possible," said the Count, reluctantly; "but since I
have been in England, I think not. The recent revolution in France, the
democratic spirit rising in Europe, tend to throw back the cause of a
proscribed rebel. England swarms with revolutionists; my cousin's
residence in this country is in itself suspicious. The suspicion is
increased by his strange seclusion. There are many Italians here who would
aver that they had met with him, and that he was still engaged in
revolutionary projects."

"Aver--untruly."

"_Ma foi_--it comes to the same thing; _les absens ont toujours tort_. I
speak to a man of the world. No; without some such guarantee for his
faith, as his daughter's marriage with myself would give, his recall is
improbable. By the heaven above us, it shall be _impossible_!" The Count
rose as he said this--rose as if the mask of simulation had fairly fallen
from the visage of crime--rose tall and towering, a very image of masculine
power and strength, beside the slight bended form and sickly face of the
intellectual schemer. Randal was startled; but, rising also, he said
carelessly--

"What if this guarantee can no longer be given?--what if, in despair of
return, and in resignation to his altered fortunes, your cousin has
already married his daughter to some English suitor?"

"Ah, that would indeed be, next to my own marriage with her, the most
fortunate thing that could happen to myself."

"How? I don't understand!"

"Why, if my cousin has so abjured his birthright, and forsworn his rank--if
this heritage, which is so dangerous from its grandeur, pass, in case of
his pardon, to some obscure Englishman--a foreigner--a native of a country
that has no ties with ours--a country that is the very refuge of levellers
and Carbonari--_mort dema vie_--do you think that such would not annihilate
all chance of my cousin's restoration, and be an excuse even to the eyes
of Italy for formally conferring the sequestered estates on an Italian?
No; unless, indeed, the girl were to marry an Englishman of such name and
birth and connection as would in themselves be a guarantee, (and how in
poverty is this likely?) I should go back to Vienna with a light heart, if
I could say, 'My kinswoman is an Englishman's wife--shall her children be
the heirs to a house so renowned for its lineage, and so formidable for
its wealth?' _Parbleu!_ if my cousin were but an adventurer, or merely a
professor, he had been pardoned long ago. The grea