CHAPTER LXXIII.
CAPTAIN DAPPER AND SIR CHERRY BOUNCE.
THE verdure of the early spring re-clothed the trees with their gay garments, and gave back its air of cheerfulness to the residence of Count Alteroni.
It was about mid-day; and the sun beamed brightly from a heaven of unclouded blue. Nature appeared to be reviving from the despotism of winter's rule; and the primrose peeped bashfully forth to welcome the return of the feathered chorister of the grove.
The count and countess, with their lovely daughter, were seated in the breakfast-parlour. The two ladies were occupied with their embroidery: the noble Italian exile himself was reading the Montoni Gazette, which that morning's post had brought him.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of surprise, and then appeared to read with additional interest and attention.
"What news from Castelcicala?" inquired the countess.
"You remember that the Earl of Warrington applied to me between three and four months ago for letters of introduction on behalf of a lady of the name of Eliza Sydney?" said the count.
"And who was about to visit Castelcicala in order to escape the persecution of that vile man who aspired to the hand of Isabella," added the countess.
"The very same. She is a cousin of the Earl of Warrington; and it appears that her presence has created quite a sensation in Montoni. The Gazette of the 15th of last month contains the following passage:—'The fashionable circles of Montoni have lately received a brilliant addition in the person of Miss Eliza Sydney, a near relative of the Earl of Warrington, the noble Englishman who purchased some years ago the beautiful villa at the extremity of the suburbs of Petrarca. Miss Sydney has taken up her abode at the villa; and during the month that she has already honoured our city with her presence, her agreeable manners, amiable qualities, and great personal attractions have won all hearts. It is even rumoured that the highest person in the land has not remained indifferent to the attractions of this charming foreigner.'"
"Surely this latter sentence cannot allude to the duke?" exclaimed the countess.
"It can allude to none other," answered the count: "'the highest person in the land.' Of course it means the duke. But, after all, it is probably only one of those idle reports which so frequently obtain vogue in the fashionable circles of all great cities—"
"Or one engendered in the fertile brain of a newspaper editor," said the countess. "Still it would be strange if, through your letters of introduction—"
"Oh! it is too absurd to speculate upon," interrupted the count, impatiently.
"And yet your lordship is not unaccustomed to judge now and then by the mere superficial appearances of things," said the countess severely.
"I!" ejaculated the Italian noble.
"Decidedly," answered the countess. "You believed Mr. Greenwood to be an honest man without examining into his real position—"
"Ah! that one foolish step of mine!"
"And you pronounced Mr. Markham a villain without according him an opportunity of giving an explanation," added the countess.
"Always Richard Markham!" cried the count angrily. "Why do you perpetually throw his name in my teeth?"
"Because I think that you judged him too hastily," said the countess.
"Not at all! did he not admit that he had been in Newgate?"
A cold shudder crept over Isabella's frame.
"Yes; and so has our friend Mr. Armstrong, whom you value so highly, and whose letter from Germany gave you so much pleasure yesterday morning."
"Certainly I was pleased to receive that letter, because I had not heard from Armstrong so long: I fancied that something had happened to him. But, to return to what you were saying," continued the count; "Armstrong was incarcerated merely for a political offence; and there is something honourable in that."
"Mr. Markham may have been more unfortunate than guilty," said the countess. "At all events you have condemned without giving him a fair hearing. I have even asked you to refer to the newspapers of the period and read his case; but you refuse to give him a single chance."
"Your ladyship is very quick to blame," said the count, somewhat sarcastically; "but you forget how rejoiced you were some years ago to discover that the chevalier Gilderstein, whose father was executed for coining, was no relation of your family, as you had long deemed him to be: and yet the chevalier was himself innocent of his father's offence."
"I certainly have expressed myself more than once in the way you mention," returned the countess; "but I had so spoken without due consideration. Now that a case is immediately present to my view, I am inclined to feel and act more charitably."
"But how could Mr. Markham justify himself?" exclaimed the count. "Was not that attempt at burglary in this house so very glaring?"
"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