THE RETURN TO ENGLAND.
It was on a beautiful morning, in the first week of March, that a large
war-steamer passed Gravesend, and pursued its rapid way towards
Woolwich.
She was a splendid vessel, rigged as a frigate, and carrying twelve
carronades. Her hull was entirely black, save in respect to the gilding
of her figurehead and of her stern-windows; but her interior was fitted
up in a style of costly magnificence. Large mirrors, chaste carving,
rich carpets, and soft ottomans gave to the chief cabin the air of a
princely drawing-room.
On the deck every thing denoted the nicest order and discipline. The
sailors performed their duties with that alacrity and skill which ever
characterise men-of-war's men who are commanded by experienced officers;
and two marines, with shouldered firelocks, paced the quarter-deck with
measured steps.
The white sails were all neatly furled; for the gallant vessel was now
progressing by the aid of that grand power which has achieved such
marvellous changes on the face of the earth. The tall chimney sent forth
a volume of black smoke; and the bosom of the mighty river was agitated
into high and foam-crested billows by the play of the vast
paddle-wheels.
From the summit of the main-mast floated the royal standard of
Castelcicala.
And on the deck, in the uniform of a general officer, and with a star
upon his breast, stood the Marquis of Estella, conversing with his
_aides-de-camp_.
At a short distance was Morcar—in plain, private clothes.
Richard was now returning to his native shore—occupying in the world a
far more exalted position than, in his wildest imaginings, he could ever
have hoped to attain. He had left England as an obscure individual—a
subordinate in a chivalrous expedition—under the authority of others:—he
came back with a star upon his breast—having achieved for himself a
renown which placed him amongst the greatest warriors of the age!
Unmarked by title, unknown to fame, was he when he had bade adieu to the
white cliffs of Albion a few months previously:—as the Regent of a
country liberated by himself—as a Marquis who had acquired nobility by
his own great deeds, did he now welcome his native clime once more.
Tears of joy stood in his eyes—emotions of ineffable bliss arose in his
bosom, as he thought of what he had been, and what he now was.
But vanity was not the feeling thus gratified: at the same time, to
assert that our hero was not proud of the glorious elevation which he
had reached by his own merits, would be to deny him the possession of
that laudable ambition which is an honour to those who entertain it.
There is, however, a vast distinction between vanity and a proper pride:
the former is a weakness—the latter the element of moral strength.
Yes: Richard _was_ proud—but not unduly so—of the honours which were now
associated with his name;—proud, because he had dashed aside every
barrier that had once seemed insuperable between the Princess and
himself.
And, oh! he was happy, too—supremely happy; for he knew that when he
landed at Woolwich he should behold her whom we have before declared to
be the only joy of his heart—the charming and well-beloved Isabella!
The gallant steamer pursued its way: Erith is passed;—and soon Woolwich
is in sight.
And now the cannon roars from the English arsenal: the volumes of white
smoke sweep over the bosom of the Thames;—the artillery salutes the
royal standard of Castelcicala.
The troops are drawn up in front of the barracks to do honour to their
heroic fellow-countryman, who retains his almost sovereign rank until
the moment when he shall resign it into the hands of that Prince on
whose brow he has come to place a diadem.
It is low water; and the Castelcicalan steamer drops her anchor at some
little distance from the wharf. Then, under a salute from the cannon of
the gallant vessel, the Marquis of Estella descends into a barge which
has been sent from the arsenal to waft him ashore.
But while he is still at a distance from the wharf his quick eye
discerns well-known forms standing near the spot where he is to land.
There are the Grand-Duke Alberto and the Grand-Duchess, attended by the
commandant of Woolwich and his staff; and leaning on her father's arm,
is also the Princess Isabella.
The Grand-Duke is in plain clothes: he has come as it were incognito,
and as a friend, to receive him to whom he is indebted for that throne
which awaits him; and he is moreover anxious that all the honours
proffered on this occasion shall be acknowledged by him who still bears
the rank of Regent of Castelcicala.
The barge touches the steps: Richard leaps ashore. He hurries up the
stairs—he stands upon the wharf; and, while the guard of honour of
British soldiers presents arms, he is affectionately embraced by the
Grand-Duke.
"Welcome—welcome, noble youth!" exclaimed Alberto, straining him to his
breast, as if he were a dearly beloved son.
"I thank heaven, that you, most gracious sovereign, are pleased with my
humble exertions in favour of Castelcicalan freedom," replied Markham,
whose heart was so full that he could with difficulty give utterance to
those words.
"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."
"I require nothing, your Highness," answered Morcar, in the same
respectful but firm tone as before,—"nothing save the favour which I
have demanded at your hands. No recompense could outweigh with me the
advantage which I have received from the contemplation of a character as
good as he is great—as noble by nature as he now is by name," continued
the gipsy, once more looking affectionately towards Markham;—"and, from
the moral influence of his society and example, I shall return to my
people a new man—a better man!"
