"Yes--and I gave him some little encouragement." "What! without previously ascertaining whether the Signora's feelings are reciprocal?" cried Richard. "As for that, my dear Markham, remember that a dutiful daughter knows no will and no inclination save those of her parents." "This is not an English doctrine," said Markham, "so far as the principle applies to affairs of the heart." "It is nevertheless an Italian doctrine," exclaimed the count, somewhat haughtily; "and I have no doubt that Isabella will ever recognise the authority of her parents in this as in all other matters." As the count uttered these words, he rose and led the way to the drawing-room; and thus deprived Markham of that opportunity of making the confession he had intended. Richard was unhappy and dispirited. He perceived that the count was inclined to favour Mr. Greenwood's suit; and he now felt how dear Isabella was to him--how profoundly seated was his love for the beauteous Italian! Misfortunes never come alone. Richard was destined to receive a crushing blow, although innocently inflicted, the moment he entered the drawing-room. The countess was conversing with her daughter upon her own family connections. "Do not let us interrupt your conversation," said the count, as he took his seat upon the sofa near his wife. "We were only talking about the Chevalier Guilderstein, whose death was mentioned in yesterday's newspaper," observed the countess. "I was saying that I remembered how delighted I was when I discovered a few years ago that the chevalier was not related to our family, as he had always pretended to be." "And why so?" inquired the count. "Because the father of the chevalier was put to death in Austria for coining--or rather upon a charge of coining," answered the countess; "and although his innocence was discovered and proclaimed a few years after his death, I should not like to have amongst my ancestors a man who had been criminally convicted, however innocent he may in reality have been." "Certainly not," said the count. "I should be very sorry for any one whose character had ever been tainted with suspicion, to have the slightest connection with our family." "I cannot say that I agree with you," observed Isabel. "There can be no disgrace attached to one who has suffered under a false accusation: on the contrary--such a person is rather deserving of our deepest sympathy and----" "Heavens, Mr. Markham!" ejaculated the countess; "are you ill? Bella, dear--ring the bell--get Mr. Markham a glass of water----" "It is nothing--nothing, I can assure you," stammered Richard, whose countenance was as pale as that of a corpse. "Miss Isabella, do not give yourself any trouble! It was only a sudden faintness--a spasm: but it is over now." With these words Markham hurried to the bed-chamber which was always allotted to him when he visited the count's residence.