Elizabeth read as if in a dream--the moment, then, had come, the fatal moment which she had often contemplated with terror, and prayed Heaven to avert--she grew pale and trembling; but again in a moment she recalled her presence of mind, and summoned all the resolution she had endeavoured to store up to assist her at this extremity. She went herself to the chief English authority in the island, and obtained an order for a vessel to bring him off--instantly she embarked. She neither wept nor spoke; but sitting on the deck, tearless and pale, she prayed for speed, and that she might not find him dead. A few hours brought her to the desired port. Here a thousand difficulties awaited her--but she was not to be intimidated by all the threatened dangers--and only besought the people about her to admit of no excuses for delay. She was accompanied by an English surgeon and a few attendants. She longed to outspeed them all, and yet she commanded herself to direct everything that was done; nor did her heart quail when a few shot, and the cry of the men about her, spoke of the neighbourhood of the enemy. It proved a false alarm--the shots came from a straggling party of Greeks--salutations were exchanged, and still she pushed on--her only thought was--"Let me but find him alive--and then surely he will live!" As she passed along, the sallow countenances and wasted figures of the peasants spoke of the frightful ravages of the epidemic by which Falkner was attacked--and the squalidness of the cabins and the filth of the villages were sights to make her heart ache; at length they drew near one which the guide told her was that named by Vasili. On inquiring, they were directed down a sort of lane to a wretched dilapidated dwelling--in the courtyard of which were a party of armed Greeks, gathered together in a sort of ominous silence. This was the abode of Falkner; she alighted--and in a few minutes Vasili presented himself--his face painted with every mark of apprehension and sorrow--he led her on. The house was desolate beyond expression--there was no furniture, no glass in the windows--no token of human habitation beyond the weather-stained walls. She entered the room where her father lay--some mattresses placed on the divan were all his bed; and there was nothing else in the room except a brazier to heat his food. Elizabeth drew near--and gazed in awe and grief. Already he was so changed that she could scarcely know him--his eyes sunk, his cheeks fallen, his brow streaked with pallid hues; a ghastly shadow lay upon his face, the apparent forerunner of death. He had scarcely strength sufficient to raise his hand, and his voice was hollow--yet he smiled when he saw her--and that smile, the last refuge of the soul that informs our clay, and even sometimes survives it, was all his own; it struck her to the heart--and her eyes were dimmed with tears while Vasili cast a wistful glance on her--as much as to say, "I have lost hope!"