The moment Richard set foot in the street, he was caught in the arms of the faithful Whittingham, who welcomed him with a kind of paternal affection, and whimpered over him like a child. Eliza Sydney entered the carriage awaiting her at the door of Newgate, and was clasped to the bosom of Mrs. Arlington. The vehicle immediately drove rapidly away in a north-easterly direction. "Mr. Monroe is waiting for you at your own house at Holloway," said Whittingham to his young master, when the first ebullition of joy was over. "He has been ailing lately--and he thought that this happy and fortitudinous event would be too much for his nerves." "Let us make haste home, my excellent friend," observed Markham. "I am dying to behold once more the haunts of my childhood." Whittingham summoned a cab; and he and his young master were soon rolling along the road which led to _home_. Two years' imprisonment had produced a great effect upon Richard Markham. The intellectual cast and faultless beauty of his countenance still remained; but the joyous expression, natural to youth, had fled for ever; and in its place was a settled melancholy which proclaimed an early and intimate acquaintance with misfortune. His spirit was broken; but his principles were not undermined:--his heart was lacerated to its very core,--but his integrity remained intact. Even though the gate of his prison had closed behind him, he could not shake off the idea that his very countenance proclaimed him to be a _Freed Convict_. At length the cab reached Markham Place. Richard glanced, with a momentary gleam of satisfaction upon his pale countenance, towards the hill on which stood the two trees--the rallying point for the brothers who had separated, more than six years back, beneath their foliage. Tears started to his eyes; and the ray of sunshine upon his brow gave place to a cloud of deep and sombre melancholy. He thought of what he was when he bade adieu to his brother at that period, and what he was at the present moment. _Then_ all was blooming and encouraging in his path; and _now_ he felt as if the mark of Cain were upon him! He alighted from the vehicle, and entered the library, where Mr. Monroe awaited him. He and his guardian were at length alone together. But how altered was Monroe since Richard had last seen him! His form was bowed down, his countenance was haggard, his eyes were sunken, and his brow was covered with wrinkles. He glanced furtively and anxiously around him the instant the young man entered the room; and, instead of hastening forward to welcome him, he sank upon a chair, covering his face with his hands. The tears trickled through his fingers; and his breast was convulsed with deep sobs. "In the name of heaven, what ails you, sir?" demanded Richard. "My boy--you have come back at last," exclaimed the old gentleman, scarcely able to articulate a word, through the bitterness of his grief;--"and this much-dreaded day has at length arrived!"