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diff --git a/2950-0.txt b/2950-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b52db66 --- /dev/null +++ b/2950-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10317 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Midnight Queen, by May Agnes Fleming + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost +no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use +it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this +eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Midnight Queen + +Author: May Agnes Fleming + +Release Date: December 25, 2008 [EBook #2950] +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + +THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN By May Agnes Fleming + + + +Contents + +THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN + + CHAPTER I. THE SORCERESS. + CHAPTER II. THE DEAD BRIDE + CHAPTER III. THE COURT PAGE + CHAPTER IV. THE STRANGER. + CHAPTER V. THE DWARF AND THE RUIN. + CHAPTER VI. LA MASQUE + CHAPTER VII. THE EARL'S BARGE. + CHAPTER VIII. THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN. + CHAPTER IX. LEOLINE. + CHAPTER X. THE PAGE, THE FIRES, AND THE FALL. + CHAPTER XI. THE EXECUTION. + CHAPTER XII. DOOM. + CHAPTER XIII. ESCAPED. + CHAPTER XIV. IN THE DUNGEON. + CHAPTER XV. LEOLINE'S VISITORS. + CHAPTER XVI. THE THIRD VISION. + CHAPTER XVII. THE HIDDEN FACE + CHAPTER XVIII. THE INTERVIEW. + CHAPTER XIX. HUBERT'S WHISPER. + CHAPTER XX. AT THE PLAGUE-PIT. + CHAPTER XXI. WHAT WAS BEHIND THE MASK. + CHAPTER XXII. DAY-DAWN. + CHAPTER XXIII. FINIS + + + + +THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN, + + + +CHAPTER I. THE SORCERESS + +The plague raged in the city of London. The destroying angel had gone +forth, and kindled with its fiery breath the awful pestilence, until all +London became one mighty lazar-house. Thousands were swept away daily; +grass grew in the streets, and the living were scarce able to bury +the dead. Business of all kinds was at an end, except that of the +coffin-makers and drivers of the pest-cart. Whole streets were shut up, +and almost every other house in the city bore the fatal red cross, and +the ominous inscription, “Lord have mercy on us”. Few people, save the +watchmen, armed with halberts, keeping guard over the stricken houses, +appeared in the streets; and those who ventured there, shrank from each +other, and passed rapidly on with averted faces. Many even fell dead on +the sidewalk, and lay with their ghastly, discolored faces, upturned to +the mocking sunlight, until the dead-cart came rattling along, and +the drivers hoisted the body with their pitchforks on the top of their +dreadful load. Few other vehicles besides those same dead-carts appeared +in the city now; and they plied their trade busily, day and night; and +the cry of the drivers echoed dismally through the deserted streets: +“Bring out your dead! bring out your dead!” All who could do so had long +ago fled from the devoted city; and London lay under the burning heat +of the June sunshine, stricken for its sins by the hand of God. The +pest-houses were full, so were the plague-pits, where the dead were +hurled in cartfuls; and no one knew who rose up in health in the morning +but that they might be lying stark and dead in a few hours. The very +churches were forsaken; their pastors fled or lying in the plague-pits; +and it was even resolved to convert the great cathedral of St. Paul into +a vast plague-hospital. Cries and lamentations echoed from one end +of the city to the other, and Death and Charles reigned over London +together. + +Yet in the midst of all this, many scenes of wild orgies and debauchery +still went on within its gates--as, in our own day, when the cholera +ravaged Paris, the inhabitants of that facetious city made it a +carnival, so now, in London, they were many who, feeling they had but a +few days to live at the most, resolved to defy death, and indulge in the +revelry while they yet existed. “Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow +you die!” was their motto; and if in the midst of the frantic dance or +debauched revel one of them dropped dead, the others only shrieked with +laughter, hurled the livid body out to the street, and the demoniac +mirth grew twice as fast and furious as before. Robbers and cut-purses +paraded the streets at noonday, entered boldly closed and deserted +houses, and bore off with impunity, whatever they pleased. Highwaymen +infested Hounslow Heath, and all the roads leading from the city, +levying a toll on all who passed, and plundering fearlessly the flying +citizens. In fact, far-famed London town, in the year of grace 1665, +would have given one a good idea of Pandemonium broke loose. + +It was drawing to the close of an almost tropical June day, that the +crowd who had thronged the precincts of St. Paul's since early morning, +began to disperse. The sun, that had throbbed the livelong day like a +great heart of fire in a sea of brass, was sinking from sight in clouds +of crimson, purple and gold, yet Paul's Walk was crowded. There were +court-gallants in ruffles and plumes; ballad-singers chanting the not +over-delicate ditties of the Earl of Rochester; usurers exchanging +gold for bonds worth three times what they gave for them; quack-doctors +reading in dolorous tones the bills of mortality of the preceding day, +and selling plague-waters and anti-pestilential abominations, whose +merit they loudly extolled; ladies too, richly dressed, and many of them +masked; and booksellers who always made St. Paul's a favorite haunt, and +even to this day patronize its precincts, and flourish in the regions of +Paternoster Row and Ave Maria Lane; court pages in rich liveries, pert +and flippant; serving-men out of place, and pickpockets with a keen eye +to business; all clashed and jostled together, raising a din to which +the Plain of Shinar, with its confusion of tongues and Babylonish +workmen, were as nothing. + +Moving serenely through this discordant sea of his fellow-creatures came +a young man booted and spurred, whose rich doublet of cherry colored +velvet, edged and spangled with gold, and jaunty hat set slightly on +one side of his head, with its long black plume and diamond clasp, +proclaimed him to be somebody. A profusion of snowy shirt-frill rushed +impetuously out of his doublet; a black-velvet cloak, lined with +amber-satin, fell picturesquely from his shoulders; a sword with a +jeweled hilt clanked on the pavement as he walked. One hand was covered +with a gauntlet of canary-colored kid, perfumed to a degree that would +shame any belle of to-day, the other, which rested lightly on his +sword-hilt, flashed with a splendid opal, splendidly set. He was a +handsome fellow too, with fair waving hair (for he had the good taste +to discard the ugly wigs then in vogue), dark, bright, handsome eyes, +a thick blonde moustache, a tall and remarkably graceful figure, and an +expression of countenance wherein easy good-nature and fiery impetuosity +had a hard struggle for mastery. That he was a courtier of rank, was +apparent from his rich attire and rather aristocratic bearing and +a crowd of hangers-on followed him as he went, loudly demanding +spur-money. A group of timbril-girls, singing shrilly the songs of the +day, called boldly to him as he passed; and one of them, more free and +easy than the rest, danced up to him striking her timbrel, and shouting +rather than singing the chorus of the then popular ditty, + + + “What care I for pest or plague? + We can die but once, God wot, + Kiss me darling--stay with me: + Love me--love me, leave me not!” + +The darling in question turned his bright blue eyes on that dashing +street-singer with a cool glance of recognition. + +“Very sorry, Nell,” he said, in a nonchalant tone, “but I'm afraid I +must. How long have you been here, may I ask?” + +“A full hour by St. Paul's; and where has Sir Norman Kingsley been, may +I ask? I thought you were dead of the plague.” + +“Not exactly. Have you seen--ah! there he is. The very man I want.” + +With which Sir Norman Kingsley dropped a gold piece into the girl's +extended palm, and pushed on through the crowd up Paul's Walk. A tall, +dark figure was leaning moodily with folded arms, looking fixedly at +the ground, and taking no notice of the busy scene around him until Sir +Norman laid his ungloved and jeweled hand lightly on his shoulder. + +“Good morning, Ormiston. I had an idea I would find you here, and--but +what's the matter with you, man? Have you got the plague? or has your +mysterious inamorata jilted you? or what other annoyance has happened to +make you look as woebegone as old King Lear, sent adrift by his tender +daughters to take care of himself?” + +The individual addressed lifted his head, disclosing a dark and rather +handsome face, settled now into a look of gloomy discontent. He slightly +raised his hat as he saw who his questioner was. + +“Ah! it's you, Sir Norman! I had given up all notion of your coming, and +was about to quit this confounded babel--this tumultuous den of thieves. +What has detained you?” + +“I was on duty at Whitehall. Are we not in time to keep our +appointment?” + +“Oh, certainly! La Masque is at home to visitors at all hours, day and +night. I believe in my soul she doesn't know what sleep means.” + +“And you are still as much in love with her as ever, I dare swear! I +have no doubt, now, it was of her you were thinking when I came up. +Nothing else could ever have made you look so dismally woebegone as you +did, when Providence sent me to your relief.” + +“I was thinking of her,” said the young man moodily, and with a +darkening brow. + +Sir Norman favored him with a half-amused, half-contemptuous stare for a +moment; then stopped at a huckster's stall to purchase some cigarettes; +lit one, and after smoking for a few minutes, pleasantly remarked, as if +the fact had just struck him: + +“Ormiston, you're a fool!” + +“I know it!” said Ormiston, sententiously. + +“The idea,” said Sir Norman, knocking the ashes daintily off the end +of his cigar with the tip of his little finger--“the idea of falling in +love with a woman whose face you have never seen! I can understand a man +a going to any absurd extreme when he falls in love in proper Christian +fashion, with a proper Christian face; but to go stark, staring mad, as +you have done, my dear fellow, about a black loo mask, why--I consider +that a little too much of a good thing! Come, let us go.” + +Nodding easily to his numerous acquaintances as he went, Sir Norman +Kingsley sauntered leisurely down Paul's Walk, and out through the great +door of the cathedral, followed by his melancholy friend. Pausing for a +moment to gaze at the gorgeous sunset with a look of languid admiration, +Sir Norman passed his arm through that of his friend, and they walked +on at rather a rapid pace, in the direction of old London Bridge. There +were few people abroad, except the watchmen walking slowly up and down +before the plague-stricken houses; but in every street they passed +through they noticed huge piles of wood and coal heaped down the centre. +Smoking zealously they had walked on for a season in silence, when +Ormiston ceased puffing for a moment, to inquire: + +“What are all these for? This is a strange time, I should imagine, for +bonfires.” + +“They're not bonfires,” said Sir Norman; “at least they are not intended +for that; and if your head was not fuller of that masked Witch of Endor +than common sense (for I believe she is nothing better than a witch), +you could not have helped knowing. The Lord Mayor of London has been +inspired suddenly, with a notion, that if several thousand fires are +kindled at once in the streets, it will purify the air, and check the +pestilence; so when St. Paul's tolls the hour of midnight, all these +piles are to be fired. It will be a glorious illumination, no doubt; but +as to its stopping the progress of the plague, I am afraid that it is +altogether too good to be true.” + +“Why should you doubt it? The plague cannot last forever.” + +“No. But Lilly, the astrologer, who predicted its coming, also foretold +that it would last for many months yet; and since one prophecy has come +true, I see no reason why the other should not.” + +“Except the simple one that there would be nobody left alive to take it. +All London will be lying in the plague-pits by that time.” + +“A pleasant prospect; but a true one, I have no doubt. And, as I have no +ambition to be hurled headlong into one of those horrible holes, I shall +leave town altogether in a few days. And, Ormiston, I would strongly +recommend you to follow my example.” + +“Not I!” said Ormiston, in a tone of gloomy resolution. “While La Masque +stays, so will I.” + +“And perhaps die of the plague in a week.” + +“So be it! I don't fear the plague half as much as I do the thought of +losing her!” + +Again Sir Norman stared. + +“Oh, I see! It's a hopeless case! Faith, I begin to feel curious to see +this enchantress, who has managed so effectually to turn your brain. +When did you see her last?” + +“Yesterday,” said Ormiston, with a deep sigh. “And if she were made of +granite, she could not be harder to me than she is!” + +“So she doesn't care about you, then?” + +“Not she! She has a little Blenheim lapdog, that she loves a thousand +times more than she ever will me!” + +“Then what an idiot you are, to keep haunting her like her shadow! Why +don't you be a man, and tear out from your heart such a goddess?” + +“Ah! that's easily said; but if you were in my place, you'd act exactly +as I do.” + +“I don't believe it. It's not in me to go mad about anything with a +masked face and a marble heart. If I loved any woman--which, thank +Fortune! at this present time I do not--and she had the bad taste not +to return it, I should take my hat, make her a bow, and go directly and +love somebody else made of flesh and blood, instead of cast iron! You +know the old song, Ormiston: + + + 'If she be not fair for me + What care I how fair she be!'” + +“Kingsley, you know nothing about it!” said Ormiston, impatiently. “So +stop talking nonsense. If you are cold-blooded, I am not; and--I love +her!” + +Sir Norman slightly shrugged his shoulders, and flung his smoked-out +weed into a heap of fire-wood. + +“Are we near her house?” he asked. “Yonder is the bridge.” + +“And yonder is the house,” replied Ormiston, pointing to a large +ancient building--ancient even for those times--with three stories, each +projecting over the other. “See! while the houses on either side are +marked as pest-stricken, hers alone bears no cross. So it is: those +who cling to life are stricken with death: and those who, like me, are +desperate, even death shuns.” + +“Why, my dear Ormiston, you surely are not so far gone as that? Upon my +honor, I had no idea you were in such a bad way.” + +“I am nothing but a miserable wretch! and I wish to Heaven I was in +yonder dead-cart, with the rest of them--and she, too, if she never +intends to love me!” + +Ormiston spoke with such fierce earnestness, that there was no doubting +his sincerity; and Sir Norman became profoundly shocked--so much so, +that he did not speak again until they were almost at the door. Then he +opened his lips to ask, in a subdued tone: + +“She has predicted the future for you--what did she foretell?” + +“Nothing good; no fear of there being anything in store for such an +unlucky dog as I am.” + +“Where did she learn this wonderful black art of hers?” + +“In the East, I believe. She has been there and all over the world; and +now visits England for the first time.” + +“She has chosen a sprightly season for her visit. Is she not afraid of +the plague, I wonder?” + +“No; she fears nothing,” said Ormiston, as he knocked loudly at the +door. “I begin to believe she is made of adamant instead of what other +women are made of.” + +“Which is a rib, I believe,” observed Sir Norman, thoughtfully. “And +that accounts, I dare say, for their being of such a crooked and +cantankerous nature. They're a wonderful race women are; and for what +Inscrutable reason it has pleased Providence to create them--” + +The opening of the door brought to a sudden end this little touch of +moralizing, and a wrinkled old porter thrust out a very withered and +unlovely face. + +“La Masque at home?” inquired Ormiston, stepping in, without ceremony. + +The old man nodded, and pointed up stairs; and with a “This way, +Kingsley,” Ormiston sprang lightly up, three at a time, followed in the +same style by Sir Norman. + +“You seem pretty well acquainted with the latitude and longitude of this +place,” observed that young gentleman, as they passed into a room at the +head of the stairs. + +“I ought to be; I've been here often enough,” said Ormiston. “This is +the common waiting-room for all who wish to consult La Masque. That old +bag of bones who let us in has gone to announce us.” + +Sir Norman took a seat, and glanced curiously round the room. It was +a common-place apartment enough, with a floor of polished black oak, +slippery as ice, and shining like glass; a few old Flemish paintings on +the walls; a large, round table in the centre of the floor, on which +lay a pair of the old musical instruments called “virginals.” Two large, +curtainless windows, with minute diamond-shaped panes, set in leaden +casements, admitted the golden and crimson light. + +“For the reception-room of a sorceress,” remarked Sir Norman, with an +air of disappointed criticism, “there is nothing very wonderful about +all this. How is it she spaes fortunes any way? As Lilly does by maps +and charts; or as these old Eastern mufti do it by magic mirrors and all +each fooleries?” + +“Neither,” said Ormiston, “her style in more like that of the Indian +almechs, who show you your destiny in a well. She has a sort of magic +lake in her room, and--but you will see it all for yourself presently.” + +“I have always heard,” said Sir Norman, in the same meditative way, +“that truth lies at the bottom of a well, and I am glad some one has +turned up at last who is able to fish it out. Ah! Here comes our ancient +Mercury to show us to the presence of your goddess.” + +The door opened, and the “old bag of bones,” as Ormiston irreverently +styled his lady-love's ancient domestic, made a sign for them to follow +him. Leading the way down along a corridor, he flung open a pair of +shining folding-doors at the end, and ushered them at once into the +majestic presence of the sorceress and her magic room. Both gentlemen +doffed their plumed hats. Ormiston stepped forward at once; but Sir +Norman discreetly paused in the doorway to contemplate the scene of +action. As he slowly did so, a look of deep displeasure settled on his +features, on finding it not half so awful as he had supposed. + +In some ways it was very like the room they had left, being low, large, +and square, and having floors, walls and ceiling paneled with glossy +black oak. But it had no windows--a large bronze lamp, suspended from +the centre of the ceiling, shed a flickering, ghostly light. There were +no paintings--some grim carvings of skulls, skeletons, and +serpents, pleasantly wreathed the room--neither were there seats +nor tables--nothing but a huge ebony caldron at the upper end of the +apartment, over which a grinning skeleton on wires, with a scythe in +one hand of bone, and an hour-glass in the other, kept watch and ward. +Opposite this cheerful-looking guardian, was a tall figure in black, +standing an motionless as if it, too, was carved in ebony. It was a +female figure, very tall and slight, but as beautifully symmetrical as +a Venus Celestis. Her dress was of black velvet, that swept the polished +floor, spangled all over with stars of gold and rich rubies. A profusion +of shining black hair fell in waves and curls almost to her feet; but +her face, from forehead to chin, was completely hidden by a black velvet +mask. In one hand, exquisitely small and white, she held a gold casket, +blazing (like her dress) with rubies, and with the other she toyed with +a tame viper, that had twined itself round her wrist. This was doubtless +La Masque, and becoming conscious of that fact Sir Norman made her a +low and courtly bow. She returned it by a slight bend of the head, and +turning toward his companion, spoke: + +“You here, again, Mr. Ormiston! To what am I indebted for the honor of +two visits in two days?” + +Her voice, Sir Norman thought, was the sweetest he had ever heard, +musical as a chime of silver bells, soft as the tones of an aeolian harp +through which the west wind plays. + +“Madam, I am aware my visits are undesired,” said Ormiston, with a +flushing cheek and, slightly tremulous voice; “but I have merely come +with my friend, Sir Norman Kingsley, who wishes to know what the future +has in store for him.” + +Thus invoked, Sir Norman Kingsley stepped forward with another low bow +to the masked lady. + +“Yes, madam, I have long heard that those fair fingers can withdraw the +curtain of the future, and I have come to see what Dame Destiny is going +to do for me.” + +“Sir Norman Kingsley is welcome,” said the sweet voice, “and shall see +what he desires. There is but one condition, that he will keep perfectly +silent; for if he speaks, the scene he beholds will vanish. Come +forward!” + +Sir Norman compressed his lips as closely as if they were forever +hermetically sealed, and came forward accordingly. Leaning over the edge +of the ebony caldron, he found that it contained nothing more dreadful +than water, for he labored under a vague and unpleasant idea that, like +the witches' caldron in Macbeth, it might be filled with serpents' blood +and childrens' brains. La Masque opened her golden casket, and took from +it a portion of red powder, with which it was filled. Casting it into +the caldron, she murmured an invocation in Sanscrit, or Coptic, or some +other unknown tongue, and slowly there arose a dense cloud of dark-red +smoke, that nearly filled the room. Had Sir Norman ever read the story +of Aladdin, he would probably have thought of it then; but the young +courtier did not greatly affect literature of any kind, and thought of +nothing now but of seeing something when the smoke cleared away. It was +rather long in doing so, and when it did, he saw nothing at first but +his own handsome, half-serious, half-incredulous face; but gradually a +picture, distinct and clear, formed itself at the bottom, and Sir Norman +gazed with bewildered eyes. He saw a large room filled with a sparkling +crowd, many of them ladies, splendidly arrayed and flashing in jewels, +and foremost among them stood one whose beauty surpassed anything he +had ever before dreamed of. She wore the robes of a queen, purple and +ermine--diamonds blazed on the beautiful neck, arms, and fingers, and +a tiara of the same brilliants crowned her regal head. In one hand she +held a sceptre; what seemed to be a throne was behind her, but something +that surprised Sir Norton most of all was, to find himself standing +beside her, the cynosure of all eyes. While he yet gazed in mingled +astonishment and incredulity, the scene faded away, and another took its +place. This time a dungeon-cell, damp and dismal; walls, and floor, and +ceiling covered with green and hideous slime. A small lamp stood on the +floor, and by its sickly, watery gleam, he saw himself again standing, +pale and dejected, near the wall. But he was not alone; the same +glittering vision in purple and diamonds stood before him, and suddenly +he drew his sword and plunged it up to the hilt in her heart! The +beautiful vision fell like a stone at his feet, and the sword was drawn +out reeking with her life-blood. This was a little too much for the real +Sir Norman, and with an expression of indignant consternation, he sprang +upright. Instantly it all faded away and the reflection of his own +excited face looked up at him from the caldron. + +“I told you not to speak,” said La Masque, quietly, “but you must look +on still another scene.” + +Again she threw a portion of the contents of the casket into the +caldron, and “spake aloud the words of power.” Another cloud of smoke +arose and filled the room, and when it cleared away, Sir Norman beheld +a third and less startling sight. The scene and place he could not +discover, but it seemed to him like night and a storm. Two men were +lying on the ground, and bound fast together, it appeared to him. As he +looked, it faded away, and once more his own face seemed to mock him in +the clear water. + +“Do you know those two last figures!” asked the lady. + +“I do,” said Sir Norman, promptly; “it was Ormiston and myself.” + +“Right! and one of them was dead.” + +“Dead!” exclaimed Sir Norman, with a perceptible start. “Which one, +madam?” + +“If you cannot tell that, neither can I. If there is anything further +you wish to see, I am quite willing to show it to you.” + +“I'm obliged to you,” said Sir Norman, stepping back; “but no more at +present, thank you. Do you mean to say, madam, that I'm some day to +murder a lady, especially one so beautiful as she I just now saw?” + +“I have said nothing--all you've seen will come to pass, and whether +your destiny be for good or evil, I have nothing to do with it, except,” + said the sweet voice, earnestly, “that if La Masque could strew Sir +Norman Kingsley's pathway with roses, she would most assuredly do so.” + +“Madam, you are too kind,” said that young gentleman, laying his hand on +his heart, while Ormiston scowled darkly--“more especially as I've the +misfortune to be a perfect stranger to you.” + +“Not so, Sir Norman. I have known you this many a day; and before long +we shall be better acquainted. Permit me to wish you good evening!” + +At this gentle hint, both gentlemen bowed themselves out, and soon +found themselves in the street, with very different expressions of +countenance. Sir Norman looking considerably pleased and decidedly +puzzled, and Mr. Ormiston looking savagely and uncompromisingly jealous. +The animated skeleton who had admitted them closed the door after them; +and the two friends stood in the twilight on London Bridge. + + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE DEAD BRIDE + + “Well,” said Ormiston, drawing a long bath, “what do you think of that?” + +“Think? Don't ask me yet.” said Sir Norman, looking rather bewildered. +“I'm in such a state of mystification that I don't rightly know whether +I'm standing on my head or feet. For one thing, I have come to the +conclusion that your masked ladylove must be enchantingly beautiful.” + +“Have I not told you that a thousand times, O thou of little faith? But +why have you come to such a conclusion?” + +“Because no woman with such a figure, such a voice and such hands could +be otherwise.” + +“I knew you would own it some day. Do you wonder now that I love her?” + +“Oh! as to loving her,” said Sir Norman, coolly, “that's quite another +thing. I could no more love her or her hands, voice, and shape, than I +could a figure in wood or wax; but I admire her vastly, and think her +extremely clever. I will never forget that face in the caldron. It was +the most exquisitely beautiful I ever saw.” + +“In love with the shadow of a face! Why, you are a thousandfold more +absurd than I.” + +“No,” said Sir Norman, thoughtfully, “I don't know as I'm in love with +it; but if ever I see a living face like it, I certainly shall be. How +did La Masque do it, I wonder?” + +“You had better ask her,” said Ormiston, bitterly. “She seems to have +taken an unusual interest in you at first sight. She would strew your +path with roses, forsooth! Nothing earthly, I believe, would make her +say anything half so tender to me.” + +Sir Norman laughed, and stroked his moustache complacently. + +“All a matter of taste, my dear fellow: and these women are noted for +their perfection in that line. I begin to admire La Masque more and +more, and I think you had better give up the chase, and let me take your +place. I don't believe you have the ghost of a chance, Ormiston.” + +“I don't believe it myself,” said Ormiston, with a desperate face “but +until the plague carries me off I cannot give her up; and the sooner +that happens, the better. Ha! what is this?” + +It was a piercing shriek--no unusual sound; and as he spoke, the door of +an adjoining house was flung open, a woman rushed wildly out, fled down +an adjoining street, and disappeared. + +Sir Norman and his companion looked at each other, and then at the +house. + +“What's all this about?” demanded Ormiston. + +“That's a question I can't take it upon myself to answer,” said Sir +Norman; “and the only way to solve the mystery, is to go in and see.” + +“It may be the plague,” said Ormiston, hesitating. “Yet the house is not +marked. There is a watchman. I will ask him.” + +The man with the halberd in his hand was walking up and down before an +adjoining house, bearing the ominous red cross and piteous inscription: +“Lord have mercy on us!” + +“I don't know, sir,” was his answer to Ormiston. “If any one there has +the plague, they must have taken it lately; for I heard this morning +there was to be a wedding there to-night.” + +“I never heard of any one screaming in that fashion about a wedding,” + said Ormiston, doubtfully. “Do you know who lives there?” + +“No, sir. I only came here, myself, yesterday, but two or three times +to-day I have seen a very beautiful young lady looking out of the +window.” + +Ormiston thanked the man, and went back to report to his friend. + +“A beautiful young lady!” said Sir Norman, with energy. “Then I mean to +go directly up and see about it, and you can follow or not, just as you +please.” + +So saying, Sir Norman entered the open doorway, and found himself in a +long hall, flanked by a couple of doors on each side. These he opened +in rapid succession, finding nothing but silence and solitude; and +Ormiston--who, upon reflection, chose to follow--ran up a wide and +sweeping staircase at the end of the hall. Sir Norman followed him, and +they came to a hall similar to the one below. A door to the right lay +open; and both entered without ceremony, and looked around. + +The room was spacious, and richly furnished. Just enough light stole +through the oriel window at the further end, draped with crimson satin +embroidered with gold, to show it. The floor was of veined wood of many +colors, arranged in fanciful mosaics, and strewn with Turkish rugs and +Persian mats of gorgeous colors. The walls were carved, the ceiling +corniced, and all fretted with gold network and gilded mouldings. On a +couch covered with crimson satin, like the window drapery, lay a cithren +and some loose sheets of music. Near it was a small marble table, +covered with books and drawings, with a decanter of wine and an +exquisite little goblet of Bohemian glass. The marble mantel was strewn +with ornaments of porcelain and alabaster, and a beautifully-carved vase +of Parian marble stood in the centre, filled with brilliant flowers. +A great mirror reflected back the room, and beneath it stood a +toilet-table, strewn with jewels, laces, perfume-bottles, and an array +of costly little feminine trifles such as ladies were as fond of two +centuries ago as they are to-day. Evidently it was a lady's chamber; for +in a recess near the window stood a great quaint carved bedstead, with +curtains and snowy lace, looped back with golden arrows and scarlet +ribbons. Some one lay on it, too--at least, Ormiston thought so; and he +went cautiously forward, drew the curtain, and looked down. + +“Great Heaven! what a beautiful face!” was his cry, as he bent still +further down. + +“What the plague is the matter?” asked Sir Norman, coming forward. + +“You have said it,” said Ormiston, recoiling. “The plague is the matter. +There lies one dead of it!” + +Curiosity proving stronger than fear, Sir Norman stepped forward to look +at the corpse. It was a young girl with a face as lovely as a poet's +vision. That face was like snow, now; and, in its calm, cold majesty, +looked as exquisitely perfect as some ancient Grecian statue. The low, +pearly brow, the sweet, beautiful lips, the delicate oval outline of +countenance, were perfect. The eyes were closed, and the long dark +lashes rested on the ivory cheeks. A profusion of shining dark hair fell +in elaborate curls over her neck and shoulders. Her dress was that of +a bride; a robe of white satin brocaded with silver, fairly dazzling in +its shining radiance, and as brief in the article of sleeves and neck +as that of any modern belle. A circlet of pearls were clasped round her +snow-white throat, and bracelets of the same jewels encircled the snowy +taper arms. On her head she wore a bridal wreath and veil--the former +of jewels, the latter falling round her like a cloud of mist. Everything +was perfect, from the wreath and veil to the tiny sandaled feet and +lying there in her mute repose she looked more like some exquisite +piece of sculpture than anything that had ever lived and moved in this +groveling world of ours. But from one shoulder the dress had been pulled +down, and there lay a great livid purple plague-spot! + +“Come away!” said Ormiston, catching his companion by the arm. “It is +death to remain here!” + +Sir Norman had been standing like one in a trance, from which +this address roused him, and he grasped Ormiston's shoulder almost +frantically. + +“Look there, Ormiston! There lies the very face that sorceress showed +me, fifteen minutes ago, in her infernal caldron! I would know it at the +other end of the world!” + +“Are you sure?” said Ormiston, glancing again with new curiosity at the +marble face. “I never saw anything half so beautiful in all my life; but +you see she is dead of the plague.” + +“Dead? she cannot be! Nothing so perfect could die!” + +“Look there,” said Ormiston pointing to the plague-spot. “There is the +fatal token! For Heaven's sake let us get out of this, or we will share +the same fate before morning!” + +But Sir Norman did not move--could not move; he stood there rooted to +the spot by the spell of that lovely, lifeless face. + +Usually the plague left its victims hideous, ghastly, discolored, and +covered with blotches; but in this case then was nothing to mar the +perfect beauty of the satin-smooth skin, but that one dreadful mark. + +There Sir Norman stood in his trance, as motionless as if some genie out +of the “Arabian Nights” had suddenly turned him into stone (a trick they +were much addicted to), and destined him to remain there an ornamental +fixture for ever. Ormiston looked at him distractedly, uncertain whether +to try moral suasion or to take him by the collar and drag him headlong +down the stairs, when a providential but rather dismal circumstance came +to his relief. A cart came rattling along the street, a bell was loudly +rang, and a hoarse voice arose with it: “Bring out your dead! Bring out +your dead!” + +Ormiston rushed down stair to intercept the dead-cart, already almost +full on it way to the plague-pit. The driver stopped at his call, and +instantly followed him up stairs, and into the room. Glancing at the +body with the utmost sang-froid, he touched the dress, and indifferently +remarked: + +“A bride, I should say; and an uncommonly handsome one too. We'll just +take her along as she is, and strip these nice things off the body when +we get it to the plague-pit.” + +So saying, he wrapped her in the sheet, and directing Ormiston to take +hold of the two lower ends, took the upper corners himself, with the +air of a man quite used to that sort of thing. Ormiston recoiled from +touching it; and Sir Norman seeing what they were about to do, and +knowing there was no help for it, made up his mind, like a sensible +young man as he was, to conceal his feelings, and caught hold of the +sheet himself. In this fashion the dead bride was carried down stairs, +and laid upon a shutter on the top of a pile of bodies in the dead-cart. + +It was now almost dark, and as the cart started, the great clock of St. +Paul's struck eight. St. Michael's, St Alban's, and the others took up +the sound; and the two young men paused to listen. For many weeks the +sky had been clear, brilliant, and blue; but on this night dark clouds +were scudding in wild unrest across it, and the air was oppressingly +close and sultry. + +“Where are you going now?” said Ormiston. “Are you for Whitehall's to +night?” + +“No!” said Sir Norman, rather dejectedly, turning to follow the +pest-cart. “I am for the plague-pit in Finsbury fields!” + +“Nonsense, man!” exclaimed Ormiston, energetically, “what will take you +there? You surely are not mad enough to follow the body of that dead +girl?” + +“I shall follow it! You can come or not, just as you please.” + +“Oh! if you are determined, I will go with you, of course; but it is the +craziest freak I ever heard of. After this, you need never laugh at me.” + +“I never will,” said Sir Norman, moodily; “for if you love a face you +have never seen, I love one I have only looked on when dead. Does it +not seem sacrilege to throw any one so like an angel into that horrible +plague-pit?” + +“I never saw an angel,” said Ormiston, as he and his friend started +to go after the dead-cart. “And I dare say there have been scores as +beautiful as that poor girl thrown into the plague-pit before now. I +wonder why the house has been deserted, and if she was really a bride. +The bridegroom could not have loved her much, I fancy, or not even the +pestilence could have scared him away.” + +“But, Ormiston, what an extraordinary thing it is that it should be +precisely the same face that the fortune-teller showed me. There she +was alive, and here she is dead; so I've lost all faith in La Masque for +ever.” + +Ormiston looked doubtful. + +“Are you quite sure it is the same, Kingsley?” + +“Quite sure?” said Sir Norman, indignantly. “Of course I am! Do you +think I could be mistaken is such a case? I tell you I would know that +face at Kamschatka or, the North Pole; for I don't believe there ever +was such another created.” + +“So be it, then! Your object, of course, in following that cart is, to +take a last look at her?” + +“Precisely so. Don't talk; I feel in no mood for it just at present.” + +Ormiston smiled to himself, and did not talk, accordingly; and in +silence the two friends followed the gloomy dead-cart. A faint young +moon, pale and sickly, was struggling dimly through drifts of dark +clouds, and lighted the lonesome, dreary streets with a wan, watery +glimmer. For weeks, the weather had been brilliantly fine--the days all +sunshine, the nights all moonlight; but now Ormiston, looking up at the +troubled face of the sky, concluded mentally that the Lord Mayor had +selected an unpropitious night for the grand illumination. Sir Norman, +with his eyes on the pest-cart, and the long white figure therein, took +no heed of anything in the heaven above or in the earth beneath, +and strode along in dismal silence till they reached, at last, their +journey's end. + +As the cart stopped the two young men approached the edge of the +plague-pit, and looked in with a shudder. Truly it was a horrible sight, +that heaving, putrid sea of corruption; for the bodies of the miserable +victims were thrown in in cartfuls, and only covered with a handful of +earth and quicklime. Here and there, through the cracking and sinking +surface, could be seen protruding a fair white arm, or a baby face, +mingled with the long, dark tresses of maidens, the golden curls of +children, and the white hairs of old age. The pestilential effluvia +arising from the dreadful mass was so overpowering that both shrank +back, faint and sick, after a moment's survey. It was indeed as Sir +Norman had, said, a horrible grave wherein to lie. + +Meantime the driver, with an eye to business, and no time for such +nonsense as melancholy moralizing, had laid the body of the young girl +on the ground, and briskly turned his cart and dumped the remainder of +his load into the pit. Then, having flung a few handfuls of clay over +it, he unwound the sheet, and kneeling beside the body, prepared to +remove the jewels. The rays of the moon and his dark lantern fell on the +lovely, snow-white face together, and Sir Norman groaned despairingly as +he saw its death-cold rigidity. The man had stripped the rings off the +fingers, the bracelets off the arms; but as he was about to perform +the same operation toward the necklace, he was stopped by a startling +interruption enough. In his haste, the clasp entered the beautiful neck, +inflicting a deep scratch, from which the blood spouted; and at the same +instant the dead girl opened her eyes with a shrill cry. Uttering a yell +of terror, as well he might, the man sprang back and gazed at her with +horror, believing that his sacrilegious robbery had brought the dead +to life. Even the two young men--albeit, neither of them given to +nervousness nor cowardice--recoiled for an instant, and stared aghast. +Then, as the whole truth struck them, that the girl had been in a deep +swoon and not dead, both simultaneously darted forward, and forgetting +all fear of infection, knelt by her side. A pair of great, lustrous +black eyes were staring wildly around, and fixed themselves first on one +face and then on the other. + +“Where am I?” she exclaimed, with a terrified look, as she strove to +raise herself on her elbow, and fell instantaneously back with a cry +of agony, as she felt for the first time the throbbing anguish of the +wound. + +“You are with friends, dear lady!” said Sir Norman, in a voice quite +tremulous between astonishment and delight. “Fear nothing, for you shall +be saved.” + +The great black eyes turned wildly upon him, while a fierce spasm +convulsed the beautiful face. + +“O, my God, I remember! I have the plague!” And, with a prolonged shriek +of anguish, that thrilled even to the hardened heart of the dead-cart +driver, the girl fell back senseless again. Sir Norman Kingsley +sprang to his feet, and with more the air of a frantic lunatic than a +responsible young English knight, caught the cold form in his arms, laid +it in the dead-cart, and was about springing into the driver's seat, +when that individual indignantly interposed. + +“Come, now; none of that! If you were the king himself, you shouldn't +run away with my cart in that fashion; so you just get out of my place +as fast as you can!” + +“My dear Kingsley, what are you about to do?” asked Ormiston, catching +his excited friend by the arm. + +“Do!” exclaimed Sir Norman, in a high key. “Can't you see that for +yourself! And I'm going to have that girl cured of the plague, if there +is such a thing as a doctor to be had for love or money in London.” + +“You had better have her taken to the pest house at once, then; there +are chirurgeons and nurses enough there.” + +“To the pest-house! Why man, I might as well have her thrown into the +plague-pit there, at once! Not I! I shall have her taken to my own +house, and there properly cared for, and this good fellow will drive her +there instantly.” + +Sir Norman backed this insinuation by putting a broad gold-piece into +the driver's hand, which instantly produced a magical effect on his +rather surly countenance. + +“Certainly, sir,” he began, springing into his seat with alacrity. +“Where shall I drive the young lady to?” + +“Follow me,” said Sir Norman. “Come along, Ormiston.” And seizing +his friend by the arm, he hurried along with a velocity rather +uncomfortable, considering they both wore cloaks, and the night was +excessively sultry. The gloomy vehicle and its fainting burden followed +close behind. + +“What do you mean to do with her?” asked Ormiston, as soon as he found +breath enough to speak. + +“Haven't I told you?” said Sir Norman, impatiently. “Take her home, of +course.” + +“And after that?” + +“Go for a doctor.” + +“And after that?” + +“Take care of her till she gets well.” + +“And after that?” + +“Why--find out her history, and all about her.” + +“And after that?” + +“After that! After that! How do I know what after that!” exclaimed Sir +Norman, rather fiercely. “Ormiston, what do you mean?” + +Ormiston laughed. + +“And after that you'll marry her, I suppose!” + +“Perhaps I may, if she will have me. And what if I do?” + +“Oh, nothing! Only it struck me you may be saving another man's wife.” + +“That's true!” said Sir Norman, in a subdued tone, “and if such should +unhappily be the case, nothing will remain but to live in hopes that he +may be carried off by the plague.” + +“Pray Heaven that we may not be carried off by it ourselves!” said +Ormiston, with a slight shudder. “I shall dream of nothing but that +horrible plague-pit for a week. If it were not for La Masque, I would +not stay another hour in this pest-stricken city.” + +“Here we are,” was Sir Norman's rather inapposite answer, as they +entered Piccadilly, and stopped before a large and handsome house, whose +gloomy portal was faintly illuminated by a large lamp. “Here, my man +just carry the lady in.” + +He unlocked the door as he spoke, and led the way across a long hall to +a sleeping chamber, elegantly fitter up. The man placed the body on the +bed and departed while Sir Norman, seizing a handbell, rang a peal that +brought a staid-looking housekeeper to the scene directly. Seeing a +lady, young and beautiful, in bride robes, lying apparently dead on her +young master's bed at that hour of the night, the discreet matron, over +whose virtuous head fifty years and a snow-white cap had passed, started +back with a slight scream. + +“Gracious me, Sir Norman! What on earth is the meaning of this?” + +“My dear Mrs. Preston,” began Sir Norman blandly, “this young lady is +ill of the plague, and--” + +But all further explanation was cut short by a horrified shriek from the +old lady, and a precipitate rush from the room. Down stairs she flew, +informing the other servants as she went, between her screams, and when +Sir Norman, in a violent rage, went in search of her five minutes after, +he found not only the kitchen, but the whole house deserted. + +“Well,” said