Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
Ma
more than you do,
Thmilackth,'" interrupted the youthful baronet.
"Yes, you do, Cherry," returned Dapper: "I
have heard you a hundred times. But let me tell the story out. Well - Cherry's
mamma exclaims, 'Lor, boy, what have you got there? - 'A
Poluphloithboio
, ma, that my fwiend Dawthon gave
me.' - 'A what, Cherry!' shrieks the old lady.- 'A
Poluphloithboio,
ma,' answers Cherry, bringing the cage close up to his ma.- 'A
Poluphloisboio!
' ejaculates mamma: 'why, you
stupid boy, it is nothing more or less than a hideous old owl!' -and so it was:
and there the monster sate upon the perch, blinking away at a furious rate and
looking as stupid as - as Cherry himself - smite him!"
Isabella had returned to the apartment and resumed her seat
a few moments before this story was finished; and Captain Dapper appeared very
much annoyed and surprised that she did not condescend to laugh at the recital.
"By the by," he observed, after a moment's pause,
"I have something to tell you all - strike me!"
"Oh! yeth - about Wichard Markham," said Sir
Cherry.
The count made a movement of impatience; the countess looked
up from her embroidery; and a deep blush mantled upon the cheek, and a sudden
tremor passed through the frame, of the lovely Isabella.
"Yes - about Richard Markham," continued the
hussar officer. "I and Cherry were riding in the neighbourhood of his
house the other day —"
"And we thaw the two ath tweeth."
"Yes - and something else too;- for we saw one of the
sweetest, prettiest, most interesting young ladies - the signora herself
excepted - walking in the garden —"
"Well, well," said the count impatiently;
"perhaps Mr. Markham is married, and you saw his wife - that it all."
"No," continued Dapper; "for she was close by
the railings that skirt the aide of the road running behind his house; and we
saw an old butler-looking kind of a fellow go up to her, and I heard him call
her '
Miss
.' "
"Mr. Markham and his affairs are not of the slightest
interest to us, Captain Dapper," said the count: "we do not even wish
to hear his name mentioned. Isabella, my love, let us have some music."
But no reply was given to the request of the count, who was
seated in such a way that he could not see his daughter's place at the
work-table.
Isabella had again left the room.
Of what nature were the emotions which agitated the bosom of
that beauteous - that amiable creature?
Wherefore had she first sought her own chamber to conceal
tears of joy?
And why had she now retired once more, to hide the
out-pourings of an intense anguish?
THE MEETING
WHEN Isabella retired to her chamber the second time, she hastily
put on her bonnet and shawl, and then hurried to the garden at the back of the
mansion; for she felt the necessity of fresh air, to cool her burning brow.
She walked slowly up and down for a few minutes, her mind
filled with the most distressing thoughts, when the sounds of voices fell upon
her ears. She listened; and the consequential tone of the hussar-captain,
alternating with the childish lisp of Sir Cherry Bounce, warned her that the
two young coxcombs had also directed their steps towards the garden.
She felt in no humour to listen to their chattering gossip -
wearisome at all times, but intolerable in a moment of mental affliction; still
she could not return to the house without encountering them in her way. A
thought struck her - the gardener had been at work all the morning; and the
back-gate of the enclosure had been left open for his convenience. Perhaps it
was not locked again? Thither did she hurry; and, to her joy, the means of
egress into the fields were open to her.
The delicate foot of that beauteous creature of seventeen
scarcely made an impression upon the grass, nor even crushed the daisy, so
light was her tread! And yet her heart was heavy. Grief sate upon her brow; and
her bosom was agitated with sighs.
She walked onward; and, turning the angle of a grove, was
now beyond the view of any one in her father's garden. She relaxed her speed,
and moved slowly and mournfully along the outskirts of the grove, vainly
endeavouring to conquer the sorrowful ideas that obtruded themselves on her
imagination.
But Woe is an enemy that knows no remorse, gives no quarter,
while it retains poor mortal in its grasp; and when its victim is a young and innocent
girl, whose heart beats with its first, its virgin love, - that direful enemy
augments its pangs in proportion to the tenderness and sensibility of that
heart which it thus ruthlessly torments.
