house before then, of course, and it must be your house."
"Be it so—no say more; I will cheat myself, and think to call to-morrow."
Of Isabella it might perhaps be said, "some natural tears she dropped, but wiped them soon;" yet promised herself never to forget the many pithy maxims the good old man had uttered in the way of advice, nor the true kindness and support he had given in those trying scenes which would hereafter appear to her as the dreams of "romance rather than reality." Surely her after-life would be that of calm, yet, what some might call mere hum-drum happiness. She was young, but in a short time she had gone through whole ages of fears and sorrows. Was she not going through them now, for where was Glentworth?—how was his health?—had he arrived at Messina?
Some of these questions were likely to be answered, for the Count put into her hands a letter, directed, as agreed between them, to Leghorn.