Ormiston, as Sir Norman strode back, looking fiery hot and +savagely angry. + +“Well, they have all fled, every man and woman of them, the--” Sir +Norman ground out something not quite proper, behind his moustache. “I +shall have to go for the doctor, myself. Doctor Forbes is a friend of +mine, and lives near; and you,” looking at him rather doubtfully, “would +you mind staying here, lest she should recover consciousness before I +return?” + +“To tell you the truth,” said Ormiston, with charming frankness, “I +should! The lady is extremely beautiful, I must own; but she looks +uncomfortably corpse-like at this present moment. I do not wish to die +of the plague, either, until I see La Masque once more; and so if it is +all the same to you, my dear friend, I will have the greatest pleasure +in stepping round with you to the doctor's.” + +Sir Norman, though he did not much approve of this, could not very well +object, and the two sallied forth together. Walking a short distance +up Piccadilly, they struck off into a bye street, and soon reached the +house they were in search of. Sir Norman knocked loudly at the door, +which was opened by the doctor himself. Briefly and rapidly Sir Norman +informed him how and where his services were required; and the doctor +being always provided with everything necessary for such cases, set out +with him immediately. Fifteen minutes after leaving his own house, Sir +Norman was back there again, and standing in his own chamber. But a +simultaneous exclamation of amazement and consternation broke from him +and Ormiston, as on entering the room they found the bed empty, and the +lady gone! + +A dead pause followed, during which the three looked blankly at the bed, +and then at each other. The scene, no doubt, would have been ludicrous +enough to a third party; but neither of our trio could saw anything +whatever to laugh at. Ormiston was the first to speak. + +“What in Heaven's name has happened!” he wonderingly exclaimed. + +“Some one has been here,” said Sir Norman, turning very pale, “and +carried her off while we were gone.” + +“Let us search the house,” said the doctor; “you should have locked your +door, Sir Norman; but it may not be too late yet.” + +Acting on the hint, Sir Norman seized the lamp burning on the table, and +started on the search. His two friends followed him, and + + + “The highest, the lowest, the loveliest spot, + They searched for the lady, and found her not.” + +No, though there was not the slightest trace of robbers or intruders, +neither was there the slightest trace of the beautiful plague-patient. +Everything in the house was precisely as it always was, but the silver +shining vision was gone. + + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE COURT PAGE + +The search was given over at last in despair, and the doctor took his +hat and disappeared. Sir Norman and Ormiston stopped in the lower hall +and looked at each other in mute amaze. + +“What can it all mean?” asked Ormiston, appealing more to society at +large than to his bewildered companion. + +“I haven't the faintest idea,” said Sir Norman, distractedly; “only I am +pretty certain, if I don't find her, I shall do something so desperate +that the plague will be a trifle compared to it!” + +“It seems almost impossible that she can have been carried off--doesn't +it?” + +“If she has!” exclaimed Sir Norman, “and I find out the abductor, he +won't have a whole bone in his body two minutes after!” + +“And yet more impossible that she can have gone off herself,” pursued +Ormiston with the air of one entering upon an abstruse subject, and +taking no heed whatever of his companion's marginal notes. + +“Gone off herself! Is the man crazy?” inquired Sir Norman, with a stare. +“Fifteen minutes before we left her dead, or in a dead swoon, which is +all the same in Greek, and yet he talks of her getting up and going off +herself!” + +“In fact, the only way to get at the bottom of the mystery,” said +Ormiston, “is to go in search of her. Sleeping, I suppose, is out of the +question.” + +“Of course it is! I shall never sleep again till I find her!” + +They passed out, and Sir Norman this time took the precaution of turning +the key, thereby fulfilling the adage of locking the stable-door when +the steed was stolen. The night had grown darker and hotter; and as they +walked along, the clock of St. Paul's tolled nine. + +“And now, where shall we go?” inquired Sir Norman, as they rapidly +hurried on. + +“I should recommend visiting the house we found her first; if not there, +then we can try the pest-house.” + +Sir Norman shuddered. + +“Heaven forefend she should be there! It is the most mysterious thing +ever I heard of!” + +“What do you think now of La Masque's prediction--dare you doubt still?” + +“Ormiston, I don't know what to think. It is the same face I saw, and +yet--” + +“Well--and yet--” + +“I can't tell you--I am fairly bewildered. If we don't find the lady at +her own house, I have half a mind to apply to your friend, La Masque, +again.” + +“The wisest thing you could do, my dear fellow. If any one knows your +unfortunate beloved's whereabouts, it is La Masque, depend upon it.” + +“That's settled then; and now, don't talk, for conversation at this +smart pace I don't admire.” + +Ormiston, like the amiable, obedient young man that he was, instantly +held his tongue, and they strode along at a breathless pace. There was +an unusual concourse of men abroad that night, watching the gloomy face +of the sky, and waiting the hour of midnight to kindle the myriad of +fires; and as the two tall, dark figures went rapidly by, all supposed +it to be a case of life or death. In the eyes of one of the party, +perhaps it was; and neither halted till they came once more in sight +of the house, whence a short time previously they had carried the +death-cold bride. A row of lamps over the door-portals shed a yellow, +uncertain light around, while the lights of barges and wherries were +sown like stars along the river. + +“There is the house,” cried Ormiston, and both paused to take breath; +“and I am about at the last gasp. I wonder if your pretty mistress would +feel grateful if she knew what I have come through to-night for her +sweet sake?” + +“There are no lights,” said Sir Norman, glancing anxiously up at the +darkened front of the house; “even the link before the door is unlit. +Surely she cannot be there.” + +“That remains to be seen, though I'm very doubtful about it myself. Ah! +whom have we here?” + +The door of the house in question opened, as he spoke, and a figure--a +man's figure, wearing a slouched hat and long, dark cloak, came slowly +out. He stopped before the house and looked at it long and earnestly; +and, by the twinkling light of the lamps, the friends saw enough of him +to know he was young and distinguished looking. + +“I should not wonder in the least if that were the bridegroom,” + whispered Ormiston, maliciously. + +Sir Norman turned pale with jealousy, and laid his hand on his sword, +with a quick and natural impulse to make the bride a widow forthwith. +But he checked the desire for an instant as the brigandish-looking +gentleman, after a prolonged stare at the premises, stepped up to the +watchman, who had given them their information an hour or two before, +and who was still at his post. The friends could not be seen, but they +could hear, and they did so very earnestly indeed. + +“Can you tell me, my friend,” began the cloaked unknown, “what has +become of the people residing in yonder house?” + +The watchman, held his lamp up to the face of the interlocutor--a +handsome face by the way, what could be seen of it--and indulged himself +in a prolonged survey. + +“Well!” said the gentleman, impatiently, “have you no tongue, fellow? +Where are they, I say?” + +“Blessed if I know,” said the watchman. “I, wasn't set here to keep +guard over them was I? It looks like it, though,” said the man in +parenthesis; “for this makes twice to-night I've been asked questions +about it.” + +“Ah!” said the gentleman, with a slight start. “Who asked you before, +pray?” + +“Two young gentlemen; lords, I expect, by their dress. Somebody ran +screaming out of the house, and they wanted to know what was wrong.” + +“Well?” said the stranger, breathlessly, “and then?” + +“And then, as I couldn't tell them they went in to see for themselves, +and shortly after came out with a body wrapped in a sheet, which they +put in a pest-cart going by, and had it buried, I suppose, with the rest +in the plague-pit.” + +The stranger fairly staggered back, and caught at a pillar near for +support. For nearly ten minutes, he stood perfectly motionless, and +then, without a word, started up and walked rapidly away. The friends +looked after him curiously till he was out of sight. + +“So she is not there,” said Ormiston; “and our mysterious friend in +the cloak is as much at a loss as we are ourselves. Where shall we go +next--to La Masque or the peat-house?” + +“To La Masque--I hate the idea of the pest-house!” + +“She may be there, nevertheless; and under present circumstances, it is +the best place for her.” + +“Don't talk of it!” said Sir Norman, impatiently. “I do not and will not +believe she is there! If the sorceress shows her to me in the caldron +again, I verily believe I shall jump in head foremost.” + +“And I verily believe we will not find La Masque at home. She wanders +through the streets at all hours, but particularly affects the night.” + +“We shall try, however. Come along!” + +The house of the sorceress was but a short distance from that of +Sir Norman's plague-stricken lady-love's; and shod with a sort of +seven-league boots, they soon reached it. Like the other, it was all +dark and deserted. + +“This is the home,” said Ormiston, looking at it doubtfully, “but where +is La Masque?” + +“Here!” said a silvery voice at his elbow; and turning round, they saw +a tall, slender figure, cloaked, hooded, and masked. “Surely, you two do +not want me again to-night?” + +Both gentlemen doffed their plumed hats, and simultaneously bowed. + +“Fortune favors us,” said Sir Norman. “Yes, madam, it is even so; once +again to-night we would tax your skill.” + +“Well, what do you wish to know?” + +“Madam, we are in the street.” + +“Sir, I'm aware of that. Pray proceed.” + +“Will you not have the goodness to permit us to enter?” said Sir Norman, +inclined to feel offended. “How can you tell us what we wish to know, +here?” + +“That is my secret,” said the sweet voice. “Probably Sir Norman Kingsley +wishes to know something of the fair lady I showed him some time ago?” + +“Madam, you've guessed it. It is for that purpose I have sought you +now.” + +“Then you have seen her already?” + +“I have.” + +“And love her?” + +“With all my heart!” + +“A rapid flame,” said the musical voice, in a tone that had just a +thought of sarcasm; “for one of whose very existence you did not dream +two hours ago.” + +“Madame La Masque,” said Norman, flushed sad haughty, “love is not a +question of time.” + +“Sir Norman Kingsley,” said the lady, somewhat sadly, “I am aware of +that. Tell me what you wish to know, and if it be in my power, you shall +know it.” + +“A thousand thanks! Tell me, then, is she whom I seek living or dead?” + +“She is alive.” + +“She has the plague?” said Sir Norman. + +“I know it.” + +“Will she recover?” + +“She will.” + +“Where is she now?” + +La Masque hesitated and seemed uncertain whether or not to reply, Sir +Norman passionately broke in: + +“Tell me, madam, for I must know!” + +“Then you shall; but, remember, if you get into danger, you must not +blame me.” + +“Blame you! No, I think I would hardly do that. Where am I to seek for +her?” + +“Two miles from London beyond Newgate,” said the mask. “There stand the +ruins of what was long ago a hunting-lodge, now a crumbling skeleton, +roofless and windowless, and said, by rumor, to be haunted. Perhaps you +have seen or heard of it?” + +“I have seen it a hundred times,” broke in Sir Norman. “Surely, you do +not mean to say she is there?” + +“Go there, and you will see. Go there to-night, and lose no time--that +is, supposing you can procure a license.” + +“I have one already. I have a pass from the Lord Mayor to come and go +from the city when I please.” + +“Good! Then you'll go to-night.” + +“I will go. I might as well do that as anything else, I suppose; but it +is quite impossible,” said Sir Norman, firmly, not to say obstinately, +“that she can be there.” + +“Very well you'll see. You had better go on horseback, if you desire to +be back in time to witness the illumination.” + +“I don't particularly desire to see the illumination, as I know of; but +I will ride, nevertheless. What am I to do when I get there?” + +“You will enter the ruins, and go on till you discover a spiral +staircase leading to what was once the vaults. The flags of these vaults +are loose from age, and if you should desire to remove any of them, you +will probably not find it an impossibility.” + +“Why should I desire to remove them?” asked Sir Norman, who felt +dubious, and disappointed, and inclined to be dogmatical. + +“Why, you may see a glimmering of light--hear strange noises; and if +you remove the stones, may possibly see strange sights. As I told you +before, it is rumored to be haunted, which is true enough, though not in +the way they suspect; and so the fools and the common herd stay away.” + +“And if I am discovered peeping like a rascally valet, what will be the +consequences?” + +“Very unpleasant ones to you; but you need not be discovered if you take +care. Ah! Look there!” + +She pointed to the river, and both her companions looked. A barge gayly +painted and gilded, with a light in prow and stern, came gliding up +among less pretentious craft, and stopped at the foot of a flight of +stairs leading to the bridge. It contained four persons--the oarsman, +two cavaliers sitting in the stern, and a lad in the rich livery of a +court-page in the act of springing out. Nothing very wonderful in all +this; and Sir Norman and Ormiston looked at her for an explanation. + +“Do you know those two gentlemen?” she asked. + +“Certainly,” replied Sir Norman, promptly; “one is the Duke of York, the +other the Earl of Rochester.” + +“And that page, to which of them does he belong?” + +“The page!” said Sir Norman, with a stare, as he leaned forward to look; +“pray, madam, what has the page to do with it?” + +“Look and see!” + +The two peers has ascended the stairs, and were already on the bridge. +The page loitered behind, talking, as it seemed, to the waterman. + +“He wears the livery of the Earl of Rochester,” said Ormiston, speaking +for the first time, “but I cannot see his face.” + +“He will follow presently, and be sure you see it then! Possibly you may +not find it entirely new to you.” + +She drew back into the shadow as she spoke; and the two nobles, as they +advanced, talking earnestly, beheld Sir Norman and Ormiston. Both raised +their hats with a look of recognition, and the salute was courteously +returned by the others. + +“Good-night, gentlemen,” said Lord Rochester; “a hot evening, is it not? +Have you come here to witness the illumination?” + +“Hardly,” said Sir Norman; “we have come for a very different purpose, +my lord.” + +“The fires will have one good effect,” said Ormiston laughing; “if they +clear the air and drive away this stifling atmosphere.” + +“Pray God they drive away the plague!” said the Duke of York, as he and +his companion passed from view. + +The page sprang up the stairs after them, humming as he came, one of his +master's love ditties--songs, saith tradition, savoring anything but +the odor of sanctity. With the warning of La Masque fresh in their mind, +both looked at him earnestly. His gay livery was that of Lord Rochester, +and became his graceful figure well, as he marched along with a jaunty +swagger, one hand on his aide, and the other toying with a beautiful +little spaniel, that frisked in open violation of the Lord Mayor's +orders, commanding all dogs, great and small, to be put to death as +propagators of the pestilence. In passing, the lad turned his face +toward them for a moment--a bright, saucy, handsome face it was--and the +next instant he went round an angle and disappeared. Ormiston suppressed +an oath. Sir Norman stifled a cry of amazement--for both recognized +that beautiful colorless face, those perfect features, and great, black, +lustrous eyes. It was the face of the lady they had saved from the +plague-pit! + +“Am I sane or mad?” inquired Sir Norman, looking helplessly about him +for information. “Surely that is she we are in search of.” + +“It certainly is!” said Ormiston. “Where are the wonders of this night +to end?” + +“Satan and La Masque only know; for they both seem to have united to +drive me mad. Where is she?” + +“Where, indeed?” said Ormiston; “where is last year's snow?” And Sir +Norman, looking round at the spot where she had stood a moment before, +found that she, too, had disappeared. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE STRANGER. + +The two friends looked at each other in impressive silence for a moment, +and spake never a word. Not that they were astonished--they were long +past the power of that emotion: and if a cloud had dropped from the +sky at their feet, they would probably have looked at it passively, and +vaguely wonder if the rest would follow. Sir Norman, especially, had +sank into a state of mind that words are faint and feeble to describe. +Ormiston, not being quite so far gone, was the first to open his lips. + +“Upon my honor, Sir Norman, this is the most astonishing thing ever I +heard of. That certainly was the face of our half-dead bride! What, in +the name of all the gods, can it mean, I wonder?” + +“I have given up wondering,” said Sir Norman, in the same helpless tone. +“And if the earth was to open and swallow London up, I should not be the +least surprised. One thing is certain: the lady we are seeking and that +page are one and the same.” + +“And yet La Masque told you she was two miles from the city, in the +haunted ruin; and La Masque most assuredly knows.” + +“I have no doubt she is there. I shall not be the least astonished if I +find her in every street between this and Newgate.” + +“Really, it is a most singular affair! First you see her in the magic +caldron; then we find her dead; then, when within an ace of being +buried, she comes to life; then we leave her lifeless as a marble +statue, shut up in your room, and fifteen minutes after, she vanishes as +mysteriously as a fairy in a nursery legend. And, lastly, she turns up +in the shape of a court-page, and swaggers along London Bridge at this +hour of the night, chanting a love song. Faith! it would puzzle the +sphinx herself to read this riddle, I've a notion!” + +“I, for one, shall never try to read it,” said Sir Norman. “I am about +tired of this labyrinth of mysteries, and shall save time and La Masque +to unravel them at their leisure.” + +“Then you mean to give up the pursuit?” + +“Not exactly. I love this mysterious beauty too well to do that; and +when next I find her, be it where it may, I shall take care she does not +slip so easily through my fingers.” + +“I cannot forget that page,” said Ormiston, musingly. “It is singular +since, he wears the Earl of Rochester's livery, that we have never seen +him before among his followers. Are you quite sure, Sir Norman, that you +have not?” + +“Seen him? Don't be absurd, Ormiston! Do you think I could ever forget +such a face as that?” + +“It would not be easy, I confess. One does not see such every day. And +yet--and yet--it is most extraordinary!” + +“I shall ask Rochester about him the first thing to-morrow; and unless +he is an optical illusion--which I vow I half believe is the case--I +will come at the truth in spite of your demoniac friend, La Masque!” + +“Then you do not mean to look for him to-night?” + +“Look for him? I might as well look for a needle in a haystack. No! I +have promised La Masque to visit the old ruins, and there I shall go +forthwith. Will you accompany me?” + +“I think not. I have a word to say to La Masque, and you and she kept +talking so busily, I had no chance to put it in.” + +Sir Norman laughed. + +“Besides, I have no doubt it is a word you would not like to utter in +the presence of a third party, even though that third party be +your friend and Pythias, Kingsley. Do you mean to stay here like a +plague-sentinel until she returns?” + +“Possibly; or if I get tired I may set out in search of her. When do you +return?” + +“The Fates, that seem to make a foot-ball of my best affections, and +kick them as they please, only know. If nothing happens--which, being +interpreted, means, if I am still in the land of the living--I shall +surely be back by daybreak.” + +“And I shall be anxious about that time to hear the result of your +night's adventure; so where shall we meet?” + +“Why not here? it is as good a place as any.” + +“With all my heart. Where do you propose getting a horse?” + +“At the King's Arms--but a stones throw from here. Farewell.” + +“Good-night, and God speed you!” said Ormiston. And wrapping his cloak +close about him, he leaned against the doorway, and, watching the +dancing lights on the river, prepared to await the return of La Masque. + +With his head full of the adventures and misadventures of the night, Sir +Norman walked thoughtfully on until he reached the King's Arms--a low +inn on the bank of the river. To his dismay he found the house shut up, +and bearing the dismal mark and inscription of the pestilence. While +he stood contemplating it in perplexity, a watchman, on guard before +another plague-stricken house, advanced and informed him that the whole +family had perished of the disease, and that the landlord himself, the +last survivor, had been carried off not twenty minutes before to the +plague-pit. + +“But,” added the man, seeing Sir Norman's look of annoyance, and being +informed what he wanted, “there are two or three horses around there +in the stable, and you may as well help yourself, for if you don't take +them, somebody else will.” + +This philosophic logic struck Sir Norman as being so extremely +reasonable, that without more ado he stepped round to the stables and +selected the best it contained. Before proceeding on his journey, it +occurred to him that, having been handling a plague-patient, it would +be a good thing to get his clothes fumigated; so he stepped into an +apothecary's store for that purpose, and provided himself also with +a bottle of aromatic vinegar. Thus prepared for the worst, Sir Norman +sprang on his horse like a second Don Quixote striding his good steed +Rozinante, and sallied forth in quest of adventures. These, for a short +time, were of rather a dismal character; for, hearing the noise of +a horse's hoofs in the silent streets at that hour of the night, the +people opened their doors as he passed by, thinking it the pest-cart, +and brought forth many a miserable victim of the pestilence. Averting +his head from the revolting