were but the regular routine of life, grew into blessings from Heaven; and the thought, "Come what will, this hour is safe," made precious the mere passage of time--months were placed between them and the dreaded crisis--and so are we made, that when once this is an established, acknowledged fact, we can play on the eve of danger almost like the unconscious animal destined to bleed.