beyond all doubt that Isabella was her daughter, she cried out, “Child of my heart! treasure of my soul!” and swooned in her arms.  The father, no less tender hearted but with more self-command, gave no other token of his feelings than the tears that streamed down his venerable face and beard.  With her lips pressed upon her mother’s, Isabella bent her eyes upon her father, with looks that spoke the gladness of her soul.

The queen was greatly affected by this touching scene, and said to Richard, “I know not whether you have done wisely in contriving this meeting, for sudden joy, it is known, can kill as well as grief.”  Then, turning to Isabella, she withdrew her from her mother, who, after her face had been sprinkled with water, came to her senses, and recollecting herself a little better, fell on her knees before the queen, entreating her majesty’s pardon.  Elizabeth graciously replied, and commanded that the two strangers should take up their abode in the palace, that they might have the more opportunity of rejoicing in their daughter’s society.  Richard then renewed his request that the queen would fulfil her promise, and bestow Isabella upon him, if so it were that he had deserved her, but if not, he begged to be sent where he might find opportunities of doing so.

The queen was well aware that Richard was well satisfied with himself, and that there was no need of putting him to further proof; she told him, therefore, that in four days he should obtain the object of his desires, and that she would honour their union with her royal countenance.  Richard then took his leave of her majesty, his heart swelling with joy at the near prospect of Isabella becoming his own for ever.  Time sped, but not with the nimbleness he desired; for those who live on the hopes of pleasure to come, always imagine that time does not fly, but hobbles on the feet of sloth itself.  At last the day came on which Richard expected, not to end his desires, but to find in Isabella new graces which should make him love her more, if more was possible.  But in that brief space of time, in which he thought the bark of his fortunes was running with a prosperous gale towards the desired haven, it encountered such a fearful tempest, as a thousand times threatened it with wreck.

The queen’s keeper of the robes, who had charge of Isabella, had a son aged two-and-twenty, named Count Ernest, whom his great wealth, his high blood, and his mother’s great favour with the queen, made too arrogant and overbearing.  He fell most violently in love with Isabella, and, during Richard’s absence, he had made some overtures to her which she had coldly disregarded.  Although repugnance and disdain manifested at the outset usually make the enamoured desist from their suit, yet Isabella’s notorious disdain had the contrary effect on Ernest, for it fired his passion, and consumed his sense of honour.  He was almost distracted when he found that the queen had adjudged Isabella to Richard, and that she was so soon to become his; but before he committed himself to the infamous and dastardly course which he ultimately adopted, he first besought his mother to use her influence with the queen on his behalf, declaring that his death was at hand unless he obtained Isabella for his wife.