Having thus spoken, Morcar wrung the hand of our hero with a fraternal
warmth, and was about to hurry away,—leaving all his hearers deeply
affected at the words which he had uttered,—when Isabella stepped
forward, caught him gently by the arm, and said in her sweet musical
voice, now so tremulously clear,—"But you have a wife, Morcar; and you
must tell her that the Princess Isabella is her friend! Nor will you
refuse to present her with this small token of that regard which I
proffer her."
Thus speaking, the Princess unfastened a gold chain from her neck, and
forced it upon Morcar.
"Yes, lady," said the gipsy, "Eva shall accept that gift from you; and
she shall pray morning and night for your happiness. Nay, more," he
added, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, "she shall hold up to her
son the example of him who is destined, lady, to make you the happiest
woman upon earth."
With these words, Morcar hurried away—hastened down the steps, leapt
into a wherry, and directed the rowers to push the boat instantly from
the wharf.
When it was some yards distant, Morcar turned his head towards the group
upon the quay, and waved his hand in token of adieu;—and every member of
that group returned his salutation with gestures that expressed the
kindest feelings towards him.
The party now proceeded to the residence of the commandant, where a
splendid _déjeuner_ was served up. Richard sate next to his Isabella,
and was supremely happy.
"Oh! how rejoiced shall I feel," he whispered to her, "when we can
escape from all the ceremony which accompanies rank and power, and
indulge uninterruptedly in that discourse which is so dear to hearts
that love like ours! For I have so much to tell you, beloved one; and
now that all the perils of war and strife are past, I can look with
calmness upon that series of events of which I was only enabled to send
you such slight and rapid accounts. But, believe me, Isabella—I would
much rather have come back to my native shores unattended by all that
ostentation and formal observance which have accompanied my return:
nevertheless, the high office with which I was invested, and the respect
due to your father by the one who came to announce with befitting
ceremony that a throne awaited him, demanded the presence of that state
and required that public demonstration. You must not, however, imagine,
dearest one, that a sudden elevation has made me vain."
"I have too high an opinion of your character, Richard," answered
Isabella, "to entertain such an idea for a single moment. I know that
you are not unduly proud; but I, Richard, am proud—proud of you!"
"And yet, dear girl," whispered our hero, "all I have done has been but
through the prompting of your image; and so did I write to you in the
evening after that dreadful battle which decided the fate of
Castelcicala."
"Ah! Richard, you know not the deep suspense which we experienced, and
the moments of indescribable alarm which _I_ felt, during the intervals
between the letters announcing your several successes," said the
Princess. "But all fear has now vanished—and happiness has taken its
place. When we glance at the past, it will only be to rejoice at those
events which have prepared so much joy for the future. Do you not
remember how often I bade you hope, when you were desponding? Oh! heaven
has indeed rewarded you, by placing you in so proud a position, for all
the misfortunes which you have endured."
"Rank and honours were nothing in my estimation," answered Richard, "had
they not removed the obstacles which separated me from you!"
A domestic now entered and stated that the carriages were in readiness;
and the illustrious party, having taken leave of the commandant and
officers of the garrison, proceeded to the mansion at Richmond.
Alberto and Richard Markham were then closeted for some time together.
Our hero presented his Highness with the official despatches from the
Ministers announcing his proclamation as Grand-Duke, and inviting him to
return to Castelcicala to take possession of the throne.
"Your Serene Highness will not deem me presumptuous," said Richard, when
these documents had been perused, "in accepting the executive sway
immediately after the battle of Montoni. My object was to ensure the
tranquillity of the country, and to lay the foundation of that liberal
system of government which I knew to be congenial to the sentiments of
your Highness. I appointed a Ministry formed of men who had shown their
devotion to the Constitutional cause, and who were worthy of the
confidence thus reposed in them. With respect to the late sovereign,
Angelo III., I learnt a few hours ere my departure, that he had taken
refuge in Austria; but in reference to the Grand-Duchess Eliza I have
obtained no tidings."
"I cordially approve of every step you have taken, my dear Richard,"
replied the Grand-Duke: "your conduct has been beyond all praise. I
expressed that opinion in the letter which I wrote to you, and wherein I
informed you that I should wait in England until you came in person to
announce to me the desire of the Castelcicalans that I should become
their sovereign. I have, as I told you in my communication, only just
recovered from a severe illness; but my duty to my country requires that
I should return thither as soon as possible. In four days I shall embark
on board the ship that brought you to England."
"So soon, my lord?" cried Markham, somewhat uneasily.
"I should leave England to-morrow, had I not one solemn but joyful task
to accomplish," answered the Duke with a smile. "Fear not, dear Richard,
that I shall delay your happiness any longer; for if you yourself do not
consider the haste indelicate, I purpose to bestow Isabella upon you the
day after to-morrow."
"Oh! my lord—what happiness!—and what deep gratitude do I owe you!"
exclaimed Richard, falling upon his knees, and pressing the sovereign's
hand to his lips.
"Rise, Richard—rise," said the Grand-Duke: "you owe me no gratitude—for
you forget how deeply I am your debtor! You have delivered my native
land from an odious tyranny—although it be of my own relative of whom I
am compelled to speak thus severely; and you have given me a throne. In
return I bestow upon you the dearest of all my earthly treasures—my
daughter!"