spectacles, Sir Norman held the bottle of +vinegar to his nostrils, and rode rapidly till he reached Newgate. There +he was stopped until his bill of health was examined, and that small +manuscript being found all right, he was permitted to pass on in peace. +Everywhere he went, the trail of the serpent was visible over all. Death +and Desolation went hand in hand. Outside as well as inside the gates, +great piles of wood and coal were arranged, waiting only the midnight +hour to be fired. Here, however, no one seemed to be stirring; and no +sound broke the silence but the distant rumble of the death-cart, and +the ringing of the driver's bell. There were lights in some of the +houses, but many of them were dark and deserted, and nearly every one +bore the red cross of the plague. + +It was a gloomy scene and hour, and Sir Norman's heart turned sick +within him as he noticed the ruin and devastation the pestilence had +everywhere wrought. And he remembered, with a shudder, the prediction +of Lilly, the astrologer, that the paved streets of London would be like +green fields, and the living be no longer able to bury the dead. Long +before this, he had grown hardened and accustomed to death from its very +frequence; but now, as he looked round him, he almost resolved to ride +on and return no more to London till the plague should have left it. +But then came the thought of his unknown lady-love, and with it the +reflection that he was on his way to find her; and, rousing himself +from his melancholy reverie, he rode on at a brisker pace, heroically +resolved to brave the plague or any other emergency, for her sake. Full +of this laudable and lover-like resolution, he had got on about half +a mile further, when he was suddenly checked in his rapid career by an +exciting, but in no way surprising, little incident. + +During the last few yards, Sir Norman had come within sight of another +horseman, riding on at rather a leisurely pace, considering the place +and the hour. Suddenly three other horsemen came galloping down upon +him, and the leader presenting a pistol at his head, requested him in +a stentorial voice for his money or his life. By way of reply, the +stranger instantly produced a pistol of his own, and before the +astonished highwayman could comprehend the possibility of such an act, +discharged it full in his face. With a loud yell the robber reeled and +fell from his saddle, and in a twinkling both his companions fired their +pistols at the traveler, and bore, with a simultaneous cry of rage, down +upon him. Neither of the shots had taken effect, but the two enraged +highwaymen would have made short work of their victim had not Sir +Norman, like a true knight, ridden to the rescue. Drawing his sword, +with one vigorous blow he placed another of the assassins hors de +combat; and, delighted with the idea of a fight to stir his stagnant +blood, was turning (like a second St. George at the Dragon), upon the +other, when that individual, thinking discretion the better part of +valor, instantaneously turned tail and fled. The whole brisk little +episode had not occupied five minutes, and Sir Norman was scarcely aware +the fight had began before it had triumphantly ended. + +“Short, sharp, and decisive!” was the stranger's cool criticism, as he +deliberately wiped his blood-stained sword, and placed it in a velvet +scabbard. “Our friends, there, got more than they bargained for, I +fancy. Though, but for you, Sir,” he said, politely raising his hat and +bowing, “I should probably have been ere this in heaven, or--the other +place.” + +Sir Norman, deeply edified by the easy sang-froid of the speaker, turned +to take a second look at him. There was very little light; for the night +had grown darker as it wore on, and the few stars that had glimmered +faintly had hid their diminished heads behind the piles of inky clouds. +Still, there was a sort of faint phosphorescent light whitening the +gloom, and by it Sir Norman's keen bright eyes discovered that he wore +a long dark cloak and slouched hat. He discovered something else, +too--that he had seen that hat and cloak, and the man inside of them on +London Bridge, not an hour before. It struck Sir Norman there was a sort +of fatality in their meeting; and his pulses quickened a trifle, as he +thought that he might be speaking to the husband of the lady for whom +he had so suddenly conceived such a rash and inordinate attachment. That +personage meantime having reloaded his pistol, with a self-possession +refreshing to witness, replaced it in his doublet, gathered up the +reins, and, glancing slightly at his companion, spoke again, + +“I should thank you for saving my life, I suppose, but thanking people +is so little in my line, that I scarcely know how to set about it. +Perhaps, my dear sir, you will take the will for the deed.” + +“An original, this,” thought Sir Norman, “whoever he is.” Then aloud: +“Pray don't trouble yourself about thanks, sir, I should have dome +precisely the same for the highwaymen, had you been three to one over +them.” + +“I don't doubt it in the least; nevertheless I feel grateful, for you +have saved my life all the same, and you have never seen me before.” + +“There you are mistaken,” said Sir Norman, quietly “I had the pleasure +of seeing you scarce an hour ago.” + +“Ah!” said the stranger, in an altered tone, “and where?” + +“On London Bridge.” + +“I did not see you.” + +“Very likely, but I was there none the less.” + +“Do you know me?” said the stranger; and Sir Norman could see he was +gazing at him sharply from under the shadow of his slouched hat. + +“I have not that honor, but I hope to do so before we part.” + +“It was quite dark when you saw me on the bridge--how comes it, then, +that you recollect me so well?” + +“I have always been blessed with an excellent memory,” said Sir Norman +carelessly, “and I knew your dress, face, and voice instantly.” + +“My voice! Then you heard me speak, probably to the watchman guarding a +plague-stricken house?” + +“Exactly! and the subject being a very interesting one, I listened to +all you said.” + +“Indeed! and what possible interest could the subject have for you, may +I ask?” + +“A deeper one than you think!” said Sir Norman, with a slight tremor in +his voice as he thought of the lady, “the watchman told you the lady you +sought for had been carried away dead, and thrown into the plague-pit!” + +“Well,” cried the stranger starting violently, “and was it not true?” + +“Only partly. She was carried away in the pest-cart sure enough, but she +was not thrown into the plague-pit!” + +“And why?” + +“Because, when on reaching that horrible spot, she was found to be +alive!” + +“Good Heaven! And what then?” + +“Then,” exclaimed Sir Norman, in a tone almost as excited as his own, +“she was brought to the house of a friend, and left alone for a few +minutes, while that friend went in search of a doctor. On returning they +found her--where do you think?” + +“Where?” + +“Gone!” said Sir Norman emphatically, “spirited away by some mysterious +agency; for she was dying of the plague, and could not possibly stir +hand or foot herself.” + +“Dying of the plague, O Leoline!” said the stranger, in a voice full of +pity and horror, while for a moment he covered his face with his hands. + +“So her name is Leoline?” said Sir Norman to himself. “I have found +that out, and also that this gentleman, whatever he may be to her, is as +ignorant of her whereabouts as I am myself. He seems in trouble, too. I +wonder if he really happens to be her husband?” + +The stranger suddenly lifted his head and favored Sir Norman with a long +and searching look. + +“How come you to know all this, Sir Norman Kingsley,” he asked abruptly. + +“And how come you to know my name?” demanded Sir Norman, very much +amazed, notwithstanding his assertion that nothing would astonish him +more. + +“That is of no consequence! Tell me how you've learned all this?” + repeated the stranger, in a tone of almost stern authority. + +Sir Norman started and stared. That voice! I have had heard it a +thousand times! It had evidently been disguised before; but now, in the +excitement of the moment, the stranger was thrown off his guard, and it +became perfectly familiar. But where had he heard it? For the life of +him, Sir Norman could not tell, yet it was as well known to him as +his own. It had the tone, too, of one far more used to command than +entreaty; and Sir Norman, instead of getting angry, as he felt he ought +to have done, mechanically answered: + +“The watchman told you of the two young men who brought her out and laid +her in the dead-cart--I was one of the two.” + +“And who was the other?” + +“A friend of mine--one Malcolm Ormiston.” + +“Ah! I know him! Pardon my abruptness, Sir Norman,” said the stranger, +once more speaking in his assumed suave tone, “but I feel deeply on this +subject, and was excited at the moment. You spoke of her being brought +to the house of a friend--now, who may that friend be, for I was not +aware that she had any?” + +“So I judged,” said Sir Norman, rather bitterly, “or she would not have +been left to die alone of the plague. She was brought to my house, sir, +and I am the friend who would have stood by her to the last!” + +Sir Norman sat up very straight and haughty on his horse; and had it +been daylight, he would have seen a slight derisive smile pass over the +lips of his companion. + +“I have always heard that Sir Norman Kingsley was a chivalrous knight,” + he said; “but I scarcely dreamed his gallantry would have carried him +so far as to brave death by the pestilence for the sake of an unknown +lady--however beautiful. I wonder you did not carry her to the +pest-house.” + +“No doubt! Those who could desert her at such a time would probably be +capable of that or any other baseness!” + +“My good friend,” said the stranger, calmly, “your insinuation is not +over-courteous, but I can forgive it, more for the sake of what you've +done for her to-night than for myself.” + +Sir Norman's lip curled. + +“I'm obliged to you! And now, sir, as you have seen fit to question me +in this free and easy manner, will you pardon me if I take the liberty +of returning the compliment, and ask you a few in return?” + +“Certainly; pray proceed, Sir Norman,” said the stranger, blandly; “you +are at liberty to ask as many questions as you please--so am I to answer +them.” + +“I answered all yours unhesitatingly, and you owe it to me to do the +same,” said Sir Norman, somewhat haughtily. “In the first place, you +have an advantage of me which I neither understand, nor relish; so, +to place us on equal terms, will you have the goodness to tell me your +name?” + +“Most assuredly! My name,” said the stranger, with glib airiness, “is +Count L'Estrange.” + +“A name unknown to me,” said Sir Norman, with a piercing look, “and +equally unknown, I believe, at Whitehall. There is a Lord L'Estrange in +London; but you and he are certainly not one and the same.” + +“My friend does not believe me,” said the count, almost gayly--“a +circumstance I regret, but cannot help. Is there anything else Sir +Norman wishes to know?” + +“If you do not answer my questions truthfully, there is little use in +my asking them,” said Sir Norman, bluntly. “Do you mean to say you are a +foreigner?” + +“Sir Norman Kingsley is at perfect liberty to answer that question as he +pleases,” replied the stranger, with most provoking indifference. + +Sir Norman's eye flashed, and his hand fell on his sword; but, +reflecting that the count might find it inconvenient to answer any more +questions if he ran him through, he restrained himself and went on. + +“Sir, you are impertinent, but that is of no consequence, just now. Who +was that lady--what was her name?” + +“Leoline.” + +“Was she your wife?” + +The stranger paused for a moment, as if reflecting whether she was or +not, and then said, meditatively, + +“No--I don't know as she was. On the whole, I am pretty sure she was +not.” + +Sir Norman felt as if a ton weight had been suddenly hoisted from the +region of his heart. + +“Was she anybody else's wife?” + +“I think not. I'm inclined to think that, except myself, she did not +know another man in London.” + +“Then why was she dressed as a bride?” inquired Sir Norman, rather +mystified. + +“Was she? My poor Leoline!” said the stranger, sadly. “Because-” + he hesitated, “because--in short, Sir Norman,” said the stranger, +decidedly, “I decline answering any more questions!” + +“I shall find out, for all that,” said Sir Norman, “and here I shall bid +you good-night, for this by-path leads to my destination.” + +“Good-night,” said the stranger, “and be careful, Sir Norman--remember, +the plague is abroad.” + +“And so are highwaymen!” called Sir Norman after him, a little +maliciously; but a careless laugh from the stranger was the only reply +as he galloped away. + + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE DWARF AND THE RUIN. + +The by-path down which Sir Norman rode, led to an inn, “The Golden +Crown,” about a quarter of a mile from the ruin. Not wishing to take +his horse, lest it should lead to discovery, he proposed leaving it here +till his return; and, with this intention, and the strong desire for a +glass of wine--for the heat and his ride made him extremely thirsty--he +dismounted at the door, and consigning the animal to the care of a +hostler, he entered the bar-room. It was not the most inviting place +in the world, this same bar-room--being illy-lighted, dim with +tobacco-smoke, and pervaded by a strong spirituous essence of stronger +drinks than malt or cold water. A number of men were loitering about, +smoking, drinking, and discussing the all-absorbing topic of the plague, +and the fires that might be kindled. There was a moment's pause, as Sir +Norman entered, took a seat, and called for a glass of sack, and then +the conversation went on as before. The landlord hastened to supply his +wants by placing a glass and a bottle of wine before him, and Sir Norman +fell to helping himself, and to ruminating deeply on the events of the +night. Rather melancholy these ruminations were, though to do the young +gentleman justice, sentimental melancholy was not at all in his line; +but then you will please to recollect he was in love, and when people +come to that state, they are no longer to be held responsible either for +their thoughts or actions. It is true his attack had been a rapid one, +but it was no less severe for that; and if any evil-minded critic is +disposed to sneer at the suddenness of his disorder, I have only to say, +that I know from observation, not to speak of experience, that love at +first sight is a lamentable fact, and no myth. + +Love is not a plant that requires time to flourish, but is quite capable +of springing up like the gourd of Jonah full grown in a moment. Our +young friend, Sir Norman, had not been aware of the existence of the +object of his affections for a much longer space than two hours and +a half, yet he had already got to such a pitch, that if he did not +speedily find her, he felt he would do something so desperate as to +shake society to its utmost foundations. The very mystery of the affair +spurred him on, and the romantic way in which she had been found, saved, +and disappeared, threw such a halo of interest round her, that he was +inclined to think sometimes she was nothing but a shining vision from +another world. Those dark, splendid eyes; that lovely marblelike face; +those wavy ebon tresses; that exquisitely exquisite figure; yes, he felt +they were all a great deal too perfect for this imperfect and wicked +world. Sir Norman was in a very bad way, beyond doubt, but no worse than +millions of young men before and after him; and he heaved a great many +profound sighs, and drank a great many glasses of sack, and came to the +sorrowful conclusion that Dame Fortune was a malicious jade, inclined to +poke fun at his best affections, and make a shuttlecock of his heart +for the rest of his life. He thought, too, of Count L'Estrange; and the +longer he thought, the more he became convinced that he knew him well, +and had met him often. But where? He racked his brain until, between +love, Leoline, and the count, he got that delicate organ into such a +maze of bewilderment and distraction, that he felt he would be a case +of congestion, shortly, if he did not give it up. That the count's +voice was not the only thing about him assumed, he was positive; and he +mentally called over the muster-roll of his past friends, who spent half +their time at Whitehall, and the other half going through the streets, +making love to the honest citizens' pretty wives and daughters; but +none of them answered to Count L'Estrange. He could scarcely be a +foreigner--he spoke English with too perfect an accent to be that; and +then he knew him, Sir Norman, as if he had been his brother. In short, +there was no use driving himself insane trying to read so unreadable +a riddle; and inwardly consigning the mysterious count to Old Nick, he +swallowed another glass of sack, and quit thinking about him. + +So absorbed had Sir Norman been in his own mournful musings, that he +paid no attention whatever to those around him, and had nearly forgotten +their very presence, when one of them, with a loud cry, sprang to +his feet, and then fell writhing to the floor. The others, in dismay, +gathered abut him, but the next instant fell back with a cry of, “He has +the plague!” At that dreaded announcement, half of them scampered off +incontinently; and the other half with the landlord at their head, +lifted the sufferer whose groans and cries were heart-rendering, and +carried him out of the house. Sir Norman, rather dismayed himself, had +risen to his feet, fully aroused from his reverie, and found himself +and another individual sole possessors of the premises. His companion he +could not very well make out; for he was sitting, or rather crouching, +in a remote and shadowy corner, where nothing was clearly visible but +the glare of a pair of fiery eyes. There was a great redundancy of hair, +too, about his head and face, indeed considerable more about the latter +than there seemed any real necessity for, and even with the imperfect +glimpse he caught of him the young man set him down in his own mind as +about as hard-looking a customer as he had ever seen. The fiery eyes +were glaring upon him like those of a tiger, through a jungle of bushy +hair, but their owner spoke never a word, though the other stared back +with compound interest. There they sat, beaming upon each other--one +fiercely, the other curiously, until the re-appearance of the landlord +with a very lugubrious and woebegone countenance. It struck Sir Norman +that it was about time to start for the ruin; and, with an eye to +business, he turned to cross-examine mine host a trifle. + +“What have they done with that man?” he asked by way of preface. + +“Sent him to the pest-house,” replied the landlord, resting his elbows +on the counter and his chin in his hands, and staring dismally at the +opposite wall. “Ah! Lord 'a' mercy on us! These be dreadful times!” + +“Dreadful enough!” said Sir Norman, sighing deeply, as he thought of +his beautiful Leoline, a victim of the merciless pestilence. “Have there +been many deaths here of the distemper?” + +“Twenty-five to-day!” groaned the man. “Lord! what will become of us?” + +“You seem rather disheartened,” said Sir Norman, pouring out a glass of +wine and handing it to him. “Just drink this, and don't borrow trouble. +They say sack is a sure specific against the plague.” + +Mine host drained the bumper, and wiped his mouth, with another hollow +groan. + +“If I thought that, sir, I'd not be sober from one week's end to +t'other; but I know well enough I will be in a plague-pit in less than a +week. O Lord! have mercy on us!” + +“Amen!” said Sir Norman, impatiently. “If fear has not taken away your +wits, my good sir, will you tell me what old ruin that is I saw a little +above here as I rode up?” + +The man started from his trance of terror, and glanced, first at the +fiery eyes in the corner, and then at Sir Norman, in evident trepidation +of the question. + +“That ruin, sir? You must be a stranger in this place, surely, or you +would not need to ask that question.” + +“Well, suppose I am a stranger? What then?” + +“Nothing, sir; only I thought everybody knew everything about that +ruin.” + +“But I do not, you see? So fill your glass again, and while you are +drinking it, just tell me what that everything comprises.” + +Again the landlord glanced fearfully at the fiery eyes in the corner, +and again hesitated. + +“Well!” exclaimed Sir Norman, at once surprised and impatient at his +taciturnity, “Can't you speak man? I want you to tell me all about it.” + +“There is nothing to tell, sir,” replied the host, goaded to +desperation. “It is an old, deserted ruin that's been here ever since I +remember; and that's all I know about it.” + +While, he spoke, the crouching shape in the corner reared itself +upright, and keeping his fiery eyes still glaring upon Sir Norman, +advanced into the light. Our young knight was in the act of raising his +glass to his lips; but as the apparition approached, he laid it down +again, untasted, and stared at it in the wildest surprise and intensest +curiosity. Truly, it was a singular-looking creature, not to say a +rather startling one. A dwarf of some four feet high, and at least five +feet broad across the shoulders, with immense arms and head--a giant in +everything but height. His immense skull was set on such a trifle of a +neck as to be scarcely worth mentioning, and was garnished by a violent +mat of coarse, black hair, which also overran the territory of his +cheeks and chin, leaving no neutral ground but his two fiery eyes and +a broken nose all twisted awry. On a pair of short, stout legs he wore +immense jack-boots, his Herculean shoulders and chest were adorned with +a leathern doublet, and in the belt round his waist were conspicuously +stuck a pair of pistols and a dagger. Altogether, a more ugly or +sinister gentleman of his inches it would have been hard to find in all +broad England. Stopping deliberately before Sir Norman, he placed a hand +on each hip, and in a deep, guttural voice, addressed him: + +“So, sir knight--for such I perceive you are--you are anxious to know +something of that old ruin yonder?” + +“Well,” said Sir Norman, so far recovering from his surprise as to be +able to speak, “suppose I am? Have you anything to say against it, my +little friend?” + +“Oh, not in the least!” said the dwarf, with a hoarse chuckle. “Only, +instead of wasting your breath asking this good man, who professes such +utter ignorance, you had better apply to me for information.” + +Again Sir Norman surveyed the little Hercules from head to foot for a +moment, in silence, as one, nowadays, would an intelligent gorilla. + +“You think so--do you? And what may you happen to know about it, my +pretty little friend?” + +“O Lord!” exclaimed the landlord, to