"Yes—merely a few shillings," replied the solicitor.
"I wish, then, that every liability of Count Alteroni be settled in such a way that he may quit the prison without being asked for a single shilling. Here is the necessary amount: pay all that is due—and pay liberally."
"My dear sir," said the lawyer, hesitating, "I hope you have well reflected upon what you are about to do."
"Yes—yes," answered Richard impatiently: "I have well reflected, I can assure you."
"Two thousand pounds—or nearly so—is a large sum, Mr. Markham."
"I have weighed all the consequences."
"At least, then, you have received ample security—"
"Not a scrap of paper."
"Had I not better call and see this nobleman, and obtain from him a warrant of attorney or cognovit—"
"So far from doing any such thing," interrupted Markham, "you must take especial care not to mention to a soul the name of the person who has employed you to effect the count's release—not a syllable must escape your lips on this head; nor need you acquaint the clerks whom you may see, with your own name. In a word, the affair must be buried in profound mystery."
"Since you are determined," said Mr. Dyson, "I will obey your instructions to the very letter. But, once again, excuse me if I request you to reflect whether—"
"My dear sir, I have nothing more to reflect upon; and you will oblige me by terminating this business as speedily as possible."
The solicitor returned to the prison; and Markham, whom he now considered to be foolish or mad, instead of improvident and extravagant, threw himself back in the vehicle, and gave way to his reflections. His eyes were, however, turned towards the road leading to the Bench; for he was anxious to watch for the re-appearance of his agent.
Ten minutes had elapsed, when his attention was directed to two ladies who passed by the cab, and advanced towards the prison-gate.
He leant forward—he could not be mistaken:—no—it was indeed she—the idol of his adoration—the being whom he loved with a species of worship! She was walking with the countess. They were on their way to visit the count in his confinement; but Richard could not catch a glimpse of their countenances—though he divined full well that they wore not an expression of joy. It was not, however, necessary for him to behold Isabella's face, in order to recognise her:—he knew her by her symmetrical form, the elegant contours of which, even the ample shawl she wore could not hide: he knew her by her step—by her graceful and dignified gesture—by her lady-like, and yet unassuming gait.
Oh! how speedily, thought he within himself, were she and her parents to be restored to happiness again!
In about a quarter of an hour after the ladies had entered the prison, Dyson returned to his client.
"Is it all settled?" demanded Markham.
"Every thing," answered the lawyer.
"And when can the count leave the prison?"
"Almost immediately," replied Dyson, as he entered the vehicle once more.
Markham then ordered the driver to return to the City.
In the mean time the countess and Isabella repaired to the room which the noble exile occupied in the prison. As they ascended the steep stone staircase which led to it, they wondered within themselves when he whom they loved so tenderly would be restored in freedom to them.
The count was seated at a table covered with books and papers, and was busily occupied in arranging the latter when the countess and signora entered the room. They were instantly welcomed with the most affectionate warmth by the noble prisoner: and he endeavoured to assume a cheerful air in their presence.
"Any letters?" said the count, after the usual inquiries concerning health and comfort.
"None this morning," answered the countess. "And now, my dear husband, tell me—have you settled any plan to effect your release?"
"No," said the count. "I must trust to events. Were Armstrong alive, I should not hesitate to accept a loan from him;—but to none other would I apply."
At this moment a knock at the door of the prison chamber was heard; and the two inseparables, Captain Smilax Dapper and Sir Cherry Bounce, made their appearance.
"My dear count, you don't mean to say that it is really true, and that you are here on your own account—strike me!" ejaculated the gallant hussar.
"The newth wath twue—too twue, you thee, Thmilackth," said Sir Cherry, shuddering visibly, and without any affectation too as he glanced around him.
"True indeed!" cried the count, bitterly.
"I wonder whether they will let uth out again?" said Sir Cherry, gazing from the window. "But, I declare, they have got wacket-gwoundth here, and no leth than thwee pumpth. What can the pwithonerth want with tho muth water?"
"What, indeed—confound me!" exclaimed the captain. "For my part, I always heard that they lived upon beer. But tell me—how much is there against you?"
"Yeth—how muth?" echoed Sir Cherry Bounce.
"A mere trifle," answered the count evasively. "I have been cruelly robbed, and my present position is the result."
"Well," continued the captain, with remarkable embarrassment of manner, "we are all here together—and so there is no harm in speaking openly, you know—and Cherry isn't anybody, strike him!—I was thinking that a very satisfactory arrangement might be made. Always strike when the iron's hot! I have long entertained a high respect for your family, count: my late uncle, the general, who introduced me and Cherry to you, always spoke in the best possible terms of you, although he never said much about your past life, and even hinted that there was some mystery—"
"To what is all this to lead, Captain Dapper?" exclaimed the count, somewhat impatiently.
"Simply that—why do you stand there, laughing like a fool, Cherry?"
"Me, Thmilackth?"
"Yes—you. Well, as I was saying when Cherry interrupted me—I have always entertained the highest possible opinion of your family, count, and especially of the signora; and if she would accept my hand and heart—why, strike me! an arrangement could be made in four and twenty hours—"
"Captain Dapper," interrupted the count, "no more of this. I believe that you would not wantonly insult either my daughter or myself; but I cannot listen to the terms to which you allude."
"My dear count—"
"Silence, sir! No more of this!" exclaimed the noble Italian.
There was a pause, which was broken by the entrance of one of the turnkeys.
"Sir, I have the pleasure to inform you that you are discharged," said that functionary.
"Discharged!" ejaculated the count: "impossible! How could I be discharged?"
The countess and Isabella surveyed the turnkey with looks of the most intense and painful anxiety.
"A stranger has sent his solicitor to pay every thing against you at the gate; and all the fees and the little donations to us and the criers are paid also."
"You are bantering me, sirrah!" cried the count. "You are mistaken. The Envoy from my native land, who alone of all my acquaintances is capable of doing an action of this generous nature, and in so delicate a manner, has been absent from London for the last ten days, and is even unaware of my situation. Who then could have paid my debts?"
A name trembled upon Isabella's tongue; but the word died upon her lips. She dared not pronounce that name—although her heart told her that her surmise was correct, and that Richard Markham was the secret friend to whom her father was indebted for his liberty. Richard! the reward