Falkner saw with pleasure the natural effects of love and hope add to the cheerfulness of his beloved child, diffuse a soft charm over her person, her motions, and her voice, and impart a playful tenderness to her before rather serious manners. Youth, love, and happiness are so very beautiful in their conjunction. "God grant," he thought, "I do not mar this fair creature's life--may she be happier than Alithea; if man can be worthy of her, Gerard Neville surely is." As he turned his eyes silently from the book that apparently occupied him, and contemplated her pensive countenance, whose expression showed that she was wrapped in, yet enjoying her thoughts, retrospect made him sad. He went over his own life, its clouded morning, the glad beams that broke out to dissipate those clouds, and the final setting amid tempests and wreck. Was all life like this, must all be disappointed hope, baffled desires, lofty imaginations engendering fatal acts, and bringing the proud thus low? would she at his age view life as he did--a weary wilderness--a tangled, endless labyrinth, leading by one rough path or another to a bitter end? He hoped not, her innocence must receive other reward from Heaven. It was on a day as they were thus occupied--Falkner refrained from interrupting Elizabeth's revery, which he felt was sweeter to her than any converse--and appeared absorbed in reading; suddenly she exclaimed, "The wind has changed, dear father; indeed it has changed, it is favourable now. Do you not feel how much colder it is? the wind has got to the north, there is a little east in it; his voyage will not be a long one if this change only lasts!" Falkner answered her by a smile; but it was humiliating to think of the object of that voyage, and her cheerful voice announcing that it was to be prosperous struck, he knew not why, a saddening chord. At this moment he heard the bolts of the chamber-door pushed back, and the key turn in the lock--the turnkey entered, followed by another man, who hesitated as he came forward, and then, as he glanced at the inhabitants of the room, drew back, saying, "There is some mistake; Mr. Falkner is not here." But for his habitual self-command, Falkner had started up, and made an exclamation--so surprised was he to behold the person who entered--for he recognised his visitant on the instant--he himself was far more changed by the course of years; time, sickness, and remorse had used other than Praxitilean art, and had defaced the lines of grace and power which had marked him many years ago, before his hands had dug Alithea's grave. He was indeed surprised to see who entered; but he showed no sign of wonder, only saying with a calm smile, "No, there is no mistake, I am the man you seek." The other now apparently recognised him, and advanced timidly, and in confusion--the turnkey left them, and Falkner then said, "Osborne, you deserve my thanks for this, but I did believe that it would come to this."