himself, with a frightened face, +while the dwarf “grinned horribly a ghastly smile” from ear to ear. + +“So much, my good sir, that I would strongly advise you not to go near +it, unless you wish to catch something worse than the plague. There have +been others--our worthy host, there, whose teeth, you may perceive, are +chattering in his head, can tell you about those that have tried the +trick, and--” + +“Well?” said Sir Norman, curiously. + +“And have never returned to tell what they found!” concluded the little +monster, with a diabolical leer. And as the landlord fell, gray and +gasping, back in his seat, he broke out into a loud and hyena-like +laugh. + +“My dear little friend,” said Sir Norman, staring at him in displeased +wonder, “don't laugh, if you can help it. You are unprepossessing enough +at best, but when you laugh, you look like the very (a downward gesture) +himself!” + +Unheeding this advice, the dwarf broke again into an unearthly +cachinnation, that frightened the landlord nearly into fits, and +seriously discomposed the nervous system even of Sir Norman himself. +Then, grinning like a baboon, and still transfixing our puissant young +knight with the same tiger-like and unpleasant glare, he nodded a +farewell; and in this fashion, grinning, and nodding, and backing, he +got to the door, and concluding the interesting performance with a third +hoarse and hideous laugh, disappeared in the darkness. + +For fully ten minutes after he was gone, the young man kept his eyes +blankly fixed on the door, with a vague impression that he was suffering +from an attack of nightmare; for it seemed impossible that anything so +preposterously ugly as that dwarf could exist out of one. A deep groan +from the landlord, however, convinced him that it was no disagreeable +midnight vision, but a brawny reality; and turning to that individual, +he found him gasping, in the last degree of terror, behind the counter. + +“Now, who in the name of all the demons out of Hades may that ugly +abortion be?” inquired Sir Norman. + +“O Lord! be merciful! sir, it's Caliban; and the only wonder is, he did +not leave you a bleeding corpse at his feet!” + +“I should like to see him try it. Perhaps he would have found that is a +game two can play at! Where does he come from and who is he!” + +The landlord leaned over the counter, and placed a very pale and +startled face close to Sir Norman's. + +“That's just what I wanted to tell you, sir, but I was afraid to speak +before him. I think he lives up in that same old ruin you were inquiring +about--at least, he is often seen hanging around there; but people are +too much afraid of him to ask him any questions. Ah, sir, it's a strange +place, that ruin, and there be strange stories afloat about it,” said +the man, with a portentious shake of the head. + +“What are they?” inquired Sir Norman. “I should particularly like to +know.” + +“Well, sir, for one thing, some folks say it is haunted, on account of +the queer lights and noises about it, sometimes; but, again, there be +other folks, sir, that say the ghosts are alive, and that he”--nodding +toward the door--“is a sort of ringleader among them.” + +“And who are they that cut up such cantrips in the old place, pray?” + +“Lord only knows, sir. I'm sure I don't. I never go near it myself; but +there are others who have, and some of them tell of the most beautiful +lady, all in white, with long, black hair, who walks on the battlements +moonlight nights.” + +“A beautiful lady, all in white, with long, black hair! Why, that +description applies to Leoline exactly.” + +And Sir Norman gave a violent start, and arose to proceed to the place +directly. + +“Don't you go near it, sir!” said the host, warningly. “Others have +gone, as he told you, and never come back; for these be dreadful times, +and men do as they please. Between the plague and their wickedness, the +Lord only knows what will become of us!” + +“If I should return here for my horse in an hour or two, I suppose I can +get him?” sad Sir Norman, as he turned toward the door. + +“It's likely you can, sir, if I'm not dead by that time,” said the +landlord, as he sank down again, groaning dismally, with his chin +between his hands. + +The night was now profoundly dark; but Sir Norman knew the road and ruin +well, and, drawing his sword, walked resolutely on. The distance between +it and the ruin was trifling, and in less than ten minutes it loomed +up before him, a mass of deeper black in the blackness. No white vision +floated on the broken battlements this night, as Sir Norman looked +wistfully up at them; but neither was there any ungainly dwarf, with +two-edged sword, guarding the ruined entrance; and Sir Norman passed +unmolested in. He sought the spiral staircase which La Masque had +spoken of, and, passing carefully from one ancient chamber to another, +stumbling over piles of rubbish and stones as he went, he reached it at +last. Descending gingerly its tortuous steepness, he found himself in +the mouldering vaults, and, as he trod them, his ear was greeted by +the sound of faint and far-off music. Proceeding farther, he heard +distinctly, mingled with it, a murmur of voices and laughter, and, +through the chinks in the broken flags, he perceived a few faint rays +of light. Remembering the directions of La Masque, and feeling intensely +curious, he cautiously knelt down, and examined the loose flagstones +until he found one he could raise; he pushed it partly aside, and, lying +flat on the stones, with his face to the aperture, Sir Norman beheld a +most wonderful sight. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI. LA MASQUE + +“Love is like a dizziness,” says the old song. Love is something +else--it is the most selfish feeling in existence. Of course, I don't +allude to the fraternal or the friendly, or any other such nonsensical +old-fashioned trash that artless people still believe in, but to the +real genuine article that Adam felt for Eve when he first saw her, and +which all who read this--above the innocent and unsusceptible age of +twelve--have experienced. And the fancy and the reality are so much +alike, that they amount to about the same thing. The former perhaps, +may be a little short-lived; but it is just as disagreeable a sensation +while it lasts as its more enduring sister. Love is said to be +blind, and it also has a very injurious effect on the eyesight of its +victims--an effect that neither spectacles nor oculists can aid in the +slightest degree, making them see whether sleeping or waking, but one +object, and that alone. + +I don't know whether these were Mr. Malcolm or Ormiston's thoughts, as +he leaned against the door-way, and folded his arms across his chest to +await the shining of his day-star. In fact, I am pretty sure they were +not: young gentlemen, as a general thing, not being any more given to +profound moralizing in the reign of His Most Gracious Majesty, Charles +II., than they are at the present day; but I do know, that no sooner was +his bosom friend and crony, Sir Norman Kingsley, out of sight, than +he forgot him as totally as if he had never known that distinguished +individual. His many and deep afflictions, his love, his anguish, and +his provocations; his beautiful, tantalizing, and mysterious lady-love; +his errand and its probable consequences, all were forgotten; and +Ormiston thought of nothing or nobody in the world but himself and La +Masque. La Masque! La Masque! that was the theme on which his thoughts +rang, with wild variations of alternate hope and fear, like every other +lover since the world began, and love was first an institution. “As it +was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,” truly, truly it is +an odd and wonderful thing. And you and I may thank our stars, dear +readers, that we are a great deal too sensible to wear our hearts in +our sleeves for such a bloodthirsty dew to peck at. Ormiston's flame was +longer-lived than Sir Norman's; he had been in love a whole month, and +had it badly, and was now at the very crisis of a malady. Why did +she conceal her face--would she ever disclose it--would she listen to +him--would she ever love him? feverishly asked Passion; and Common Sense +(or what little of that useful commodity he had left) answered--probably +because she was eccentric--possibly she would disclose it for the same +reason; that he had only to try and make her listen; and as to her +loving him, why, Common Sense owned he had her there. + +I can't say whether the adage! “Faint heart never won fair lady!” was +extant in his time; but the spirit of it certainly was, and Ormiston +determined to prove it. He wanted to see La Masque, and try his fate +once again; and see her he would, if he had to stay there as a sort of +ornamental prop to the house for a week. He knew he might as well look +for a needle in a haystack as his whimsical beloved through the streets +of London--dismal and dark now as the streets of Luxor and Tadmor in +Egypt; and he wisely resolved to spare himself and his Spanish leathers +boots the trial of a one-handed game of “hide-and-go-to-seek.” Wisdom, +like Virtue, is its own reward; and scarcely had he come to this +laudable conclusion, when, by the feeble glimmer of the house-lamps, he +saw a figure that made his heart bound, flitting through the night-gloom +toward him. He would have known that figure on the sands of Sahara, in +an Indian jungle, or an American forest--a tall, slight, supple figure, +bending and springing like a bow of steel, queenly and regal as that of +a young empress. It was draped in a long cloak reaching to the ground, +in color as black as the night, and clasped by a jewel whose glittering +flash, he saw even there; a velvet hood of the same color covered the +stately head; and the mask--the tiresome, inevitable mask covered the +beautiful--he was positive it was beautiful--face. He had seen her a +score of times in that very dress, flitting like a dark, graceful ghost +through the city streets, and the sight sent his heart plunging against +his side like an inward sledge-hammer. Would one pulse in her heart stir +ever so faintly at sight of him? Just as he asked himself the question, +and was stepping forward to meet her, feeling very like the country +swain in love--“hot and dry like, with a pain in his side like”--he +suddenly stopped. Another figure came forth from the shadow of an +opposite house, and softly pronounced her name. It was a short figure--a +woman's figure. He could not see the face, and that was an immense +relief to him, and prevented his having jealousy added to his other +pains and tribulations. La Masque paused as well as he, and her soft +voice softly asked: + +“Who calls?” + +“It is I, madame--Prudence.” + +“Ah! I am glad to meet you. I have been searching the city through for +you. Where have you been?” + +“Madame, I was so frightened that I don't know where I fled to, and +I could scarcely make up my mind to come back at all. I did feel +dreadfully sorry for her, poor thing! but you know, Madame Masque, I +could do nothing for her, and I should not have come back, only I was +afraid of you.” + +“You did wrong, Prudence,” said La Masque, sternly, or at least as +sternly as so sweet a voice could speak; “you did very wrong to leave +her in such a way. You should have come to me at once, and told me all.” + +“But, madame, I was so frightened!” + +“Bah! You are nothing but a coward. Come into this doorway, and tell me +all about it.” + +Ormiston drew back as the twain approached, and entered the deep portals +of La Masque's own doorway. He could see them both by the aforesaid +faint lamplight, and he noticed that La Masque's companion was a +wrinkled old woman, that would not trouble the peace of mind of the most +jealous lover in Christendom. Perhaps it was not just the thing to hover +aloof and listen; but he could not for the life of him help it; and +stand and listen he accordingly did. Who knew but this nocturnal +conversation might throw some light on the dark mystery he was anxious +to see through, and, could his ears have run into needle-points to hear +the better, he would have had the operation then and there performed. +There was a moment's silence after the two entered the portal, during +which La Masque stood, tall, dark, and commanding, motionless as a +marble column; and the little withered old specimen of humanity beside +her stood gazing up at her with something between fear and fascination. + +“Do you know what has become of your charge, Prudence?” asked the low, +vibrating voice of La Masque, at last. + +“How could I, madame? You know I fled from the house, and I dared not go +back. Perhaps she is there still.” + +“Perhaps she is not? Do you suppose that sharp shriek of yours was +unheard? No; she was found; and what do you suppose has become of her?” + +The old woman looked up, and seemed to read in the dark, stern figure, +and the deep solemn voice, the fatal truth. She wrung her hands with a +sort of cry. + +“Oh! I know, I know; they have put her in the dead-cart, and buried her +in the plague-pit. O my dear, sweet young mistress.” + +“If you had stayed by your dear, sweet young mistress, instead of +running screaming away as you did, it might not have happened,” said La +Masque, in a tone between derision and contempt. + +“Madame,” sobbed the old woman, who was crying, “she was dying of the +plague, and how could I help it? They would have buried her in spite of +me.” + +“She was not dead; there was your mistake. She was as much alive as you +or I at this moment.” + +“Madame, I left her dead!” said the old woman positively. + +“Prudence, you did no such thing; you left her fainting, and in that +state she was found and carried to the plague-pit.” + +The old woman stood silent for a moment, with a face of intense horror, +and then she clasped both hands with a wild cry. + +“O my God! And they buried her alive--buried her alive in that dreadful +plague-pit!” + +La Masque, leaning against a pillar, stood unmoved; and her voice, when +she spoke, was as coldly sweet as modern ice-cream. + +“Not exactly. She was not buried at all, as I happen to know. But when +did you discover that she had the plague, and how could she possibly +have caught it?” + +“That I do not know, madam. She seemed well enough all day, though not +in such high spirits as a bride should be. Toward evening she complained +of a headache and a feeling of faintness; but I thought nothing of it, +and helped her to dress for the bridal. Before it was over, the headache +and faintness grew worse, and I gave her wine, and still suspected +nothing. The last time I came in, she had grown so much worse, that +notwithstanding her wedding dress, she had lain down on her bed, looking +for all the world like a ghost, and told me she had the most dreadful +burning pain in her chest. Then, madame, the horrid truth struck me--I +tore down her dress, and there, sure enough, was the awful mark of +the distemper. `You have the plague!' I shrieked; and then I fled down +stairs and out of the house, like one crazy. O madame, madame! I shall +never forget it--it was terrible! I shall never forget it! Poor, poor +child; and the count does not know a word of it!” + +La Masque laughed--a sweet, clear, deriding laugh, “So the count does +not know it, Prudence? Poor man! he will be in despair when he finds it +out, won't he? Such an ardent and devoted lover as he was you know!” + +Prudence looked up a little puzzled. + +“Yes, madame, I think so. He seemed very fond of her; a great deal +fonder than she ever was of him. The fact is, madame,” said Prudence, +lowering her voice to a confidential stage whisper, “she never seemed +fond of him at all, and wouldn't have been married, I think, if she +could have helped it.” + +“Could have helped it? What do you mean, Prudence? Nobody made her, did +they?” + +Prudence fidgeted, and looked rather uneasy. + +“Why, madame, she was not exactly forced, perhaps; but you know--you +know you told me--” + +“Well?” said La Masque, coldly. + +“To do what I could,” cried Prudence, in a sort of desperation; “and I +did it, madame, and harassed her about it night and day. And then the +count was there, too, coaxing and entreating; and he was handsome and +had such ways with him that no woman could resist, much less one so +little used to gentlemen as Leoline. And so, Madame Masque, we kept at +her till we got her to consent to it at last; but in her secret heart, +I know she did not want to be married--at least to the count,” said +Prudence, on serious afterthought. + +“Well, well; that has nothing to do with it. The question is, where is +she to be found?” + +“Found!” echoed Prudence; “has she then been lost?” + +“Of coarse she has, you old simpleton! How could she help it, and she +dead, with no one to look after her?” said La Masque, with something +like a half laugh. “She was carried to the plague-pit in her +bridal-robes, jewels and lace; and, when about to be thrown in, was +discovered, like Moses is the bulrushes, to be all alive.” + +“Well,” whispered Prudence, breathlessly. + +“Well, O most courageous of guardians! she was carried to a certain +house, and left to her own devices, while her gallant rescuer went for a +doctor; and when they returned she was missing. Our pretty Leoline seems +to have a strong fancy for getting lost!” + +There was a pause, during which Prudence looked at her with a face full +of mingled fear and curiosity. At last: + +“Madame, how do you know all this? Were you there?” + +“No. Not I, indeed! What would take me there?” + +“Then how do you happen to know everything about it?” + +La Masque laughed. + +“A little bird told me, Prudence! Have you returned to resume your old +duties?” + +“Madame, I dare not go into that house again. I am afraid of taking the +plague.” + +“Prudence, you are a perfect idiot! Are you not liable to take the +plague in the remotest quarter of this plague-infested city? And even +if you do take it, what odds? You have only a few years to live, at the +most, and what matter whether you die now or at the end of a year or +two?” + +“What matter?” repeated Prudence, in a high key of indignant amazement. +“It may make no matter to you, Madame Masque, but it makes a great deal +to me; I can tell you; and into that infected house I'll not put one +foot.” + +“Just as you please, only in that case there is no need for further +talk, so allow me to bid you good-night!” + +“But, madame, what of Leoline? Do stop one moment and tell me of her.” + +“What have I to tell? I have told you all I know. If you want to find +her, you must search in the city or in the pest-house!” + +Prudence shuddered, and covered her face with her hands. + +“O, my poor darling! so good and so beautiful. Heaven might surely have +spared her! Are you going to do nothing farther about it?” + +“What can I do? I have searched for her and have not found her, and what +else remains?” + +“Madame, you know everything--surely, surely you know where my poor +little nursling is, among the rest.” + +Again La Masque laughed--another of her low, sweet, derisive laughs. + +“No such thing, Prudence. If I did, I should have her here in a +twinkling, depend upon--it. However, it all comes to the same thing in +the end. She is probably dead by this time, and would have to be buried +in the plague-pit, anyhow. If you have nothing further to say, Prudence, +you had better bid me good-night, and let me go.” + +“Good-night, madame!” said Prudence, with a sort of groan, as she +wrapped her cloak closely around her, and turned to go. + +La Masque stood for a moment looking after her, and then placed a key +in the lock of the door. But there is many a slip--she was not fated to +enter as soon as she thought; for just at that moment a new step sounded +beside her, a new voice pronounced her name, and looking around, she +beheld Ormiston. With what feelings that young person had listened +to the neat and appropriate dialogue I have just had the pleasure of +immortalizing, may be--to use a phrase you may have heard before, once +or twice--better imagined than described. He knew very well who Leoline +was, and how she had been saved from the plague-pit; but where in the +world had La Masque found it out. Lost in a maze of wonder, and inclined +to doubt the evidence of his own ears, he had stood perfectly still, +until his ladylove had so coolly dismissed her company, and then rousing +himself just in time, he had come forward and accosted her. La Masque +turned round, regarded him in silence for a moment, and when she spoke, +her voice had an accent of mingled surprise and displeasure. + +“You, Mr. Ormiston! How many more times am I to have the pleasure of +seeing you again to-night?” + +“Pardon, madame; it is the last time. But you must hear me now.” + +“Must I? Very well, then; if I must, you had better begin at once, for +the night-air is said to be unhealthy, and as good people are scarce, I +want to take care of myself.” + +“In that case, perhaps you had better let me enter, too. I hate to talk +on the street, for every wall has ears.” + +“I am aware of that. When I was talking to my old friend, Prudence, two +minutes ago, I saw a tall shape that I have reason to know, since it +haunts me, like my own shadow, standing there and paying deed attention. +I hope you found our conversation interesting, Mr. Ormiston!” + +“Madame!” began Ormiston, turning crimson. + +“Oh, don't blush; there is quite light enough from yonder lamp to show +that. Besides,” added the lady, easily, “I don't know as I had any +objection; you are interested in Leoline, and must feel curious to know +something about her.” + +“Madame, what must you think of me? I have acted unpardonably.” + +“Oh, I know all that. There is no need to apologize, and I don't think +any the worse of you for it. Will you come to business, Mr. Ormiston? +I think I told you I wanted to go in. What may you want of me at this +dismal hour?” + +“O madame, need you ask! Does not your own heart tell you?” + +“I am not aware that it does! And to tell you the truth, Mr. Ormiston, +I don't know that I even have a heart! I am afraid I must trouble you to +put it in words.” + +“Then, madame, I love you!” + +“Is that all? If my memory serves me, you have told me that little fact +several times before. Is there anything else tormenting you, or may I go +in?” + +Ormiston groaned out an oath between his teeth, and La Masque raised one +jeweled, snowy taper finger, reprovingly. + +“Don't Mr. Ormiston--it's naughty, you know! May I go in?” + +“Madame, you are enough to drive a man mad. Is the love I bear you +worthy of nothing but mockery!” + +“No, Mr. Ormiston, it is not; that is, supposing you really love me, +which you don't.” + +“Madame!” + +“Oh, you needn't flash and look indignant; it is quite true! Don't be +absurd, Mr. Ormiston. How is it possible for you to love one you have +never seen?” + +“I have seen you. Do you think I am blind?” he demanded, indignantly. + +“My face, I mean. I don't consider that you can see a person without +looking in