It was the custom of Falkner to ride every morning with his daughter soon after sunrise; and on the morrow, Elizabeth had just equipped herself, her thoughts full of the handsome boy--whose humanity to his horse, combined with fortitude in enduring great personal pain, rendered far more interesting than ever. She felt sure that, having once commenced, their acquaintance would go on, and that his savage shyness would be conquered by her father's kindness. To alleviate the sorrows of his lot--to win his confidence by affection, and to render him happy, was a project that was occupying her delightfully--when the tramp of a horse attracted her attention--and, looking from the window, she saw Falkner ride off at a quick pace. A few minutes afterward a note was brought to her from him. It said-- "DEAR ELIZABETH, "Some intelligence which I received yesterday obliges me unexpectedly to leave Baden. You will find me at Mayence. Request Miss Jervis to have everything packed up as speedily as possible; and to send for the landlord, and give up the possession of our house. The rent is paid. Come in the carriage. I shall expect you this evening. "Yours, dearest, "J. FALKNER." Nothing could be more disappointing than this note. Her first fairy dream beyond the limits of her home, to be thus brushed away at once. No word of young Neville--no hope held out of return! For a moment an emotion ruffled her mind, very like ill-humour. She read the note again--it seemed yet more unsatisfactory--but, in turning the page, she found a postscript. "Pardon me," it said, "for not seeing you last night; I was not well--nor am I now." These few words instantly gave a new direction to her thoughts--her father not well, and she absent, was very painful--then she recurred to the beginning of the note. "Intelligence received yesterday"--some evil news, surely--since the result was to make him ill--at such a word the recollection of his sufferings rushed upon her, and she thought no more of the unhappy boy, but, hurrying to Miss Jervis, entreated her to use the utmost expedition that they might depart speedily. Once she visited Neville's horse; it was doing well, and she ordered it to be led carefully and slowly to Sir Boyvill's stables. So great was her impatience, that by noon they were in the carriage--and in a few hours they joined Falkner at Mayence. Elizabeth gazed anxiously on him. He was an altered man--there was something wild and haggard in his looks, that bespoke a sleepless night, and a struggle of painful emotion by which the very elements of his being were convulsed:--"You are ill, dear father," cried Elizabeth; "you have heard some news that afflicts you very much." "I have," he replied; "but do not regard me: I shall recover the shock soon, and then all will be as it was before. Do not ask questions--but we must return to England immediately."