"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—"