"When I was publicly disgraced at the theatre—in the midst of a triumph. Yes—Isabella, you were there—there, when my shame was consummated!"
"Accident had led us to the theatre that evening," answered Isabella. "My father had heard that a new tragedy, of which grand hopes were entertained, was to be produced; and he insisted that I should accompany him and my mother. I was compelled to assent to his desire—although I prefer retirement and tranquillity to society and gaiety. You may conceive our astonishment—you may imagine my surprise and my joy, when you came forward to acknowledge the congratulations offered for a triumph so brilliantly achieved. And then—but let us leave that subject—my blood turns cold when I think of it!"
"Oh! go on—speak of it, speak of it!" exclaimed Markham, enthusiastically; "for although the reminiscence of that fearful scene be like pouring molten lead upon an open wound, still it is sweet—it is sweet, Isabella, to receive sympathy from such lips as yours."
"Alas! I have little more to say—except that the sudden intervention of that terrible man seemed to strike me as with the arrow of death; and I became insensible. Then, Richard,—then," continued Isabella, in a low and tremulous tone, "my mother suspected my secret—or rather received a confirmation of the suspicion which she had long entertained!"
"And she shuddered at the mere idea?" exclaimed Markham, interrogatively.
"No, Richard: my mother is kind and good—and, you know, was always well disposed towards you: I have told you that much before! She said little—and of that no matter! But my father—my father——"
"He discovered our secret also!" exclaimed Richard. "Oh! did he not curse me?"
"He was cool and calm, when—on the following morning—he spoke to me upon the subject. I answered him frankly: I admitted my attachment for you."
"What did he say, Isabella! Tell me every thing—suppress not a word!"
"Oh, heavens! he made me very miserable," returned Isabella, tears trickling down her countenance. "But wherefore distress both yourself and me with a recapitulation of what ensued? Suffice it to say, that I collected all the arguments in my memory—and they were not a few;—and I presented to him that paper—the confession of Talbot, which proved your innocence!"