"Much-dreaded day," repeated Markham, in unfeigned astonishment. "I should have thought, sir," he added coldly, "that _you_, who professed yourself so convinced of my innocence, would have received me with a smile of welcome!" "My dear--dear boy," gasped the old man, "God knows I am rejoiced to hail your freedom; and that same Almighty power can also attest to my sincere conviction of your innocence. Believe me, I would go through fire and water to serve you,--I would lay down my life, miserable and valueless as it is, to benefit you;--but, oh! I cannot--cannot support your presence!" And the old gentleman seemed absolutely convulsed with agony as he spoke. "I presume," said Richard, leaning over him, so as to be enabled to whisper in his ear, although there was none else at hand to listen,--"I presume that you scorn the man who has been convicted of felony? It is natural, sir--it is natural; but such a demonstration of aversion is not the less calculated to wound one who never injured you." "No--no, Richard; you never injured me; and that makes me feel the more acutely now. But--hear me. I take God to witness that I love you as my own son, and that I am above such unnatural conduct as that which you would impute to me." "My God!" cried Markham, impatiently, "what does all this mean? Are you ill? Has anything unpleasant occurred? If so, we will postpone all discussion upon my affairs until a period more agreeable to yourself." As Markham uttered these words, he gently disengaged the old man's hands from his countenance, and pressed them in his own. He was then for the first time struck by the altered and care-worn features of his guardian; and, without thinking of the effect his words might produce, he exclaimed, "My dear sir, you have evidently been very--very ill!" "Ill!" cried the old man, bitterly. "When the mind suffers, the body is sympathetically affected; and this has been my case! If you have suffered much, Richard, during the last two years--so have I; and we have both only the same consolation--our innocence!" "You speak in enigmas," ejaculated Markham. "What can you have to do with innocence or guilt--you who never wronged a human being?" So strange became the expression of the old man's countenance, as Richard uttered these words, that the young man was perfectly astonished, and almost horrified; and undefined alarms floated through his brain. He was in a painful state of suspense; and yet he was afraid to ask a question. "Richard!" suddenly exclaimed the old man, now looking our hero fixedly and fearlessly in the face, "I have a terrible communication to make to you." "A terrible communication!" repeated Markham; "is it in respect to my brother? If so, do not keep me in suspense--let me know the worst at once--I can bear anything but suspense!" "I have never heard _from_ nor _of_ your brother," answered Mr. Monroe; "and cannot say whether he be dead or living."