Isabella's reverie was suddenly interrupted by a deep sigh.
She turned her head; and there, on her left hand
- seated upon the trunk of a tree
that had been blown down by the late winds,- with his face buried in his hands,
was a gentleman apparently absorbed in reflections of no pleasurable nature.
He sighed deeply, and his lips murmured some words, the
sound of which, but not the meaning, met her ears.
She was about to retrace her steps, when her own name was
pronounced by the lips of the person seated on the tree, - and in a tone, too,
which she could not mistake.
"Oh! Isabella, Isabella, thou knowest not how I love
thee!"
An exclamation of surprise - almost of alarm - burst from
the lips of the beautiful Italian; and she leant for support against a tree.
Richard Markham - for it was by
his
lips that her name had been pronounced-raised his head, and gave
vent to a cry of the most wild, the most enthusiastic joy.
In a moment he was by her side.
"Isabella!" he exclaimed: "to what good angel
am I indebted for this unexpected joy - this unmeasurable happiness?"
"Oh! Mr. Markham - forgive me if I intruded upon you -
but, accident —"
"Call it not accident, Isabella: it was heaven! -
heaven that prompted me to seek this spot to-day, for the first time since that
fatal night —"
"Ah! that fatal night," repeated the signora, with
a shudder.
Markham dropped the hand which he had taken - which he had
pressed for a moment in his: and he retreated a few paces, his entire manner
changing as if he were suddenly awakened to a sense of his humiliating
condition.
"Signora," he said, in a low and tremulous tone,
"is it possible that you can believe me guilty of the terrible deed which
a monster imputed to me?"
"Oh! no, Mr. Markham," answered the young lady
hastily; "I never for an instant imagined so vile - so absurd am
accusation to be based upon truth."
"Thank you, signora - thank you a thousand times for
that avowal," exclaimed Richard. "Oh! how have I longed for an
opportunity to explain to you all that has hitherto been dark and mysterious
relative to myself :- how have I anticipated a moment like this, when I might
narrate to you the history of all my sorrows - all my wrongs, and part with you
- either bearing away the knowledge of your sympathy to console me, or of your
scorn to crush me down into the very dust!"
"Oh! Mr. Markham, I cannot hear you - I dare not stay
another moment here," said Isabella, excessively agitated. "My
father's anger —"
"I will not detain you, signora," interrupted
Richard, coldly. "Obey the will of your parents; and if - some day - you
should learn the narrative of my sorrows from some accidental source, then -
when you hear how cruelly circumstances combined, and how successfully villains
leagued to plunge me into an abyss of infamy and disgrace, - then, signora,
then reflect upon my prayer to be allowed to justify myself to you to-day - a
prayer which obedience to your parents compels you to reject."
"To me, Mr. Markham, no explanation is necessary,"
said Isabella, timidly, and with her eyes bent towards the ground so that the
long black fringes reposed upon her cheeks.
"Oh! fool that I was to flatter myself that you would
hear me - or to hope that you would listen to aught which I might say to
justify myself!" ejaculated Markham. " Pardon me, signora - pardon my
presumption; but I judged your heart by mine - I measured your sympathy, your
love, by what I feel ;- and I have erred - yes, I have erred; - but you will
pardon me! Oh! how could the
freed convict
dare to hope that the daughter of a noble - a lady of spotless
name, and high birth - should for a moment stoop to him? Ah! I indulged in a
miserable delusion! And yet how sweet was that dream in my solitary hours! for
you must know lady, that I have fed myself with hopes - with wild, insane hopes
- until my soul has been comforted, and for a season I have forgotten my
wrongs, deep - ineffaceable though they be! I thought to myself - 'There is one
being in this cold and cheerless world who will not put faith in all that calumny
proclaims against me,- one being who, having read my heart, will know that I
have suffered for a deed which I never committed, and from which my soul
revolts,- one being who can understand how it is possible for me to have been
unfortunate but never criminal,- one being whose sympathy follows me amidst the
hatred and scorn of others,-one being, in a word, who would not refuse to hear
from my lips a sad history, and who would be prepared to find it filled with
sorrows, but not stained with infamy!' - Such were my thoughts - such was my
hope-such was my delusive dream: O God! that I had never yielded to so bright a
vision! It is now dissipated; and I can well understand, lady - now - that no
explanation is indeed necessary!"
