The woods were despoiled of their leaves; but still the air was warm and pleasant; and it cheered Elizabeth, as favourable to her hopes: the sun shown at intervals, and the misty mornings were replaced by cheerful days. Elizabeth rode out each morning, and this one day, the sixteenth of December, she found a new pleasure in her solitary exercise. The weather was calm and cheerful; a brisk canter gave speed to the current of her blood; and her thoughts, though busy, had a charm in them that she was half angry with herself for feeling, but which glowed all warm and bright, despite every effort. On the preceding evening she had observed on her return home at nine o'clock from the prison, the figure of a man, which passed her hastily, and then stood aloof, as if guarding and watching her at a distance. Once, as he stood under an archway, a flickering lamp threw his shadow across her path. It was a bright moonlight night, and as he stood in the midst of an open space, near which her house was situated, she recognised, muffled as he was, the form of Gerard Neville. No wonder, then, that her heart was lightened of its burden; he had not forgotten her--he could no longer command himself to absence; if he might not converse with her, at least he might look upon her as she passed. On the same morning she entered her father's prison-room--she found two visiters already there, Colville and his agent, Hillary. The faces of both were long and serious. Elizabeth turned anxiously to Falkner, who looked stern and disdainful. He smiled when he saw her, and said, "You must not be shocked, my love, at the news which these gentlemen bring. I cannot tell how far it influences my fate; but it is impossible to believe that it is irrevocably sealed by it. But who can express the scorn that a man must feel, to know that so abject a poltron wears the human form. Osborne refuses to come." Such an announcement naturally filled her with dismay. At the request of Falkner, Hillary began again to relate the circumstances of his visit to America. He recounted, that finding that Osborne was in Washington, he lost no time in securing an interview. He delivered his letters to him, and said that he came from Mr. Falkner, on an affair of life and death. At the name, Osborne turned pale; he seemed afraid of opening the letters, and muttered something about there being a mistake. At length he broke the seals. Fear, in its most abject guise, blanched his cheek as he read, and his hand trembled so that he could scarcely hold the paper. Hillary, perceiving at last that he had finished reading, and was hesitating what to say, began himself to enter on the subject; when, faltering and stammering, Osborne threw the letter down, saying, "I said there was a mistake--I know nothing--all this affair is new to me--I never had concern with Mr. Falkner--I do not know who Mr. Falkner is."