Thus was it with mingled feelings of joy and melancholy that Markham reviewed the contents of that letter.
Still he clung to Hope,—for Isabella had bade him hope; and he thought that the same good Providence which had thus far reconciled him to the father of his beloved, might in time accomplish more striking miracles in his favour.
But, alas! it must indeed be a miracle that could link his fate with the high destinies of the ducal house of Castelcicala!
Isabella, instead of being the daughter of an obscure count, was the only child of one who, if he were not to become himself the sovereign of the most powerful petty state in Europe, would at all events occupy a station next only to the sovereign whenever circumstances should allow him to return to his native land.
But, on the other hand, Isabella was faithful and true; and what might not be expected from woman's love?
In a word, Markham was rather inclined to hope than to despair; and the incidents of that morning imparted to his soul a solace which was a recompense for much, very much of past suffering.
Having partaken of some refreshment, Richard returned to London, and repaired to the bank where the cheque was made payable.
He only drew for the amount actually due to him, and desired that the surplus might be retained in behalf of Count Alteroni (under which name the Prince was known at the bankers' establishment).
On his return home, Richard addressed the following letter to the Italian nobleman:—
"A thousand thanks, my dear lord, for your most kind and courteous letter. To find that you have at length become convinced that I was unfortunate, and never guilty, is a source of happiness the extent of which I cannot describe.