Elizabeth listened in silence. All that had passed made a deep impression--from the moment that the solicitor had expressed a wish that Falkner had a zealous friend to cross the Atlantic--till now, that he himself dilated on the good that would result from representations being clearly and fervently made to Osborne, she was revolving an idea that absorbed her whole faculties. This idea was no other than going to America herself. She had no doubt that, seeing Osborne, she could persuade him, and the difficulties of the journey appeared slight to her who had travelled so much. She asked Falkner many questions, and his answers confirmed her more and more in her plan. No objection presented itself to her mind; already she felt sure of success. There was scarcely time, it was true, for the voyage; but she hoped that the trial might be again deferred, if reasonable hopes were held out of Osborne's ultimate arrival. It was painful to leave Falkner without a friend, but the object of her journey was paramount even to this consideration; but it must, it should be undertaken. Still she said nothing of her scheme, and Falkner could not guess at what was passing in her mind. Wrapped in the revery suggested by such a plan, she returned home in the evening, without thinking of the apparition of Neville, which had so filled her mind in the morning. It was not till at her own door that the thought glanced through her mind, and she remembered that she had seen nothing of him--she looked across the open space where he had stood the evening before. It was entirely vacant. She felt disappointed and saddened; and she began to reflect on her total friendlessness--no one to aid her in preparations for her voyage--none to advise--her sole resource was in hirelings. But her independent, firm spirit quickly threw off this weakness, and she began a note to Mr. Colville, asking him to call on her, as she wished to arrange everything definitively before she spoke to Falkner. As she wrote, she heard a rapid, decided step in her quiet street, followed by a hurried yet gentle knock at her door. She started up. "It is he!" the words were on her lips, when Gerard entered; she held out her hand, gladness thrilling through her whole frame, her heart throbbing wildly--her eyes lighted up with joy. "This is indeed kind," she cried. "Oh, Mr. Neville, how happy your visit makes me!" He did not look happy; he had grown paler and thinner, and the melancholy which had sat on his countenance before, banished for a time by her, had returned, with the addition of a look of wildness, that reminded her of the youth of Baden; Elizabeth was shocked to remark these traces of suffering; and her next impulse was to ask, "What has happened? I fear some new misfortune has occurred."