"Mr. Markham," said Isabella, in a voice scarcely
audible through deep emotion,- "Mr. Markham - you misunderstand me - I did
not mean that I would hear no explanation ;- Oh! very far from that —"
"But that it would be now useless!" exclaimed
Markham, his tone softening, for he saw that the lovely idol of his heart was
deeply touched. "You mean, signora, that all explanation would be now too
late; that, whether innocent or guilty of the crime for which I suffered two
years' cruel imprisonment, I am so surrounded by infamy - my name is so
encrusted with odium, and scorn, and disgrace, that to associate with me - to
be seen for a moment near me, is a moral contagion - a plague - a pestilence
—"
"Oh! spare me - spare me these reproaches," cried
Isabella, now weeping bitterly; "for reproaches they are - and most unjust
ones, too!"
"Unjust ones!" exclaimed Richard; "what mean
you, signora?"
"That by me at least they are undeserved, Mr.
Markham," returned the lovely girl.
"How undeserved? how unjust?" said Richard, eagerly
catching at the first straw which presented itself upon the ocean that had
wrecked all his hopes; "did you not say that no explanation was now
necessary?"
"Nor was it ever," answered Isabella, whose voice
was almost entirely subdued by her emotions; "for I never -never believed
the accusations which you seek to explain away!"
"My God! do I hear aright? or am I again the sport of a
delusive vision?" cried Richard; then, advancing towards Isabella, he took
her hand, and said, "Signora, repeat what you ere now averred, that I may
believe my own ears! You believe that I was the victim of villains, and not a
vile - degraded - base criminal?"
"Such has been, and ever would have been my belief -
even without a proof," replied Isabella.
"A proof!" ejaculated Markham: "what mean
you?"
"The confession of one of
the wretches who wronged you - the narrative of the man named Talbot!"
answered the Italian, casting a glance of sympathy - of tender sympathy - upon
her lover.
"And now, O God, I thank thee!" said Markham, his
eyes filling with tears, and his heart a prey to feelings of an indescribable
nature: "O God, I thank thee - how sincerely, devoutly I thank thee, thou
well knowest, for thou canst read the secrets of my soul! And you, Isabella -
dearest Isabella - Oh! can you forgive me, that I dared for a moment to suspect
your generous soul - that I doubted your noble disposition?"
"Forgive you, Richard!" exclaimed the charming
girl, smiling through her tears: "Oh! how can you ask me?"
"And thus, my Isabella, you know all!"
"I know all - how deeply you were wronged, how
fearfully you have suffered."
"Isabella, you are an angel!" cried Markham,
rapturously.
"Nay - do not flatter me," said the signora.
"I have but obeyed the dictates of my own convictions - and —"
"Speak, Isabella-speak!"
"And of my own heart," she added, casting down her
eyes, and blushing. "You left the confession of that Talbot behind you -
on the fatal night —"
"Oh! I remember now; and since then, how often have I
deplored its loss."
"My own maid found it, and gave it to me on the
following morning. Since then, I have read it very - very often! " said
Isabella. " But now - I will return it to you - I will find some
opportunity to forward it you."
"Not for worlds, Isabella!" cried Markham.
"If you still love me - if you still deem me worthy of your regard - keep
it, keep it as a pledge that you believe me to be innocent!"
"Yes, Richard, I will keep it - keep it for you,"
said Isabella. " But do not think that your cause is without advocates at
our abode. My mother believes that you were wronged, and not guilty —"
"Oh, Isabella! then there is yet hope!"
