Her countenance bore a somewhat melancholy but resigned expression; and the amiability of her soul shone in her large, soft, melting hazel eyes.
It was noon—about a week after the date of the incidents related in the preceding chapter.
Scarcely had the time-piece upon the mantel proclaimed the mid-day hour, when a carriage drove up to the front door of the villa.
A few moments elapsed; and three visitors were ushered into the parlour where Eliza awaited them.
These were the Prince and Princess of Montoni and Katherine Markham.
Eliza extended her hand with ingenuous courtesy towards Richard, saying, "Prince, no selfish feelings can prevent me from congratulating you on that proud position which your prowess and your virtues have achieved for yourself." Then, offering her hand to Isabella, she added, "Nor need I wait for a formal introduction to one whom I now see for the first time, but of whom I have heard so much that I am well prepared to become her friend—if her Highness will permit me."
There was something so sweet and touching—something so frank and sincere—in the manner of the exiled Grand-Duchess of Castelcicala, that Isabella's heart was instantaneously warmed towards her. Moreover, the young Princess felt all the noble generosity of that conduct on the part of one who had lost a throne by the events which had led to the happiness of herself and her husband, and which had achieved the exaltation of her parents.
Thus were those two beauteous creatures attracted to each other the instant they met; and Isabella, instead of receiving the out-stretched hand that was offered as the pledge of friendship, threw herself into Eliza's arms.
It was a touching picture,—the embrace of that charming bride and that scarcely less charming widow!
In due course Markham presented his sister to the exiled Grand-Duchess, who received her in the most affable and cordial manner.