"I know not that," replied his companion; "he has formed a thousand schemes of chastisement for both offenders, more dread than the field of honour--there is, to be sure, a mean, as well as an indignant spirit in him, that revels rather in the thought of inflicting infamy than death. He utters a thousand mysterious threats--I do not see exactly what he can do--but when he discovers his injurer, as he must some day--and I believe there are letters that afford a clew--he will wreak all that a savage, and yet a sordid desire of vengeance can suggest. Poor Mrs. Neville! after all, she must have lived a sad life with such a fellow!" "And here we part," said Falkner; "I am going another way. You have told me a strange story--it will be curious to mark the end. Farewell!" Brave to rashness as Falkner was, yet there was much in what he had just heard that made him recoil, and almost tremble. What the vengeance was that Mr. Neville could take, he too well knew--and he resolved to defeat it. His plans, before vague, were formed on the instant. His lip curled with a disdainful smile when he recollected what his friend had said of the mystery that hung over the late occurrences--he would steep them all in tenfold obscurity. To grieve for the past was futile, or rather, nothing he could do would prevent or alleviate the piercing regret that tortured him--but that need not influence his conduct. To leave his arch enemy writhing from injury, yet powerless to revenge himself--blindly cursing he knew not who, and removing the object of his curses from all danger of being hurt by them, was an image not devoid of satisfaction. Acting in conformity with these ideas, the next morning saw him on the road to Dover--Elizabeth still his companion, resolved to seek oblivion in foreign countries and far climes--and happy, at the same time, to have her with him, whose infantine caresses already poured balm upon his rankling wounds. CHAPTER V Paris was the next, but transient, resting-place of the travellers. Here Falkner made such arrangements with regard to remittances as he believed would best ensure his scheme of concealment. He laid the map of Europe before him, and traced a course with his pencil somewhat erratic, yet not without a plan. Paris, Hamburgh, Stockholm, St. Petersburgh, Moscow, Odessa, Constantinople, through Hungary to Vienna. How many thousand miles! miles which, while he traversed, he could possess his soul in freedom--fear no scrutiny--be asked no insidious questions. He could look each man in the face, and none trace his crime in his own.