"Humble exertions do you call them!" cried the Grand-Duke. "At all events they have deserved the highest reward which it is in my power to offer."
And, as he thus spoke, Alberto placed the hand of our hero in that of the beauteous Isabella, while the Grand-Duchess said in a voice tremulous with joyful emotion, "Yes, dear Richard—you are now our son!"
Markham thanked the parents of his beloved with a rapid but expressive glance of the deepest gratitude; and he and Isabella exchanged looks of ineffable tenderness, as they pressed each other's hand in deep silence—for their hearts were too full to allow their lips to utter a syllable.
But those looks—how eloquent were they! They spoke of hopes long entertained—often dim and overclouded—but never completely abandoned—and now realized at last!
To appreciate duly the sweets of life, we should have frequently tasted its bitters; for it is by the influence of contrast, that the extent of either can be fully understood. Those who have been prosperous in their loves,—who have met with no objections at the hands of parents, and who have not been compelled to wrestle against adverse circumstances,—are incapable of understanding the amount of that bliss which was now experienced by Richard and Isabella. It was indeed a reward—an adequate recompense for all the fears they had entertained, the sighs they had heaved, and the tears they had shed on account of each other!
And we ourselves, reader, pen these lines with heart-felt pleasure; for there are times—and the present occasion is one—when we have almost fancied that our hero and heroine were real, living characters, whom we had seen often and known well;—and we are vain enough to hope that this feeling has not been confined to our own breast. Yes—we can picture to ourselves, with all its enthusiasm, that delightful scene when the handsome young man,—handsomer than ever in the uniform which denoted his high rank,—exchanged those glances of ineffable tenderness and devoted love with the charming Italian maiden,—more charming than ever with the light of bliss that shone in her eyes, made her sweet bosom heave, and brought to her cheeks a carnation glow beneath the faint tint of bistre which denoted her southern origin without marring the transparency of her pure complexion.
And now, the first delights of this meeting over, Richard presented his aides-de-camp to the illustrious family; then, beckoning Morcar towards him, he took the gipsy by the hand, saying, "It is to this faithful friend that Castelcicala is indebted for the first step in that glorious career which was finally crowned with triumph beneath the walls of Montoni."
"And I, as the sovereign of Castelcicala," returned the Grand-Duke, shaking Morcar warmly by the hand, "shall find means to testify my gratitude."
"Your Serene Highness will pardon me," said Morcar, in a firm but deferential manner, "if I decline any reward for the humble share I enjoyed in those successes of which his lordship ere now spoke. No:—the poor Zingaree has only done his duty towards a master whom he loved—and loves," continued Morcar, looking at Richard and dashing away a tear at the same time; "and it only remains for him to return to his family—and to his roving life. The sole favour I have to ask at the hands of these whom I have now the honour to address, is that when they hear—as they often may—the name of Gipsy vilified and abused, they will declare their belief that there are a few favourable exceptions."
"But is it possible that I can do nothing to serve you?" exclaimed the Duke, struck by the extreme modesty and propriety of the Zingaree's words and manner. "Consider how I may ameliorate your condition."