"I mean," continued the signora, casting upon him a glance of deep tenderness and noble pride; "I mean that henceforth, Richard, I can have no secret from you,—that I must now disclose what has often before trembled upon my tongue; a secret which my father would not, however, as yet, have revealed to the English public generally,—the secret of his rank; for he whom the world knows as the Count Alteroni, is Alberto, Prince of Castelcicala!"
Strange was the effect that this revelation produced upon the young man. He felt, as if, when in a burning heat, a mighty volume of icy water had suddenly been dashed over him: his head appeared to swim round—his sight grew dim—he staggered, and would have fallen had not Isabella rushed towards him, exclaiming, "Richard—dear Richard—do you not believe how much I love you?"
Those words produced an instantaneous change within him: those sweet syllables, uttered in the silvery tones of lovely woman's tenderness—recalled him to himself.
"Ah! Isabella," he exclaimed, mournfully, "how insuperable is the barrier which divides us now!"
"And—if that barrier to which you allude, ever existed, was it less formidable when you were ignorant of the secret than it is at present?" asked Isabella, tenderly.
"It seems so to me," replied Richard. "Are you not placed on an eminence to which I never can hope to reach? have I not dared to lift my ambitious eyes towards a Princess—the daughter of one who will some day wear a sovereign crown? Oh! now the delusion is gone—I am awakened from a long dream! But, say—did your highness make this revelation to-day, in order to extinguish my adventurous aspirations at once and for ever?"
"Richard, you wrong me—cruelly wrong me!" exclaimed Isabella, bursting into tears.
"Forgive me—forgive me, sweetest, dearest girl!" cried Markham. "I was mad—I raved—I knew not what I said——"
"Richard, when we met here—once before—you doubted my affection, and then you asked me to forgive you! How often will you put my feelings to so cruel a test? how often will you renew those unjust suspicions?"
"O God! what have I done, that I should thus call tears to your eyes, Isabella? Forgive me, again—I say—forgive me: on my knees I implore——"