"Oh!" cried Isabella, colouring deeply; "let Mr. Markham be guilty in other respects, I would pledge my existence he never, never could have been a participator in that!"
"You speak warmly, signora," said the count, whose brow contracted. "You forget that I myself overheard him talking with some one over the wall of the garden only a few hours before the entrance of the burglars——"
"We have many cases upon record," interrupted Isabella enthusiastically, "in which men have been unjustly convicted on an almost miraculous combination of adverse circumstances. Suppose that Mr. Markham was, in the first instance, made the victim of rogues and villains, and sacrificed by them to screen their own infamy—suppose he underwent his punishment in Newgate, being innocent—will you sympathise with and commiserate him? or will you scorn and repulse him? Oh! my dear father, no kindness would be too great towards a being who has suffered through the fallibility of human laws! Suppose that one of the villains who plunged him—innocent—into all that misery, repented of the evil, and signed a confession of his own enormity and of Mr. Markham's guiltlessness;—then would you remain thus prejudiced? Oh! no—my dear father, you never would! your nature is too noble!"
"My dearest Isabella, let us drop this conversation. In the first place, it is not likely that your romantic idea of one of the villains whom you bring upon your fanciful stage, signing such a confession——"
"Oh! my dear father," exclaimed Isabella, a ray of joy flashing from her large black eyes; "if such were the case——"
"Well—if such were the case," added the count impatiently, "the entire mystery of the burglary remains to be cleared up to my satisfaction; and therefore, with your permission, we will leave this subject—now, and for ever!"
Isabella's head dropped upon her bosom; and her countenance wore an expression of the most profound disappointment and grief.
Scarcely had the conversation thus received a rude check and the count resumed the perusal of his paper, when Sir Cherry Bounce and Captain Smilax Dapper were announced.
"Here we are—the two inseparables, strike me!" ejaculated the gallant hussar. "How is the signora this morning? somewhat melancholy—blow me!"
"It seems that you have nothing to make you melancholy, Captain Dapper," said the count, who did not experience the greatest possible amount of delight at the arrival of the two young gentlemen, although he was far too well bred to show his annoyance.
"Beg pardon, count—on the contrary, smite me!" returned Captain Dapper: "I have a great deal to be melancholy for. I lost six hundred pounds last night at cards—blow me for a fool that I was! I must confess, however, that I wasn't half awake."
"Yeth—and Thmilackth inthithted upon my thitting down and playing too; and I lotht thwenty poundth."
"And got scolded by your mamma into the bargain, for sitting up too late," said the captain.
"Nonthenth, Thmilackth!" exclaimed Sir Cherry; "I dare thay my mother allowth me ath gweat a lithenth ath your'th."
"Well we won't quarrel, Cherry," said the officer. "But what do you think, count? I and Cherry dined together at the Piazza, Covent-Garden, where we got the most unexceptionable turtle and the most approved venison. The iced punch was superlative—the charges, of course, comparative. Well, in the evening, while I and Cherry were sipping our claret—and Cherry was admitting confidentially to me that he really hates claret, and only drinks it because it is fashionable——"
"Oh! naughty Thmilackth!"
"Hold your tongue, Cherry. Well—a couple of gentlemen came into the coffee-room. There was no one else there besides me and Cherry and the new comers. So they began whispering together for a few moments; and at length one of them rushes forward, catches Cherry in his arms, and cries out, 'Oh! my dear Smith—my friend Smith—how glad I am to meet with you again!' Cherry coloured up to the eyes——"
"Oh! what an infamouth falthhood!"
"You did, and you were so frightened you could not speak a word. I was obliged to tell the loving gentleman that your name was not Smith; and then he begged pardon, and said he never saw in his life such a resemblance to an old school-fellow of his as Cherry was. Well, we laughed over the mistake: the two gentlemen rang for claret; and we all sate down to the same table together. We drank several bottles of wine, and then adjourned to another place to sink it all with brandy-and-water. Cherry was quite top-heavy; but I was as sober as a judge—"
"Why did you woll in the mud, then?"
"Why? because I tripped against a stone. Well, then we were foolish enough to go to a gambling-house with these gentlemen; and there I lost, and Cherry lost."
"And the two gentlemen won, I suppose?" said the count, drily.
"Oh! of course," answered Captain Dapper.
"How foolish of two mere boys like you to think of going to a gambling-house," exclaimed the count. "Do you not see that the two gentlemen who accosted you in so strange a manner in the coffee-room of an hotel, perceived you to be a couple of greenhorns?"
"They might have thought so of Cherry," cried the captain, colouring deeply, and twirling his moustachios; "but they couldn't have formed such an opinion of me—an officer in her majesty's service—strike, smite, and blow me!"
"I'm thure I don't look tho veway gween ath you think," said Sir Cherry Bounce, now falling into a sulky fit with his friend the officer.
"Oh! I know perfectly well that they were regular gentlemen," continued the captain; "for they gave us their cards; and one was Sir Rupert Harborough. The other was Mr. Chichester."
"Sir Rupert Harborough and Mr. Chichester!" exclaimed Isabella, on whom the mention of these names produced a strange effect.
"Yes," answered Captain Dapper; "and so you see that they were proper gentlemen, and it was all luck. But strike such luck as mine!"
Isabella's countenance was suddenly irradiated with a gleam of the purest and most heart-felt joy;—the tears started to her eyes—but they were tears of happiness;—and, fearful that her emotions would be observed, she hurried from the room.
"Ah! but you didn't hear Cherry's adventure about the bird, did you, count?" demanded Dapper, still continuing the conversation.
The count shook his head.
"Why, this was it," said the gallant captain of hussars. "A waggish friend of mine, whose name is Dawson, dined with me and Cherry the other day; and the conversation turned upon birds. Cherry said he was very fond of choice birds; and Dawson immediately observed, 'If you like to accept of it, I will make you a present of a very beautiful and curious bird. I bought it the other day at Snodkins's, the bird-fancier's in Castle Street; and you may have it:—it is still there. All you have to do is to take a cage with you, call, and ask for Mr. Dawson's Poluphloisboio.' Of coarse Cherry was quite delighted;—indeed, he almost hugged my friend Dawson; and all the rest of the evening he could think and talk of nothing but the bird with a hard name. At length he thought of asking how large a cage he ought to take with him. 'The largest you have got,' replied Dawson. So the evening passed away; and next morning, before the clock struck nine, there was Cherry, rattling up Regent Street as fast as he could in a hack-cab, with a huge parrot-cage jolting on his knees. Well, he reached Castle Street, found out Snodkins's, and said, 'Pleathe, I have come for Mithter Dawthon'th Poluphloithboio.'—'for Mr. Dawson's what?' cried Snodkins.—'For Mithter Dawthon'th Poluphloithboio,' repeated Cherry.—'And what the devil is that? and who the deuce are you?' roared Snodkins, who thought that Cherry had come to make a fool of him.—'The thing ith a bird; and my name ith Thir Cherway Bounthe,' was the reply.—'And my name is Snodkins,' said the fellow; 'and I don't understand being made a fool of by you.'—'Mithter Dawthon bought a bird here a few dayth ago,' persisted Cherry; 'and he thayth I may have it. Here'th the cage: tho give me the bird.'—Snodkins was now inclined to believe that it was all right; so he brought down the bird, put it into the cage, and Cherry