her face. Now you have never looked in mine, and how do you +know I have any face at all?” + +“Madame, you mock me.” + +“Not at all. How are you to know what is behind this mask?” + +“I feel it, and that is better; and I love you all the same.” + +“Mr. Ormiston, how do you know but I am ugly.” + +“Madame, I do not believe you are; you are all too perfect not to have a +perfect face; and even were it otherwise, I still love you!” + +She broke into a laugh--one of her low, short, deriding laughs. + +“You do! O man, how wise thou art! I tell you, if I took off this mask, +the sight would curdle the very blood in your veins with horror--would +freeze the lifeblood in your heart. I tell you!” she passionately cried, +“there are sights too horrible for human beings to look on and live, and +this--this is one of them!” + +He started back, and stared at her aghast. + +“You think me mad,” she said, in a less fierce tone, “but I am not; and +I repeat it, Mr. Ormiston, the sight of what this mask conceals would +blast you. Go now, for Heaven's sake, and leave me in peace, to drag out +the rest of my miserable life; and if ever you think of me, let it be to +pray that it might speedily end. You have forced me to say this: so now +be content. Be merciful, and go!” + +She made a desperate gesture, and turned to leave him, but he caught her +hand and held her fast. + +“Never!” he cried, fiercely. “Say what you will! let that mask hide what +it may! I will never leave you till life leaves me!” + +“Man, you are mad! Release my hand and let me go!” + +“Madame, hear me. There is but one way to prove my love, and my sanity, +and that is--” + +“Well?” she said, almost touched by his earnestness. + +“Raise your mask and try me! Show me your face and see if I do not love +you still!” + +“Truly I know how much love you will have for me when it is revealed. Do +you know that no one has looked in my face for the last eight years.” + +He stood and gazed at her in wonder. + +“It is so, Mr. Ormiston; and in my heart I have vowed a vow to plunge +headlong into the most loathsome plague-pit in London, rather than ever +raise it again. My friend, be satisfied. Go and leave me; go and forget +me.” + +“I can do neither until I have ceased to forget every thing earthly. +Madame, I implore you, hear me!” + +“Mr. Ormiston, I tell you, you but court your own doom. No one can look +on me and live!” + +“I will risk it,” he said with an incredulous smile. “Only promise to +show me your face.” + +“Be it so then!” she cried almost fiercely. “I promise, and be the +consequences on your own head.” + +His whole face flushed with joy. + +“I accept them. And when is that happy time to come?” + +“Who knows! What must be done, had best be done quickly; but I tell thee +it were safer to play with the lightning's chain than tamper with what +thou art about to do.” + +“I take the risk! Will you raise your mask now?” + +“No, no--I cannot! But yet, I may before the sun rises. My face”--with +bitter scorn--“shows better by darkness than by daylight. Will you be +out to see, the grand illumination.” + +“Most certainly.” + +“Then meet me here an hour after midnight, and the face so long hidden +shall be revealed. But, once again, on the threshold of doom, I entreat +you to pause.” + +“There is no such word for me!” he fiercely and exultingly cried. “I +have your promise, and I shall hold you to it! And, madame, if, at last, +you discover my love is changeless as fate itself, then--then may I not +dare to hope for a return?” + +“Yes; then you may hope,” she said, with cold mockery. “If your love +survives the sight, it will be mighty, indeed, and well worthy a +return.” + +“And you will return it?” + +“I will.” + +“You will be my wife?” + +“With all my heart!” + +“My darling!” he cried, rapturously--“for you are mine already--how can +I ever thank you for this? If a whole lifetime devoted and consecrated +to your happiness can repay you, it shall be yours!” + +During this rhapsody, her hand had been on the handle of the door. Now +she turned it. + +“Good-night, Mr. Ormiston,” she said, and vanished. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE EARL'S BARGE. + +Shocks of joy, they tell me, seldom kill. Of my own knowledge I cannot +say, for I have had precious little experience of such shocks in my +lifetime, Heaven knows; but in the present instance, I can safely aver, +they had no such dismal effect on Ormiston. Nothing earthly could have +given that young gentleman a greater shock of joy than the knowledge he +was to behold the long hidden face of his idol. That that face was ugly, +he did not for an instant believe, or, at least, it never would be ugly +to him. With a form so perfect--a form a sylph might have envied--a +voice sweeter than the Singing Fountain of Arabia, hands and feet the +most perfectly beautiful the sun ever shone on, it was simply a moral +and physical impossibility that they could be joined to a repulsive +face. There was a remote possibility that it was a little less exquisite +than those ravishing items, and that her morbid fancy made her imagine +it homely, compared with them, but he knew he never would share in that +opinion. It was the reasoning of love, rather than logic; for when +love glides smiling in at the door, reason stalks gravely, not to say +sulkily, out of the window, and, standing afar off, eyes disdainfully +the didos and antics of her late tenement. There was very little reason, +therefore, in Ormiston's head and heart, but a great deal of something +sweeter, joy--joy that thrilled and vibrated through every nerve within +him. Leaning against the portal, in an absurd delirium of delight--for +it takes but a trifle to jerk those lovers from the slimiest depths of +the Slough of Despond to the topmost peak of the mountain of ecstasy--he +uncovered his head that the night-air might cool its feverish +throbbings. But the night-air was as hot as his heart; and, almost +suffocated by the sultry closeness, he was about to start for a plunge +in the river, when the sound of coming footsteps and voices arrested +him. He had met with so many odd ad ventures to-night that he stopped +now to see who was coming; for on every hand all was silent and +forsaken. + +Footsteps and voices came closer; two figures took shape in the gloom, +and emerged from the darkness into the glimmering lamp light. He +recognised them both. One was the Earl of Rochester; the other, his +dark-eyed, handsome page--that strange page with the face of the lost +lady! The earl was chatting familiarly, and laughing obstreperously at +something or other, while the boy merely wore a languid smile, as if +anything further in that line were quite beneath his dignity. + +“Silence and solitude,” said the earl, with a careless glance around, +“I protest, Hubert, this night seems endless. How long is it till +midnight?” + +“An hour and a half at least, I should fancy,” answered the boy, with a +strong foreign accent. “I know it struck ten as we passed St. Paul's.” + +“This grand bonfire of our most worshipful Lord Mayor will be a sight +worth seeing,” remarked the earl. “When all these piles are lighted, the +city will be one sea of fire.” + +“A slight foretaste of what most of its inhabitants will behold in +another world,” said the page, with a French shrug. “I have heard +Lilly's prediction that London is to be purified by fire, like a second +Sodom; perhaps it is to be verified to-night.” + +“Not unlikely; the dome of St. Paul's would be an excellent place to +view the conflagration.” + +“The river will do almost as well, my lord.” + +“We will have a chance of knowing that presently,” said the earl, as he +and his page descended to the river, where the little gilded barge lay +moored, and the boatman waiting. + +As they passed from sight Ormiston came forth, and watched thoughtfully +after them. The face and figure were that of the lady, but the voice +was different; both were clear and musical enough, but she spoke English +with the purest accent, while his was the voice of a foreigner. It most +have been one of those strange, unaccountable likenesses we sometimes +see among perfect strangers, but the resemblance in this ease was +something wonderful. It brought his thoughts back from himself and his +own fortunate love, to his violently-smitten friend, Sir Norman, and his +plague-stricken beloved; and he began speculating what he could possibly +be about just then, or what he had discovered in the old ruin. Suddenly +he was aroused; a moment before, the silence had been almost oppressive +but now on the wings of the night, there came a shout. A tumult of +voices and footsteps were approaching. + +“Stop her! Stop her!” was cried by many voices; and the next instant a +fleet figure went flying past him with a rush, and plunged head foremost +into she river. + +A slight female figure, with floating robes of white, waving hair of +deepest, blackness, with a sparkle of jewels on neck and arms. Only for +an instant did he see it; but he knew it well, and his very heart stood +still. “Stop her! stop her! she is ill of the plague!” shouted the +crowd, preying panting on; but they came too late; the white vision had +gone down into the black, sluggish river, and disappeared. + +“Who is it? What is it? Where is it?” cried two or three watchmen, +brandishing their halberds, and rushing up; and the crowd--a small mob of +a dozen or so--answered all at once: “She is delirious with the plague; +she was running through the streets; we gave chase, but she out-stepped +us, and is now at the bottom of the Thames.” + +Ormiston, waited to hear no more, but rushed precipitately down to the +waters edge. The alarm has now reached the boats on the river, and many +eyes within them were turned in the direction whence she had gone down. +Soon she reappeared on the dark surface--something whiter than snow, +whiter than death; shining like silver, shone the glittering dress and +marble face of the bride. A small batteau lay close to where Ormiston +stood; in two seconds he had sprang in, shoved it off, and was rowing +vigorously toward that snow wreath in the inky river. But he was +forestalled, two hands white and jeweled as her own, reached over the +edge of a gilded barge, and, with the help of the boatmen, lifted her +in. Before she could be properly established on the cushioned seats, the +batteau was alongside, and Ormiston turned a very white and excited face +toward the Earl of Rochester. + +“I know that lady, my lord! She is a friend of mine, and you must give +her to me!” + +“Is it you, Ormiston? Why what brings you here alone on the river, at +this hour?” + +“I have come for her,” said Ormiston, pressing over to lift the lady. +“May I beg you to assist me, my lord, in transferring her to my boat?” + +“You must wait till I see her first,” said Rochester, partly raising her +head, and holding a lamp close to her face, “as I have picked her out, I +think I deserve it. Heavens! what an extraordinary likeness!” + +The earl had glanced at the lady, then at his page, again at the lady, +and lastly at Ormiston, his handsome countenance full of the most +unmitigated wonder. “To whom?” asked Ormiston, who had very little need +to inquire. + +“To Hubert, yonder. Why, don't you see it yourself? She might be his +twin-sister!” + +“She might be, but as she is not, you will have the goodness to let me +take charge of her. She has escaped from her friends, and I must bring +her back to them.” + +He half lifted her as he spoke; and the boatman, glad enough to get rid +of one sick of the plague, helped her into the batteau. The lady was +not insensible, as might be supposed, after her cold bath, but extremely +wide-awake, and gazing around her with her great, black, shining eyes. +But she made no resistance; either she was too faint or frightened +for that, and suffered herself to be hoisted about, “passive to all +changes.” Ormiston spread his cloak in the stern of the boat, and +laid her tenderly upon it, and though the beautiful, wistful eyes were +solemnly and unwinkingly fixed on his face, the pale, sweet lips parted +not--uttered never a word. The wet bridal robes were drenched and +dripping about her, the long dark hair hung in saturated masses over her +neck and arms, and contrasted vividly with a face, Ormiston thought at +once, the whitest, most beautiful, and most stonelike he had ever seen. + +“Thank you, my man; thank you, my lord,” said Ormiston, preparing to +push off. + +Rochester, who had been leaning from the barge, gazing in mingled +curiosity, wonder, and admiration at the lovely face, turned now to her +champion. + +“Who is she, Ormiston?” he said, persuasively. + +But Ormiston only laughed, and rowed energetically for the shore. The +crowd was still lingering; and half a dozen hands were extended to draw +the boat up to the landing. He lifted the light form in his arms and +bore it from the boat; but before he could proceed farther with his +armful of beauty, a faint but imperious voice spoke: “Please put me +down. I am not a baby, and can walk myself.” + +Ormiston was so surprised, or rather dismayed, by this unexpected +address, that he complied at once, and placed her on her own pretty +feet. But the young lady's sense of propriety was a good deal stronger +than her physical powers; and she swayed and tottered, and had to cling +to her unknown friend for support. + +“You are scarcely strong enough, I am afraid, dear lady,” he said, +kindly. “You had better let me carry you. I assure you I am quite equal +to it, or even a more weighty burden, if necessity required.” + +“Thank you, sir,” said the faint voice, faintly; “but I would rather +walk. Where are you taking me to?” + +“To your own house, if you wish--it is quite close at hand.” + +“Yes. Yes. Let us go there! Prudence is there, and she will take care of +me.”. + +“Will she?” said Ormiston, doubtfully. “I hope you do not suffer much +pain!” + +“I do not suffer at all,” she said, wearily; “only I am so tired. Oh, I +wish I were home!” + +Ormiston half led, half lifted her up the stairs. + +“You are almost there, dear lady--see, it is close at hand!” + +She half lifted her languid eyes, but did not speak. Leaning panting on +his arm, he drew her gently on until they reached her door. It was still +unfastened. Prudence had kept her word, and not gone near it; and he +opened it, and helped her in. + +“Where now?” he asked. + +“Up stairs,” she said, feebly. “I want to go to my own room.” + +Ormiston knew where that was, and assisted her there as tenderly as he +could have done La Masque herself. He paused on the threshold; for the +room was dark. + +“There is a lamp and a tinder-box on the mantel,” said the faint, sweet +voice, “if you will only please to find them.” + +Ormiston crowed the room--fortunately he knew the latitude of the place +--and moving his hand with gingerly precaution along the mantel-shelf, +lest he should upset any of the gimcracks thereon, soon obtained the +articles named, and struck a light. The lady was leaning wearily against +the door-post, but now she came forward, and dropped exhausted into the +downy pillows of a lounge. + +“Is there anything I can do for you, madame?” began Ormiston, with as +solicitous an air as though he had been her father. “A glass of wine +would be of use to you, I think, and then, if you wish, I will go for a +doctor.” + +“You are very kind. You will find wine and glasses in the room opposite +this, and I feel so faint that I think you had better bring me some.” + +Ormiston moved across the passage, like the good, obedient young man +that he was, filled a glass of Burgundy, and as he was returning with +it, was startled by a cry from the lady that nearly made him drop and +shiver it on the floor. + +“What under heaven has come to her now?” he thought, hastening in, +wondering how she could possibly have come to grief since he left her. + +She was sitting upright on the sofa, her dress palled down off her +shoulder where the plague-spot had been, and which, to his amazement, he +saw now pure and stainless, and free from every loathsome trace. + +“You are cured of the plague!” was all he could say. + +“Thank God!” she exclaimed, fervently clasping her hands. “But oh! how +can it have happened? It must be a miracle!” + +“No, it was your plunge into the river; I have heard of one or two such +cases before, and if ever I take it,” said Ormiston, half laughing, half +shuddering, “my first rush shall be for old Father Thames. Here, drink +this, I am certain it will complete the cure.” + +The girl--she was nothing but a girl--drank it off and sat upright like +one inspired with new life. As she set down the glass, she lifted her +dark, solemn, beautiful eyes to his face with a long, searching gaze. + +“What is your name?” she simply asked. + +“Ormiston, madame,” he said, bowing low. + +“You have saved my life, have you not?” + +“It was the Earl of Rochester who reserved you from the river; but I +would have done it a moment later.” + +“I do not mean that. I mean”--with a slight shudder--“are you not one of +those I saw at the plague-pit? Oh! that dreadful, dreadful plague-pit!” + she cried, covering her face with her hands. + +“Yes. I am one of those.” + +“And who was the other?” + +“My friend, Sir Norman Kingsley. + +“Sir Norman Kingsley?” she softly repeated, with a sort of recognition +in her voice and eyes, while a faint roseate glow rose softly over +her face and neck. “Ah! I thought--was it to his house or yours I was +brought?” + +“To his,” replied Ormiston, looking at her curiously; for he had seen +that rosy glow, and was extremely puzzled thereby; “from whence, allow +me to add, you took your departure rather unceremoniously.” + +“Did I?” she said, in a bewildered sort of way. “It is all like a dream +to me. I remember Prudence screaming, and telling me I had the plague, +and the unutterable horror that filled me when I heard it; and then the +next thing I recollect is, being at the plague-pit, and seeing your face +and his bending over me. All the horror came back with that awakening, +and between it and anguish of the plague-sore I think I fainted again.” + (Ormiston nodded sagaciously), “and when I next recovered I was alone in +a strange room, and in bed. I noticed that, though I think I must have +been delirious. And then, half-mad with agony, I got out to the street, +somehow and ran, and ran, and ran, until the people saw and followed me +here. I suppose I had some idea of reaching home when I came here; but +the crowd pressed so close behind, and I felt though all my delirium, +that they would bring me to the pest-house if they caught me, and +drowning seemed to me preferable to that. So I was in the river before +I knew it--and you know the rest as well as I do. But I owe you my life, +Mr. Ormiston--owe it to you and another; and I thank you both with all +my heart.” + +“Madame, you are too grateful; and I don't know as we have done anything +much to deserve it.” + +“You have saved my life; and though you may think that a valueless +trifle, not worth speaking of, I assure you I view it in a very +different light,” she said, with a half smile. + +“Lady, your life is invaluable; but as to our saving it, why, you would +not have us throw you alive into the plague-pit, would you?” + +“It would have been rather barbarous, I confess, but there are few who +would risk infection for the sake of a mere stranger. Instead of doing +as you did, you might have sent me to the pest-house, you know.” + +“Oh, as to that, all your gratitude is due to Sir Norman. He managed the +whole affair, and what is more, fell--but I will leave that for himself +to disclose. Meantime, may I ask the name of the lady I have been so +fortunate as to serve!” + +“Undoubtedly, sir--my name is Leoline.” + +“Leoline is only half a name.” + +“Then I am so unfortunate an only to possess half a name, for I never +had any other.” + +Ormiston opened his eyes very wide indeed. + +“No other! you must have had a father some time in your life; most +people have,” said the young gentleman, reflectively. + +She shook her head a little sadly. + +“I never had, that I know of, either father or mother, or any one but +Prudence. And by the way,” she said, half starting up, “the first thing +to be done is, to see about this same Prudence. She must be somewhere in +the house.” + +“Prudence is nowhere in the house,” said Ormiston, quietly; “and will +not be, she says, far a month to come. She is afraid of the plague.” + +“Is she?” said Leoline, fixing her eyes on him with a powerful glance. +“How do you know that?” + +“I heard her say so not half an hour ago, to a lady a few doors distant. +Perhaps you know her--La Masque.” + +“That singular being! I don't know her; but I have seen her often. Why +was Prudence talking of me to her, I wonder?” + +“That I do not know; but talking of you the was, and she said she +was coming back here no more. Perhaps you will be afraid to stay here +alone?” + +“Oh no, I am used to being alone,” she said, with a little sigh, “but +where”--hesitating and blushing vividly, “where is--I mean, I should +like to thank sir Norman Kingsley.” + +Ormiston saw the blush and the eyes that dropped, and it puzzled him +again beyond measure. + +“Do you know Sir Norman Kingsley?” he suspiciously asked. + +“By sight I know many of the nobles of the court,” she answered +evasively, and without looking up: “they pass here often, and Prudence +knows them all; and so I have learned to distinguish them by name and +sight, your friend among the rest.” + +“And you would like to see my friend?” he said, with malicious emphasis. + +“I would like to thank him,” retorted the lady, with some asperity: +“you have told me how much I owe him, and it strikes me the desire is +somewhat natural.” + +“Without doubt it is, and it will save Sir Norman much fruitless labor; +for even now he is in search of you, and will neither rest nor sleep +until he finds you.” + +“In search of me!” she said softly, and with that rosy glow again +illumining her beautiful face; “he is indeed kind, and I am most anxious +to thank him.” + +“I will bring him here in two hours, then,” said Ormiston, with energy; +“and though the hour may be a little unseasonable, I hope you will +not object to it; for if you do, he will certainly not survive until +morning.” + +She gayly laughed, but her cheek was scarlet. + +“Rather than that, Mr. Ormiston, I will even see him tonight. You will +find me here when you come.” + +“You will not run away again, will you?” said Ormiston, looking at her +doubtfully. “Excuse me; but you have a trick of doing that, you know.” + +Again she laughed merrily. + +“I think you may safely trust me this time. Are you going?” + +By way of reply, Ormiston took his hat and started for the door. There +he paused, with his hand upon it. + +“How long have you known Sir Norman Kingsley?” was his careless, artful +question. + +But Leoline, tapping one little foot on the floor, and looking down at +it with hot cheeks and humid ayes, answered not a word. