The count embraced his wife and daughter tenderly, and with much difficulty tore himself away, in order to leave a comfortable home for a miserable sponging-house.
CHAPTER LXXXV.
A FRIEND IN NEED.
TEN days after the arrest of Count Alteroni, a young lady was proceeding, at about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, down the Blackfriars Road.
She was dressed plainly, but with that exquisite taste which denotes a polished mind, and is in itself an aristocracy of sentiment. She looked neither to the right nor to the left: her pace was somewhat rapid, as if she were anxious to arrive at her destination:—and though there was something timid in her manner as she threaded her way along the crowded thoroughfare, few who passed her could help turning round to obtain another glimpse of the sylph-like form of that unassuming girl.
From the opposite direction advanced a young man of tall and handsome appearance, neatly dressed, and with a shade of melancholy upon his countenance.
In a few moments he met the young lady, and was about to pass her, when his eyes happened to catch a glimpse of her lovely features.
He started with surprise, exclaiming, "Signora! is it possible? Do we indeed meet again? Ah! it seems to me that it is an age since I saw you, dearest Isabella!"
"And since we last met, Richard, many unfortunate events have happened. My poor father—"
"Your father! what can have happened to him?" cried Markham, struck by the mournful tone of the beauteous Italian.
"He is in the Queen's Bench Prison," replied Isabella, her eyes filling with tears.