But, hark! what sound is that which suddenly falls upon her ear?
She starts—looks round—and listens.
Again!—that sound is repeated.
This time she comprehends its source: some one is tapping gently at the side window of the room.
Ellen hastily put on her gown once more, and advanced to the casement.
She raised the blind, and beheld the dark form of a man mounted upon a ladder, at the window. A second glance convinced her that he was the tall Italian whom she had before seen.
She approached as closely as possible, and said, in a low tone, "What do you require? what this strange proceeding?"
"I am come to save you," answered Filippo, in a voice so low, that his words were scarcely intelligible. "Do not be afraid—I am he who wrote the warning letter, which——"
Without a moment's farther hesitation, Ellen gently raised the window.
"I am he who wrote the warning letter which you received at the theatre," repeated Filippo. "Although ostensibly compelled to serve my master, yet privately I counteract all his vile schemes to the utmost of my power."
"I believe you—I trust you," said Ellen, overjoyed at the arrival of this unlooked-for succour. "What would you have me do?"
"Tie the sheets of the bed together—fasten one end to the bed-post, and throw the other outside," returned Filippo, speaking in a rapid whisper.
In less than a minute this was done; and Ellen once more assumed her bonnet and shawl.
By the directions of Filippo she then stepped upon the window-sill: he received her in his arms, and bore her in safety to the ground.
Then, taking the ladder on his shoulders, he desired her to follow him without speaking a word.
They passed behind the house, and stopped for a moment at a stable where Filippo deposited the ladder. He then led the way across a field adjoining the garden that belonged to the house.
"Lady," said the Italian, when they were at some distance from the dwelling, "if you consider that you owe me any gratitude for the service I am now rendering you, all the recompense I require is strict silence on your part with respect to the real mode of your escape."
"Rest well assured that I shall never betray you," answered Ellen. "But how is it that so bad a man as your master can possess so honest and generous a follower as you?"
"That, lady, is a mystery which it is by no means difficult to explain," replied Filippo. "Chosen by a noble-hearted lady, who by this time doubtless enjoys a sovereign rank in another clime, to counteract the villanies of Greenwood, I came to England; and fortunately I learnt that he required a foreign valet. I applied for the situation and obtained it. He believes me faithful, because I appear to enter heart and soul into all his schemes; but I generally succeed eventually in defeating or mitigating their evil effects upon others. This is the simple truth, lady; and you must consider my confidence in you as implicitly sacred. Any revelation—the slightest hint, on your part, would frustrate the generous purposes of my mistress. And think not, lady, that I am merely acting the part of a base spy:—I mean Mr. Greenwood no harm—I shall do him none: all I aim at is the prevention of harm springing from his machinations in regard to others. But we are now at the spot where a vehicle waits to convey you back to London."
Filippo opened the door of a barn, which they had just reached; and the cabman responded to his summons.
In a few minutes the vehicle was ready to depart. Ellen offered the Italian a recompense for his goodness towards her; but he drew himself up haughtily, and said, "Keep your gold, lady: I require no other reward than silence on your part."
He then handed Miss Monroe into the vehicle; and ordered the driver to conduct the lady whithersoever she commanded him.
Ellen desired to be taken home to Markham Place; the Italian raised his hat respectfully; and the cab drove rapidly away towards London.
Miss Monroe now began to reflect profoundly upon the nature of the excuse which she should offer to her father and Richard Markham, to account for her prolonged absence. We have before said that she had ceased to shrink from a falsehood; and she had certain cogent reasons for never associating her own name with that of Greenwood;—much less would she acquaint her father or Richard with an outrage which would only induce them to adopt means to punish its perpetrator, and thus bring them in collision with him.
At length she resolved upon stating that she had been taken ill at a concert where she had been engaged for the evening: this course would be comprehended by Markham, who would only have to substitute the word "theatre" for "concert" in his own imagination; and it would also satisfy her father.
We need merely add to this episode in our eventful history, that Ellen reached home safely at four o'clock in the morning, and that the excuse was satisfactory to both Markham and her father, who were anxiously awaiting her return.
CHAPTER XCIII.
NEWS FROM CASTELCICALA.
RETURN we once more to Diana Arlington, who still occupied the splendid mansion in Dover Street, which had been fitted up for her by the Earl of Warrington.
The routine of the life of the Enchantress continued the same as we have described it in Chapter LI.
The Earl of Warrington was unremitting in his attention, and unchanged in his liberality towards his beautiful mistress; and, on her part, Diana was the faithful friend and true companion who by her correct conduct maintained the confidence which she had inspired in the heart of her noble protector.
We must again introduce our readers to the Enchantress at the hour of breakfast, and in the little parlour where we have before seen her.
But on this occasion, instead of being occupied with the perusal of the Morning Herald, her entire attention was absorbed in the contents of a letter, which ran as follows:—
"Montoni, December 3, 1839.
"I sit down, my dearest Diana, to inform you that the ceremony of my union with his Serene Highness Angelo III. was solemnized yesterday.
"You are aware that this ceremony was to have taken place some months ago; but the intrigues of certain persons holding high and influential offices in the state, delayed it. Calumny after calumny against me was whispered in the ears of the Grand Duke; and, although his Highness believed not a word of those evil reports, I steadily refused to accept the honour he was anxious to confer upon me, until he had satisfied himself of the falsity of each successive calumny. At length I implored his Highness to address an autograph letter to the Earl of Warrington, with whom his Highness was acquainted during the residence of that good English nobleman in Castelcicala. His Highness complied with my request, and despatched his letter so privately that none of those who surround him suspected his proceeding. The Earl of Warrington, as you know, dearest Diana, hastened to reply. His answer was so satisfactory, so frank, so generous, so candid, that the Duke declared he would visit with his severest displeasure any one who dared breathe a word of calumny against me or my friends in England, in future.
"The next step adopted by his Serene Highness was to dismiss the Marquis of Gerrano from the office of Minister of Foreign Affairs. Baron Ruperto, the Under Secretary in that Department, retired with his superior. The Duke adopted this measure in consequence of the intrigues of those noblemen to thwart his Highness's intentions of raising to the ducal throne the woman whom he loved. You may suppose how grieved—how vexed—how distressed I have been through the conviction that I myself