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN. + +When Sir Norman Kingsley entered the ancient ruin, his head was full of +Leoline--when he knelt down to look through the aperture in the flagged +floor, head and heart were full of her still. But the moment his eyes +fell on the scene beneath, everything fled far from his thoughts, +Leoline among the rest; and nothing remained but a profound and +absorbing feeling of intensest amaze. + +Right below him he beheld an immense room, of which the flag he had +raised seemed to form part of the ceiling, in a remote corner. Evidently +it was one of a range of lower vaults, and as he was at least fourteen +feet above it, and his corner somewhat in shadow, there was little +danger of his being seen. So, leaning far down to look at his leisure, +he took the goods the gods provided him, and stared to his heart's +content. + +Sir Norman had seen some queer sights during the four-and-twenty years +he had spent in this queer world, but never anything quite equal to +this. The apartment below, though so exceedingly large, was lighted with +the brilliance of noon-day; and every object it contained; from one end +to the other, was distinctly revealed. The floor, from glimpses he +had of it in obscure corners, was of stone; but from end to end it was +covered with richest rugs and mats, and squares of velvet of as many +colors as Joseph's coat. The walls were hung with splendid tapestry, +gorgeous in silk and coloring, representing the wars of Troy, the +exploits of Coeur de Lion among the Saracens, the death of Hercules, all +on one side; and on the other, a more modern representation, the Field +of the Cloth of Gold. The illumination proceeded from a range of wax +tapers in silver candelabra, that encircled the whole room. The air was +redolent of perfumes, and filled with strains of softest and sweetest +music from unseen hands. At one extremity of the room was a huge door +of glass and gilding; and opposite it, at the other extremity, was +a glittering throne. It stood on a raised dais, covered with crimson +velvet, reached by two or three steps carpeted with the same; the throne +was as magnificent as gold, and satin, and ornamentation could make +it. A great velvet canopy of the same deep, rich color, cut in antique +points, and heavily hung with gold fringe, was above the seat of honor. +Beside it, to the right, but a little lower down, was a similar throne, +somewhat less superb, and minus a canopy. From the door to the throne +was a long strip of crimson velvet, edged and embroidered with gold, and +arranged in a sweeping semi-circle, on either side, were a row of great +carved, gilded, and cushioned chairs, brilliant, too, with crimson and +gold, and each for every-day Christians, a throne in itself. Between the +blaze of illumination, the flashing of gilding and gold, the tropical +flush of crimson velvet, the rainbow dyes on floor and walls, the +intoxicating gushes of perfume, and the delicious strains of unseen +music, it is no wonder Sir Norman Kingsley's head was spinning like a +bewildered teetotum. + +Was he sane--was he sleeping? Had he drank too much wine at the Golden +Crown, and had it all gone to his head? Was it a scene of earnest +enchantment, or were fairy-tales true? Like Abou Hasson when he awoke +in the palace of the facetious Caliph of Bagdad, he had no notion of +believing his own eyes and ears, and quietly concluded it was all an +optical illusion, as ghosts are said to be; but he quietly resolved to +stay there, nevertheless, and see how the dazzling phantasmagoria would +end. The music was certainly ravishing, and it seemed to him, as he +listened with enchanted ears, that he never wanted to wake up from so +heavenly a dream. + +One thing struck him as rather odd; strange and bewildered as everything +was, it did not seem at all strange to him, on the contrary, a vague +idea was floating mistily through his mind that he had beheld precisely +the same thing somewhere before. Probably at some past period of his +life he had beheld a similar vision, or had seen a picture somewhere +like it in a tale of magic, and satisfying himself with this conclusion, +he began wondering if the genii of the place were going to make their +appearance at all, or if the knowledge that human eyes were upon them +had scared them back to Erebus. + +While still ruminating on this important question, a portion of the +tapestry, almost beneath him, shriveled up and up, and out flocked a +glittering throng, with a musical mingling of laughter and voices. Still +they came, more and more, until the great room was almost filled, and +a dazzling throng they were. Sir Norman had mingled in many a brilliant +scene at Whitehall, where the gorgeous court of Charles shone in all its +splendor, with the “merry monarch” at their head, but all he had ever +witnessed at the king's court fell far short of this pageant. Half +the brilliant flock were ladies, superb in satins, silks, velvets and +jewels. And such jewels! every gem that ever flashed back the sunlight +sparkled and blazed in blending array on those beautiful bosoms and +arms--diamonds, pearls, opals, emeralds, rubies, garnets, sapphires, +amethysts--every jewel that ever shone. But neither dresses nor gems +were half so superb as the peerless forms they adorned; and such an army +of perfectly beautiful faces, from purest blonde to brightest brunette, +had never met and mingled together before. + +Each lovely face was unmasked, but Sir Norman's dazzled eyes in vain +sought among them for one he knew. All that “rosebud garden of girls” + were perfect strangers to him, but not so the gallants, who fluttered +among them like moths around meteors. They, too, were in gorgeous array, +in purple and fine linen, which being interpreted, signifieth in silken +hose of every color under the sun, spangled and embroidered slippers +radiant with diamond buckles, doublets of as many different shades as +their tights, slashed with satin and embroidered with gold. Most of them +wore huge powdered wigs, according to the hideous fashion then in vogue, +and under those same ugly scalps, laughed many a handsome face Sir +Norman well knew. The majority of those richly-robed gallants were +strangers to him as well as the ladies, but whoever they were, whether +mortal men or “spirits from the vasty deep,” they were in the tallest +sort of clover just then. Evidently they knew it, too, and seemed to be +on the best of terms with themselves and all the world, and laughed, +and flirted, and flattered, with as much perfection as so many ball-room +Apollos of the present day. + +Still no one ascended the golden and crimson throne, though many of the +ladies and gentlemen fluttering about it were arrayed as royally as any +common king or queen need wish to be. They promenaded up and down, arm +in arm; they seated themselves in the carved and gilded chairs; they +gathered in little groups to talk and laugh, did everything, in short, +but ascend the throne; and the solitary spectator up above began to grow +intensely curious to know who it was for. Their conversation he could +plainly hear, and to say that it amazed him, would be to use a feeble +expression, altogether inadequate to his feelings. Not that it was the +remarks they made that gave his system each a shook, but the names by +which they addressed each other. One answered to the aspiring cognomen +of the Duke of Northumberland; another was the Earl of Leicester; +another, the Duke of Devonshire; another, the Earl of Clarendon; +another, the Duke of Buckingham; and so on, ad infinitum, dukes and +earls alternately, like bricks and mortar in the wall of a house. +There were other dignitaries besides, some that Sir Norman had a faint +recollection of hearing were dead for some years--Cardinal Wolsey, +Sir Thomas More, the Earl of Bothwell, King Henry Darnley, Sir Walter +Raleigh, the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Southampton, the Duke of York, +and no end of others with equally sonorous titles. As for mere lords and +baronets, and such small deer, there was nothing so plebeian present, +and they were evidently looked upon by the distinguished assembly, like +small deer in thunder, with pity and contempt. The ladies, too, were all +duchesses, marchionesses, countesses, and looked fit for princesses, +Sir Norman thought, though he heard none of them styled quite so high as +that. The tone of conversation was light and easy, but at the same +time extremely ceremonious and courtly, and all seemed to be enjoying +themselves in the most delightful sort of a way, which people of, +such distinguished rank, I am told, seldom do. All went merry as a +marriage-bell, and sweetly over the gay jingle of voices rose the sweet, +faint strains of the unseen music. + +Suddenly all was changed. The great door of glass and gilding opposite +the throne was flung wide, and a grand usher in a grand court livery +flourished a mighty grand wand, and shouted, in a stentorian voice, + +“Back: back, ye lieges, and make way for Her Majesty, Queen Miranda!” + +Instantly the unseen band thundered forth the national anthem. The +splendid throng fell back on either hand in profoundest silence and +expectation. The grand usher mysteriously disappeared, and in his place +there stalked forward a score of soldiers, with clanking swords and +fierce moustaches, in the gorgeous uniform of the king's body-guard. +These showy warriors arranged themselves silently on either side of the +crimson throne, and were followed by half a dozen dazzling personages, +the foremost crowned with mitre, armed with crozier, and robed in the +ecclesiastical glory of an archbishop, but the face underneath, to the +deep surprise and scandal of Sir Norman, was that of the fastest young +roue of Charles court, after him came another pompous dignitary, in such +unheard of magnificence that the unseen looker-on set him down for +a prime minister, or a lord high chancellor, at the very least. The +somewhat gaudy-looking gentlemen who stepped after the pious prelate and +peer wore the stars and garters of foreign courts, and were evidently +embassadors extraordinary to that of her midnight majesty. After them +came a snowy flock of fair young girls, angels all but the wings, +slender as sylphs, and robed in purest white. Each bore on her arm a +basket of flowers, roses and rosebuds of every tint, from snowy white to +darkest crimson, and as they floated in they scattered them lightly +as they went. And then after all came another vision, “the last, the +brightest, the best--the Midnight Queen,” herself. One other figure +followed her, and as they entered, a shout arose from the whole +assemblage, “Long live Queen Miranda!” And bowing gracefully and easily +to the right and left, the queen with a queenly step, trod the long +crimson carpet and mounted the regal throne. + +From the first moment of his looking down, Sir Norman had been staring +with all the eyes in his head, undergoing one shock of surprise after +another with the equanimity of a man quite new to it; but now a cry +arose to his lips, and died there in voiceless consternation. For he +recognized the queen--well he might!--he had seen her before, and her +face was the face of Leoline! + +As she mounted the stairs, she stood there for a moment crowned and +sceptred, before sitting down, and in that moment he recognized the +whole scene. That gorgeous room and its gorgeous inmates; that regal +throne and its regal owner, all became palpable as the sun at noonday; +that slender, exquisite figure, robed in royal purple and ermine; the +uncovered neck and arms, snowy and perfect, ablaze with jewels; that +lovely face, like snow, like marble, in its whiteness and calm, with +the great, dark, earnest eyes looking out, and the waving wealth of hair +falling around it. It was the very scene, and room, and vision, that +La Masque had shown him in the caldron, and that face was the face of +Leoline, and the earl's page. + +Could he be dreaming? Was he sane or mad, or were the three really one? + +While he looked, the beautiful queen bowed low, and amid the profoundest +and most respectful silence, took her seat. In her robes of purple, +wearing the glittering crown, sceptre in hand, throned and canopied, +royally beautiful she looked indeed, and a most vivid contrast to the +gentleman near her, seated very much at his ease, on the lower throne. +The contrast was not of dress--for his outward man was resplendent to +look at; but in figure and face, or grace and dignity, he was a very +mean specimen of the lords of creation, indeed. In stature, he scarcely +reached to the queen's royal shoulder, but made up sideways what he +wanted in length--being the breadth of two common men; his head was in +proportion to his width, and was decorated with a wig of long, flowing, +flaxen hair, that scarcely harmonized with a profusion of the article +whiskers, in hue most unmitigated black; his eyes were small, keen, +bright, and piercing, and glared on the assembled company as they had +done half an hour before on Sir Norman Kingsley, in the bar-room of the +Golden Crown; for the royal little man was no other than Caliban, the +dwarf. Behind the thrones the flock of floral angels grouped themselves; +archbishop, prime minister, and embassadors, took their stand within the +lines of the soldiery, and the music softly and impressively died sway +in the distance; dead silence reigned. + +“My lord Duke,” began the queen, in the very voice he had heard at the +plague-pit, as she turned to the stylish individual next the archbishop, +“come forward and read us the roll of mortality since our last meeting.” + +His grace, the duke, instantly stepped forward, bowing so low that +nothing was seen of him for a brief space, but the small of his back, +and when he reared himself up, after this convulsion of nature, Sir +Norman beheld a face not entirely new to him. At first, he could not +imagine where he had seen it, but speedily she recollected it was the +identical face of the highwayman who had beaten an inglorious retreat +from him and Count L'Estrange, that very night. This ducat robber drew +forth a roll of parchment, and began reading, in lachrymose tones, +a select litany of defunct gentlemen, with hifalutin titles who had +departed this life during the present week. Most of them had gone with +the plague, but a few had died from natural causes, and among these were +the Earls of Craven and Ashley. + +“My lords Craven and Ashley dead!” exclaimed the queen, in tones of some +surprise, but very little anguish; “that is singular, for we saw them +not two hours ago, in excellent health and spirits.” + +“True, poor majesty,” said the duke, dolefully, “and it is not an hour +since they quitted this vale of tears. They and myself rode forth +at nightfall, according to Custom, to lay your majesty's tax on all +travelers, and soon chanced to encounter one who gave vigorous battle; +still, it would have done him little service, had not another person +come suddenly to his aid, and between them they clove the skulls of +Ashley and Craven; and I,” said the duke, modestly, “I left.” + +“Were either of the travelers young, and tall, and of courtly bearing?” + exclaimed the dwarf with sharp rudeness. + +“Both were, your highness,” replied the duke, bowing to the small +speaker, “and uncommonly handy with their weapons.” + +“I saw one of them down at the Golden Crown, not long ago,” said the +dwarf; “a forward young popinjay, and mighty inquisitive about this, +our royal palace. I promised him, if he came here, a warm reception--a +promise I will have the greatest pleasure in fulfilling.” + +“You may stand aside, my lord duke,” said the queen, with a graceful +wave of her hand, “and if any new subjects have been added to our court +since our last weekly meeting, let them come forward, and be sworn.” + +A dozen or more courtiers immediately stepped forward, and kneeling +before the queen, announced their name and rank, which were both +ambitiously high. A few silvery-toned questions were put by that royal +lady and satisfactorily answered, and then the archbishop, armed with +a huge tome, administered a severe and searching oath, which the +candidates took with a great deal of sang froid, and were then +permitted to kiss the hand of the queen--a privilege worth any amount of +swearing--and retire. + +“Let any one who has any reports to make, make them immediately,” again +commanded her majesty. + +A number of gentlemen of high rank, presented themselves at this +summons, and began relating, as a certain sect of Christians do +in church, their experience! Many of these consisted, to the deep +disapproval of Sir Norman, of accounts of daring highway robberies, one +of them perpetrated on the king himself, which distinguished personage +the duplicate of Leoline styled “our brother Charles,” and of the +sums thereby attained. The treasurer of state was then ordered to show +himself, and give an account of the said moneys, which he promptly did; +and after him came a number of petitioners, praying for one thing and +another, some of which the queen promised to grant, and some she didn't. +These little affairs of state being over, Miranda turned to the little +gentleman beside her, with the observation, + +“I believe, your highness, it is on this night the Earl of Gloucester is +to be tried on a charge of high treason, is it not?” + +His highness growled a respectful assent. + +“Then let him be brought before us,” said the queen. “Go, guards, and +fetch him.” + +Two of the soldiers bowed low, and backed from the royal presence, amid +dead and ominous silence. At this interesting stage of the proceedings, +as Sir Norman was leaning forward, breathless and excited, a footstep +sounded on the flagged floor beside him, and some one suddenly grasped +his shoulder with no gentle hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX. LEOLINE. + +In one instant Sir Norman was on his feet and his hand on his sword. In +the tarry darkness, neither the face nor figure of the intruder could be +made out, but he merely saw a darker shadow beside him standing in the +sea of darkness. Perhaps he might have thought it a ghost, but that the +hand which grasped his shoulder was unmistakably of flesh, and blood, +and muscle, and the breathing of its owner was distinctly audible by his +side. + +“Who are you?” demanded Sir Norman, drawing out his sword, and wrenching +himself free from his unseen companion. + +“Ah! it is you, is it? I thought so,” said a not unknown voice. “I have +been calling you till I am hoarse, and at last gave it up, and started +after you in despair. What are you doing here?” + +“You, Ormiston!” exclaimed Sir Norman, in the last degree astonished. +“How--when--what are you doing here?” + +“What are you doing here? that's more to the purpose. Down flat on +your face, with your head stuck through that hole. What is below there, +anyway?” + +“Never mind,” said Sir Norman, hastily, who, for some reason quite +unaccountable to himself, did not wish Ormiston to see. “There's nothing +therein particular, but a lower range of vaults. Do you intend telling +me what has brought you here?” + +“Certainly; the very fleetest horse I could find in the city.” + +“Pshaw! You don't say so?” exclaimed Sir Norman, incredulously. “But +I presume you had some object in taking such a gallop? May I ask what? +Your anxious solicitude on my account, very likely?” + +“Not precisely. But, I say, Kingsley, what light is that shining through +there? I mean to see.” + +“No, you won't,” said Sir Norman, rapidly and noiselessly replacing the +flag. “It's nothing, I tell you, but a number of will-o-'wisps having +a ball. Finally, and for the last time, Mr. Ormiston, will you have the +goodness to tell me what has sent you here?” + +“Come out to the air, then. I have no fancy for talking in this place; +it smells like a tomb.” + +“There is nothing wrong, I hope?” inquired Sir Norman, following his +friend, and threading his way gingerly through the piles of rubbish in +the profound darkness. + +“Nothing wrong, but everything extremely right. Confound this place! +It would be easier walking on live eels than through these winding and +lumbered passages. Thank the fates, we are through them, at last! for +there is the daylight, or, rather the nightlight, and we have escaped +without any bones broken.” + +They had reached the mouldering and crumbling doorway, shown by a square +of lighter darkness, and exchanged the damp, chill atmosphere of the +vaults for the stagnant, sultry open air. Sir Norman, with a notion in +his head that his dwarfish highness might have placed sentinels around +his royal residence, endeavored to pierce the gloom in search of them. +Though he could discover none, he still thought discretion the better +part of valor, and stepped out into the road. + +“Now, then, where are you going?” inquired Ormiston for, following him. + +“I don't wish to talk here; there is no telling who may be listening. +Come along.” + +Ormiston glanced back at the gloomy rain looming up like a black spectre +in the blackness. + +“Well, they must have a strong fancy for eavesdropping, I must say, who +world go to that haunted heap to listen. What have you seen there, and +where have you left your horse?” + +“I told you before,” said Sir Norman, rather impatiently, “that I have +seen nothing--at least, nothing you would care about; and my horse is +waiting me at the Golden Crown.” + +“Very well, we have no time to lose; so get there as fast as you can, +and mount him and ride as if the demon were after you back to London.” + +“Back to London? Is the man crazy? I shall do no such thing, let me tell +you, to-night.” + +“Oh, just as you please,” said Ormiston, with a great deal of +indifference, considering the urgent nature of his former request. “You +can do as you like, you know, and so can I--which translated, means, I +will go and tell her you have declined to come.” + +“Tell her? Tell whom? What are you talking about? Hang it, man!” + exclaimed Sir Norman, getting somewhat excited and profane, “what are +you driving at? Can't you speak out and tell me at once?” + +“I have told you!” said Ormiston, testily: “and I tell you again, she +sent me in search of you, and if you don't choose to come, that's your +own affair, and not mine.” + +This was a little too much for Sir Norman's overwrought feelings, and in +the last degree of exasperation, he laid violent hands on the collar of +Ormiston's doublet, and shook him as if he would have shaken the name +out with a jerk. + +“I tell you what it is, Ormiston, you had better not aggravate me! I can +stand a good deal, but I'm not exactly Moses or Job, and you had better +mind what you're at. If you don't come to the point at once, and tell +me who I she is, I'll throttle you where you stand; and so give you +warning.” + +Half-indignant, and wholly laughing, Ormiston stepped back out of the +way of his excited friend. + +“I cry you mercy! In one word, then, I have been dispatched by a lady in +search of you, and