Then how assiduous was the poor girl to her parent, while her own heart was often well-nigh breaking! The Prince grew irritable and impatient, and even reproached his daughter for fretting on account of one who, as he declared, "had helped to hurry the Constitutional cause,—a cause that might have triumphed in time,—to a most ruinous catastrophe." But Isabella bore all this without a murmur; and as her father grew more harsh, her attentions towards him were redoubled. In her mother's kindness and sympathy the afflicted maiden found a consolation; but she could with difficulty bear up against the agony of suspense and alarm which she experienced on account of her lover.
At length,—about a week after the receipt of the fatal tidings connected with the battle of Ossore,—Whittingham called at the mansion, and placed in Isabella's hand a letter from Richard.
"He lives! he lives!" were the maiden's first words of reviving hope; "heaven be thanked—he lives!"
But Isabella's joy was speedily overclouded once more; for she saw, by the guarded manner in which he wrote and by the omission of his signature, that her lover was in danger.
Nevertheless—"where there is life, there is hope," as the proverb says; and, somewhat consoled by his conviction, she was less miserable than before!
And now came another tedious interval of suspense, the wretchedness of which was enhanced by the increasing indisposition of the Prince.
At length—at the expiration of about three weeks—the Princess Isabella received a letter from Signora Viviani, the nature of which, as already known to our readers, was not extremely well calculated to reassure the affectionate girl relative to her lover. It was true that she was informed of Richard's safe arrival at Pinalla, where he was in the society of kind friends; but vague and torturing fears were aroused by the fact that he himself had been unable to write to her.
Again was there a weary interval of silence; but this was suddenly broken in a manner calculated to re-awaken all the bright hopes which Isabella had once entertained relative to the future greatness of Richard Markham. On the 16th of January, the news of the glorious exploit at Estella reached the mansion of the exiled family in England; and inspired the young Princess with the most enthusiastic feelings of admiration towards him whom she loved so fondly, and of whom she had always thought so well.
"Oh! why am I bound to this bed of sickness?" exclaimed the Prince, when Signor Viviani's letter narrating that event was read to him. "Why am I not permitted to hasten to my native country, and take part with that gallant youth! No consideration of policy or delicacy should now restrain me; for the Austrian is in the land, and every true Castelcicalan should draw the sword and fling away the scabbard!"
"Compose yourself, dearest father," said Isabella, enraptured at the manner in which he had spoken of her lover: "excitement will only delay your recovery;—and something tells me that Castelcicala will soon demand your presence!"