"But my father -my father," continued the signora,
mournfully; "he will not hear our arguments in your favour. It was only an
hour ago that my mother and myself reasoned with him upon the subject; but,
alas! he - who is so good and so just in all other respects,- he is obdurate
and inexorable in this!"
"Time, sweetest girl, will do much; and now my soul is
filled with hope! Oh! how I rejoice that accident should have thrown in your
way the very proof that confirmed the opinion which your goodness suggested in
my favour."
"And not that proof alone," said Isabella;
"for even this very morning, a circumstance confirmed the assertion, that
the two men who were associated with Talbot in making you the blind instrument
of their infamous schemes, are characters of the very worst description.
Captain Dapper and his young friend were plundered by Sir Rupert Harborough sad
Mr. Chichester last evening at a gambling- house."
"Oh! there is no enormity of which those villains are
not capable!" said Markham.
"But while I speak of Captain Dapper," observed
Isabella, suddenly assuming an air of restraint and embarrassment, "I am
reminded of another piece of information which he gave me, and which nearly
concerns yourself."
"Concerns me, Isabella! What can it be?"
"Nay - I know not whether it would be discreet -
indeed, I am confident that —"
"Speak, Isabella - speak unreservedly. Do you wish any
explanation from me? have you heard any further aspersions upon my character?
Speak, Isabella - speak: your own noble confidence merits an equally unreserved
frankness on my part."
"No, Richard - dear Richard," said the lovely
Italian, in a bewitching tone of tenderness; "I was wrong - very wrong to
allude to so idle, so silly an assertion;- and yet - and yet it grieved me -
deeply at the moment."
"My dearest Isabella, I implore you to speak. Let there
be no secrets between you and me."
"No - Richard - I will not insult you —"
"Insult me, Isabella? Impossible!"
"Yes - insult you with a suspicion —"
"Ah! some falsehood of that Captain Dapper,"
exclaimed Markham. "Pray give me an opportunity of explaining away any
impression —"
"Oh! no impression, Richard ;- only a moment's
uneasiness;- and, if you will compel me to tell you - even at the risk of
appearing a jealous, suspicious creature in your eyes —"
"Ah, Isabella, if it be nothing but jealousy,"
said Richard, with a smile of satisfaction, "I am well pleased; for there
would not be jealousy without love; and thus, the former is a proof of the
latter."
"Then, Captain Dapper observed that he was riding near
your abode the other day; and he saw a young and very beautiful lady in your
garden —"
"And he said truly, Isabella," interrupted
Markham: "he, no doubt, saw Miss Monroe, who, with her venerable father,
is residing at my house - through charity, Isabella - through charity! No
tongue can tell the miseries which those poor creatures had endured, until I
forced them to come and take up their abode with me. Mr. Monroe was my guardian
- and by his speculations did I lose my fortune;- but never have I borne him
ill-will - and now —"
"Say no more, Richard," exclaimed Isabella:
"you have a noble heart - and never, never will I mistrust it!"
"And you love me, Isabella? and you will ever love me?
and you will never be another's?"
"Do you require oaths, and vows, and protestations,
Richard?" said the young lady, tenderly: "if so, you shall have them.
But my own feelings - my own sentiments are the best guarantee of my actions
towards you!"
"Oh! I believe you - dearest, dearest Isabella!"
cried the young man, enthusiastically, his handsome countenance irradiated with
a glow of animation which set off his proud style of male beauty to its fullest
extent; " I believe you; and you have rendered me supremely happy, for you
have taught me to have confidence in myself - you have led me to believe that I
am worthy of even such an angel as you! Oh! dearest Isabella, you know not how
sweet it is to be beloved by a pure and virgin heart like yours! If my wrongs -
my injuries - my sufferings - have taught thee to feel one particle of sympathy
the more for me, then am I proud of the sad destinies that have so touched that
tender heart of thine! But say, Isabella - say, when shall we meet again?"
"Richard," answered the' Italian lady, "you.
know how sincerely - how fondly I love you; you know that you - and you alone
shall ever accompany me to the altar. But, never - never, dear Richard, can I
so far neglect my duty to my father, as to consent