"And the study of my life shall be her happiness," replied our hero.
"But I have one great and signal favour to implore of your Highness; and
I tremble to ask it—lest you should receive my prayer coldly."
"What is there that you should hesitate to ask or that I could refuse to
grant?" exclaimed the Grand-Duke. "Speak, Richard:—the favour—if favour
it be—is already accorded."
"Your Highness must be informed," continued Richard, thus encouraged,
"that I have various duties to accomplish, which demand my presence for
some time in England. I have an old friend and his daughter dependant
upon me: I must settle them in a comfortable manner, to ensure their
happiness. There is also a young female named Katherine Wilmot,—whose
history I will relate to your Highness at a more convenient period,—but
to whom I have been in some measure left guardian. By letters which I
received a few days before my departure, I learnt that she is residing
at my house, with my old friend and his daughter. It will be my duty to
arrange plans for the welfare of Katherine. This I should wish to do in
concert with Isabella. Lastly, my lord, I have the hope of meeting my
brother—should he be still alive," added Richard, with a sigh. "Your
Highness is aware of our singular appointment for the 10th of July,
1843."
The Grand-Duke reflected profoundly for some minutes; and Richard
awaited his answer with intense anxiety.
"You shall have your will, noble-hearted young man!" at length cried
Alberto: "I was wrong to hesitate even for a moment; but you will pardon
me when you remember that in granting your request, I consent to a
long—long separation from my daughter."
"But when the time for the appointment with my brother shall have
passed," said Richard "Isabella and myself will hasten to Montoni; and
then, God grant that you may be parted from your daughter no more in
this life."
"Would it be impossible for you to effect a species of compromise with
me in this way?" returned Alberto, with a smile. "Provide for those who
are dependant on you; and when that duty is accomplished, pass at
Montoni the interval until the period of the appointment with your
brother shall demand your return to London."
"I would submit to your Highness this fact," answered Richard,—"that I
live in constant hope of the reappearance of my brother ere the stated
time; and should he seek me in the interval—should he be poor or
unhappy—should he require my aid or consolation—if I were far away——"
"I understand you," interrupted the Grand-Duke. "Be it as you say.
Provided Isabella will consent," he added, smiling, "you shall remain in
England until the autumn of 1843."
"Much as the Princess will grieve to separate from her parents——"
"You think she will be content to stay in this country with you," again
interrupted the Duke, laughing. "I see that you have already planned
every thing in your own way; and both the Grand-Duchess and myself are
too much pleased with you—too willing to testify our regard for you—and
too anxious to make reparation for the past," added his Serene Highness
significantly, "to oppose your projects in the slightest degree. It
shall be all as you desire."
"Your Highnesses will then render me completely happy," exclaimed
Richard, again pressing the Duke's hand to his lips.
Alberto then rang the bell, and commanded the domestic who answered the
summons to request the presence of the Grand-Duchess and the Princess.
Those illustrious ladies soon made their appearance—Isabella's heart
fluttering with a kind of joyful suspense, for she full well divined at
least _one topic_ that had been discussed during the private interview
of her father and her lover.
The two latter rose as the ladies entered the room.
Then the Grand-Duke took his daughter's hand, and said, "Isabella, our
duty towards our native land requires that your mother and myself should
return thither with the least possible delay. But before we depart, we
must ensure the happiness of you, beloved child, and of him who is in
every way worthy of your affections. Thus an imperious necessity demands
that the ceremony of your union should be speedily accomplished. I have
fixed the day after to-morrow for your bridal:—but you, dearest Isabel,
will remain in England with your noble husband. He himself will explain
to you—even if he has not already done so—the motives of this
arrangement. May God bless you, my beloved children! And, oh!" continued
the Grand-Duke, drawing himself up to his full height, while a glow of
honourable pride animated his countenance, "if there be one cause rather
than another which makes me rejoice in my sovereign rank, it is that I
am enabled to place this excellent young man in a position so exalted—on
an eminence so lofty—that none acquainted with his former history shall
ever think of associating his name with the misfortunes that are past!
And that he may give even a title to his bride and accompany her to the
altar with that proper independence which should belong to the character
of the husband, it is my will to create him PRINCE OF MONTONI; and here
is the decree which I have already prepared to that effect, and to which
I have affixed my royal seal."
[Illustration]
With these words the Grand-Duke took from the table a paper which he
presented to our hero, who received it on his bended knee.
He then rose: Alberto placed the hand of Isabella in his; and the young
lovers flew into each other's arms.
The parents exchanged glances of unfeigned satisfaction as they
witnessed the happiness of their charming daughter and of him whom she
loved so faithfully and so well.
Dinner was shortly announced; and around the table were smiling faces
gathered that evening.
At nine o'clock Richard took his departure alone in the Grand-Duke's
carriage; for he had transferred his own _aides-de-camp_ to the service
of their sovereign.
But when he bade farewell to Isabella on this occasion, it was with the
certainty of seeing each other again in a short time; and they inwardly
thanked heaven that their meeting was no longer clandestine, and that
their attachment was at length sanctioned by the parents of the charming
maiden.