"It is the property of misfortune to be ever new," he replied, "to be always producing fresh and more miserable results. I have no right to press my feelings on you; your burden is sufficient; but I could not refrain any longer from seeing in what way adversity had exerted its pernicious influence over you." His manner was gloomy and agitated; she, resigned, devoted to her duties; commanding herself, day by day, to fulfil her task of patience, and of acquiring cheerfulness for Falkner's sake; she imagined that some fresh disaster must be the occasion of these marks of emotion. She did not know that fruitless struggles to alleviate the evils of her situation, vain broodings over its horrors, and bitter regret at losing her, had robbed him of sleep, of appetite, of all repose. "I despise myself for my weakness," he said, "when I see your fortitude. You are more than woman, more than human being ever was, and you must feel the utmost contempt for one whom fortune bends and breaks as it does me. You are well, however, and half my dreams of misery have been false and vain. God guards and preserves you: I ought to have placed more faith in him." "But tell me, dear Mr. Neville, tell me, what has happened?" "Nothing!" he replied; "and does not that imply the worst? I cannot make up my mind to endure the visitation of ill fallen upon us; it drives me from place to place like an unlaid ghost. I am very selfish to speak in this manner. Yet it is your sufferings that fill my mind to bursting; were all the evil poured on my own head, while you were spared, welcome, most welcome would be the bitterest infliction! but you, Elizabeth, you are my cruel father's victim, and the future will be more hideous than the hideous present!" Elizabeth was shocked and surprised; what could he mean? "The future," she replied, "will bring my dear father's liberation; how then can that be so bad?" He looked earnestly and inquiringly on her. "Yes," she continued, "my sorrows, heavy as they are, have not that additional pang; I have no doubt of the ultimate justice that will be rendered my father. We have much to endure in the interim, much that undermines the fortitude and visits the heart with sickening throes; there is no help but patience; let us have patience, and this adversity will pass away; the prison and the trial will be over, and freedom and security again be ours." "I see how it is," replied Neville; "we each live in a world of our own, and it is wicked in me to give you a glimpse of the scene as it is presented to me." "Yet speak; explain!" said Elizabeth; "you have frightened me so much that any explanation must be better than the thoughts which your words, your manner, suggest."