that lady is--Leoline.” + +It has always been one of the inscrutable mysteries in natural +philosophy that I never could fathom, why men do not faint. Certain it +is, I never yet heard of a man swooning from excess of surprise or +joy, and perhaps that may account for Sir Norman's not doing so on the +present occasion. But he came to an abrupt stand-still in their rapid +career; and if it had not been quite so excessively dark, his friend +would have beheld a countenance wonderful to look on, in its mixture of +utter astonishment and sublime consternation. + +“Leoline!” he faintly gasped. “Just stop a moment, Ormiston, and say +that again--will you?” + +“No,” said Ormiston, hurrying unconcernedly on; “I shall do no such +thing, for there is no time to lose, and if there were I have no fancy +for standing in this dismal road. Come on, man, and I'll tell you as we +go.” + +Thus abjured, and seeing there was no help for it, Sir Norman, in a +dazed and bewildered state, complied; and Ormiston promptly and briskly +relaxed into business. + +“You see, my dear fellow, to begin at the beginning, after you left, I +stood at ease at La Masque's door, awaiting that lady's return, and +was presently rewarded by seeing her come up with an old woman called +Prudence. Do you recollect the woman who rushed screaming out of the +home of the dead bride?” + +“Yes, yes!” + +“Well, that was Prudence. She and La Masque were talking so earnestly +they did not perceive me, and I--well, the fact is, Kingsley, I stayed +and listened. Not a very handsome thing, perhaps, but I couldn't resist +it. They were talking of some one they called Leoline, and I, in a +moment, knew that it was your flame, and that neither of them knew any +more of her whereabouts than we did.” + +“And yet La Masque told me to come here in search of her,” interrupted +Sir Norman. + +“Very true! That was odd--wasn't it? This Prudence, it appears, was +Leoline's nurse, and La Masque, too, seemed to have a certain authority +over her; and between them, I learned she was to have been married this +very night, and died--or, at least, Prudence thought so--an hour or two +before the time.” + +“Then she was not married?” cried Sir Norman, in an ecstasy of delight. + +“Not a bit of it; and what is more, didn't want to be; and judging from +the remarks of Prudence, I should say, of the two, rather preferred the +plague.” + +“Then why was she going to do it? You don't mean to say she was forced?” + +“Ah, but I do, though! Prudence owned it with the most charming candor +in the world.” + +“Did you hear the name of the person she was to have married?” asked Sir +Norman, with kindling eyes. + +“I think not; they called him the count, if my memory serves me, and +Prudence intimated that he knew nothing of the melancholy fate of +Mistress Leoline. Most likely it was the person in the cloak and +slouched hat we saw talking to the watchman.” + +Sir Norman said nothing, but he thought a good deal, and the burden of +his thoughts was an ardent and heartfelt wish that the Court L'Estrange +was once more under the swords of the three robbers, and waiting for him +to ride to the rescue--that was all! + +“La Masque urged Prudence to go back,” continued Ormiston; “but Prudence +respectfully declined, and went her way bemoaning the fate of her +darling. When she was gone, I stepped up to Madame Masque, and that +lady's first words of greeting were an earnest hope that I had been +edified and improved by what I had overheard.” + +“She saw you, then?” said Sir Norman. + +“See me? I believe you! She has more eyes than ever Argus had, and each +one is as sharp as a cambric needle. Of course I apologized, and so on, +and she forgave me handsomely, and then we fell to discoursing--need I +tell you on what subject?” + +“Love, of course,” said Sir Norman. + +“Yes, mingled with entreaties to take off her mask that would have moved +a heart of stone. It moved what was better--the heart of La Masque; and, +Kingsley, she has consented to do it; and she says that if, after seeing +her face, I still love her, she will be my wife.” + +“Is it possible? My dear Ormiston, I congratulate you with all my +heart!” + +“Thank you! After that she left me, and I walked away in such a frenzy +of delight that I couldn't have told whether I was treading this earth +or the shining stars of the seventh heaven, when suddenly there flew +past me a figure all in white--the figure of a bride, Kingsley, pursued +by an excited mob. We were both near the river, and the first thing I +knew, she was plump into it, with the crowd behind, yelling to stop her, +that she was ill of the plague.” + +“Great Heaven! and was she drowned?” + +“No, though it was not her fault. The Earl of Rochester and his +page--you remember that page, I fancy--were out in their barge, and +the earl picked her up. Then I got a boat, set out after her, claimed +her--for I recognized her, of course--brought her ashore, and deposited +her safe and sound in her own house. What do you think of that?” + +“Ormiston,” said Norman, catching him by the shoulder, with a very +excited face, “is this true?” + +“True as preaching, Kingsley, every word of it! And the most +extraordinary part of the business is, that her dip in cold water has +effectually cured her of the plague; not a trace of it remains.” + +Sir Norman dropped his hand, and walked on, staring straight before him, +perfectly speechless. In fact, no known language in the world could have +done justice to his feelings at that precise period; for three times +that night, in three different shapes, had he seen this same Leoline, +and at the same moment he was watching her decked out in royal state in +the rain, Ormiston had probably been assisting her from her cold bath in +the river Thames. + +Astonishment and consternation are words altogether too feeble to +express his state of mind; but one idea remained clear and bright amid +all his mental chaos, and that was, that the Leoline he had fallen in +love with dead, was awaiting him, alive and well, in London. + +“Well,” said Ormiston, “you don't speak! What do you think of all this?” + +“Think! I can't think--I've got past that long ago!” replied his friend, +hopelessly. “Did you really say Leoline was alive and well?” + +“And waiting for you--yes, I did, and I repeat it; and the sooner you +get back to town, the sooner you will see her; so don't loiter--” + +“Ormiston, what do you mean! Is it possible I can see her to-night?” + +“Yes, it is; the dear creature is waiting for you even now. You see, +after we got to the house, and she had consented to become a little +rational, mutual explanations ensued, by which it appeared she had ran +away from Sir Norman Kingsley's in a state of frenzy, had jumped into +the river in a similarly excited state of mind, and was most anxious +to go down on her pretty knees and thank the aforesaid Sir Norman for +saving her life. What could any one as gallant as myself do under these +circumstances, but offer to set forth in quest of that gentleman? And +she promptly consented to sit up and wait his coming, and dismissed me +with her blessing. And, Kingsley, I've a private notion she is as deeply +affected by you as you are by her; for, when I mentioned your name, she +blushed, yea, verily to the roots of her hair; and when she spoke of +you, couldn't so much as look me in the face--which is, you must own, a +very bad symptom.” + +“Nonsense!” said Sir Norman, energetically. And had it been daylight, +his friend would have seen that he blushed almost as extensively as the +lady. “She doesn't know me.” + +“Ah, doesn't she, though? That shows all you know about it! She has +seen you go past the window many and many a time; and to see you,” said +Ormiston, making a grimace undercover of the darkness, “is to love! She +told me so herself.” + +“What! That she loved me!” exclaimed Sir Norman, his notions of +propriety to the last degree shocked by such a revelation. + +“Not altogether, she only looked that; but she said she knew you well +by sight, and by heart, too, as I inferred from her countenance when +she said it. There now, don't make me talk any more, for I have told you +everything I know, and am about hoarse with my exertions.” + +“One thing only--did she tell you who she was?” + +“No, except that her name was Leoline, and nothing else--which struck me +as being slightly improbable. Doubtless, she will tell you everything, +and one piece of advice I may venture to give you, which is, you may +propose as soon as you like without fear of rejection. Here we are at +the Golden Crown, so go in and get your horse, and let us be off.” + +All this time Ormiston had been leading his own horse by the bridle, and +as Sir Norman silently complied with this suggestion, in five minutes +more they were in their saddles, and galloping at break-neck speed toward +the city. To tell the truth, one was not more inclined for silence than +the other, and the profoundest and thoughtfulest silence was maintained +till they reached it. One was thinking of Leoline, the other of La +Masque, and both were badly in love, and just at that particular moment +very happy. Of course the happiness of people in that state never lasts +longer than half an hour at a stretch, and then they are plunged back +again into misery and distraction; but while it does last, it in, very +intense and delightful indeed. + +Our two friends having drained the bitten, had got to the bottom of the +cup, and neither knew that no sooner were the sweets swallowed, than +it was to be replenished with a doubly-bitter dose. Neither of them +dismounted till they reached the house of Leoline, and there Sir Norman +secured his horse, and looked up at it with a beating heart. Not that +it was very unusual for his heart to beat, seeing it never did anything +else; but on that occasion its motion was so much accelerated, that any +doctor feeling his pulse might have justly set him down as a bad case +of heart-disease. A small, bright ray of light streamed like a beacon +of hope from an upper window, and the lover looked at it as a clouded +mariner might at the shining of the North Star. + +“Are you coming in, Ormiston?” he inquired, feeling, for the first time +in his life, almost bashful. “It seems to me it would only be right, you +know.” + +“I don't mind going in and introducing` you,” said Ormiston; “but after +you have been delivered over, you may fight your own battles, and take +care of yourself. Come on.” + +The door was unfastened, and Ormiston sprang upstairs with the air of a +man--quite at home, followed more decorously by Sir Norman. The door +of the lady's room stood ajar, as he had left it, and in answer to his +“tapping at the chamber-door,” a sweet feminine voice called “come in.” + +Ormiston promptly obeyed, and the next instant they were in the room, +and in the presence of the dead bride. Certainly she did not look dead, +but very much alive, just then, as she sat in an easy-chair, drawn up +before the dressing-table, on which stood the solitary lamp that illumed +the chamber. In one hand she held a small mirror, or, as it was then +called, a “sprunking-glass,” in which she was contemplating her own +beauty, with as much satisfaction as any other pretty girl might justly +do. She had changed her drenched dress during Ormiston's absence, and +now sat arrayed in a swelling amplitude of rose-colored satin, her dark +hair clasped and bound by a circle of milk-white pearls, and her pale, +beautiful face looking ten degrees more beautiful than ever, in contrast +with the bright rose-silk, shining dark hair, and rich white jewels. She +rose up as they entered, and came forward with the same glow on her face +and the same light in her eyes that one of them had seen before, and +stood with drooping eyelashes, lovely as a vision in the centre of the +room. + +“You see I have lost no time in obeying your ladyship's commands,” began +Ormiston, bowing low. “Mistress Leoline, allow me to present Sir Norman +Kingsley.” + +Sir Norman Kingsley bent almost as profoundly before the lady as +the lord high chancellor had done before Queen Miranda; and the lady +courtesied, in return, until her pink-satin skirt ballooned out all over +the floor. It was quite an affecting tableau. And so Ormiston felt, as +he stood eyeing it with preternatural gravity. + +“I owe my life to Sir Norman Kingsley,” murmured the faint, sweet voice +of the lady, “and could not rest until I had thanked him. I have no +words to say how deeply thankful and grateful I am.” + +“Fairest Leoline! one word from such lips would be enough to repay me, +had I done a thousandfold more,” responded Norman, laying his hand on +his heart, with another deep genuflection. + +“Very pretty indeed!” remarked Ormiston to himself, with a little +approving nod; “but I'm afraid they won't be able to keep it up, and go +on talking on stilts like that, till they have finished. Perhaps they +may get on all the better if I take myself off, there being always one +too many in a case like this.” Then aloud: “Madame, I regret that I am +obliged to depart, having a most particular appointment; but, doubtless, +my friend will be able to express himself without my assistance. I have +the honor to wish you both good-night.” + +With which neat and appropriate speech, Ormiston bowed himself out, and +was gone before Leoline could detain him, even if she wished to do so. +Probably, however, she thought the care of one gentleman sufficient +responsibility at once; and she did not look very seriously distressed +by his departure; and, the moment he disappeared, Sir Norman brightened +up wonderfully. + +It is very discomposing to the feelings to make love in the presence of +a third party; and Sir Norman had no intention of wasting his time on +anything, and went at it immediately. Taking her hand, with a grace +that would have beaten Sir Charles Grandison or Lord Chesterfield all +to nothing, he led her to a couch, and took a seat as near her as was +at all polite or proper, considering the brief nature of their +acquaintance. The curtains were drawn; the lamp shed a faint light; the +house was still, and there was no intrusive papa to pounce down upon +them; the lady was looking down, and seemed in no way haughty +or discouraging, and Sir Norman's spirits went up with a jump to +boiling-point. + +Yet the lady, with all her pretty bashfulness, was the first to speak. + +“I'm afraid, Sir Norman, you must think this a singular hour to come +here; but, in these dreadful times, we cannot tell if we may live from +one moment to another; and I should not like to die, or have you die, +without my telling, and you hearing, all my gratitude. For I do +assure you, Sir Norman,” said the lady, lifting her dark eyes with the +prettiest and most bewitching earnestness, “that I am grateful, though I +cannot find words to express it.” + +“Madame, I would not listen to you if you would; for I have done nothing +to deserve thanks. I wish I could tell you what I felt when Ormiston +told me you were alive and safe.” + +“You are very kind, but pray do not call me madame. Say Leoline!” + +“A thousand thanks, dear Leoline!” exclaimed Sir Norman, raising her +hand to his lips, and quite beside himself with ecstasy. + +“Ah, I did not tell you to say that!” she cried, with a gay laugh and +vivid blush. “I never said you were to call me dear.” + +“It arose from my heart to my lips,” said Sir Norman, with thrilling +earnestness and fervid glance; “for you are dear to me--dearer than all +the world beside!” + +The flush grew a deeper glow on the lady's face; but, singular to +relate, she did not look the least surprised or displeased; and the hand +he had feloniously purloined lay passive and quite contented in his. + +“Sir Norman Kingsley is pleased to jest,” said the lady, in a subdued +tone, and with her eyes fixed pertinaciously on her shining dress; “for +he has never spoken to me before in his life!” + +“That has nothing to do with it, Leoline. I love you as devotedly as if +I had known you from your birthday; and, strange to say, I feel as if we +had been friends for years instead of minutes. I cannot realize at all +that you are a stranger to me!” + +Leoline laughed: + +“Nor I; though, for that matter, you are not a stranger to me, Sir +Norman!” + +“Am I not? How is that!” + +“I have seen you go past so often, you know; and Prudence told me who +you were; and so I need--I used--” hesitating and glowing to a degree +before which her dress paled. + +“Well, dearest,” said Sir Norman, getting from the positive to the +superlative at a jump, and diminishing the distance between them, “you +need to--what?” + +“To watch for you!” said Leoline, in a sly whisper. “And so I have got +to know you very well!” + +“My own darling! And, O Leoline! may I hope--dare I hope--that you do +not altogether hate me?” + +Leoline looked reflective; though her bleak eyes were sparkling under +their sweeping lashes. + +“Why, no,” she said, demurely, “I don't know as I do. It's very sinful +and improper to hate one's fellow-creatures, you know, Sir Norman, and +therefore I don't indulge in it.” + +“Ah! you are given to piety, I see. In that case, perhaps you are aware +of a precept commanding us to love our neighbors. Now, I'm your nearest +neighbor at present; so, to keep up a consistent Christian spirit, just +be good enough to say you love me!” + +Again Leoline laughed; and this time the bright, dancing eyes beamed in +their sparkling darkness full upon him. + +“I am afraid your theology is not very sound, my friend, and I have +a dislike to extremes. There is a middle course, between hating and +loving. Suppose I take that?” + +“I will have no middle courses--either hating or loving it must be! +Leoline! Leoline!” (bending over her, and imprisoning both hands this +time) “do say you love me!” + +“I am captive in your hands, so I must, I suppose. Yes, Sir Norman, I do +love you!” + +Every man hearing that for the first time from a pair of loved lips +is privileged to go mad for a brief season, and to go through certain +manoeuvers much more delectable to the enjoyers than to society at +large. For fully ten minutes after Leoline's last speech, there was +profound silence. But actions sometimes speak louder than words; and +Leoline was perfectly convinced that her declaration had not fallen on +insensible ears. At the end of that period, the space between them on +the couch had so greatly diminished, that the ghost of a zephyr would +have been crushed to death trying to get between them; and Sir Norman's +face was fairly radiant. Leoline herself looked rather beaming; and she +suddenly, and without provocation, burst into a merry little peal of +laughter. + +“Well, for two people who were perfect strangers to each other half +an hour ago, I think we have gone on remarkably well. What will Mr. +Ormiston and Prudence say, I wonder, when they hear this?” + +“They will say what is the truth--that I am the luckiest man in England. +O Leoline! I never thought it was in me to love any one as I do you.”' + +“I am very glad to hear it; but I knew that it was in me long before I +ever dreamed of knowing you. Are you not anxious to know something about +the future Lady Kingsley's past history?” + +“It will all come in good time; it is not well to have a surfeit of joy +in one night. + +“I do not know that this will add to your joy; but it had better be told +and be done with, at once and forever. In the first place, I presume I +am an orphan, for I have never known father or mother, and I have never +had any other name but Leoline.” + +“So Ormiston told me.” + +“My first recollection is of Prudence; she was my nurse and governess, +both in one; and we lived in a cottage by the sea--I don't know where, +but a long way from this. When I was about ten years old, we left it, +and came to London, and lived in a house in Cheapside, for five or six +years; and then we moved here. And all this time, Sir Norman you will +think it strange--but I never made any friends or acquaintances, and +knew no one but Prudence and an old Italian professor, who came to +our lodgings in Cheapside, every week, to give me lessons. It was not +because I disliked society, you must know; but Prudence, with all +her kindness and goodness--and I believe she truly loves me--has been +nothing more or less all my life than my jailer.” + +She paused to clasp a belt of silver brocade, fastened by a pearl +buckle, close around her little waist, and Sir Norman fixed his eyes +upon her beautiful face, with a powerful glance. + +“Knew no one--that is strange, Leoline! Not even the Count L'Estrange?” + +“Ah! you know him?” she cried eagerly, lifting her eyes with a bright +look; “do--do tell me who he is?” + +“Upon my honor, my dear,” said Sir Norman, considerably taken aback, +“it strikes me you are the person to answer that question. If I don't +greatly mistake, somebody told me you were going to marry him.” + +“Oh, so I was,” said Leoline, with the utmost simplicity. “But I don't +know him, for all that; and more than that, Sir Norman, I do not believe +his name is Count L'Estrange, any more than mine is!” + +“Precisely my opinion; but why, in the name of--no, I'll not swear; but +why were you going to marry him, Leoline?” + +Leoline half pouted, and shrugged her pretty pink satin shoulders. + +“Because I couldn't help it--that's why. He coaxed, and coaxed; and I +said no, and no, and no, until I got tired of it. Prudence, too, was as +bad as he was, until between them I got about distracted, and at last +consented to marry him to get rid of him.” + +“My poor, persecuted little darling! Oh,” cried Sir Norman, with a burst +of enthusiasm, “how I should admire to have Count L'Estrange here for +about ten minutes, just now! I would spoil his next wooing for him, or I +am mistaken!” + +“No, no!” said Leoline, looking rather alarmed; “you must not fight, you +know. I shouldn't at all like either of you to get killed. Besides, he +has not married me; and so there's no harm done.” + +Sir Norman seemed rather struck by that view of the case, and after a +few moments reflection on it, came to the conclusion that she knew best, +and settled down peaceably again. + +“Why do you suppose his name is not Count L'Estrange?” he asked. + +“For many reasons. First--he is disguised; wears false whiskers, +moustache, and wig, and even the voice he uses appears assumed. Then +Prudence seems in the greatest awe of him, and she is not one to be +easily awed. I never knew her to be in the slightest degree intimidated +by any human being but himself and that mysterious woman, La Masque. + +“Ah! you know La Masque, then?” + +“Not personally; but I have seen her as I did you, you remember,” + with an arch glance; “and, like you, being once seen, is not to be +forgotten.” + +Sir Norman promptly paid her for the compliment in Cupid's own coin: + +“Little flatterer! I can almost forgive Count L'Estrange for wanting +to marry you; for I presume he it only a man, and not quite equal to +impossibilities. How long is it since you knew him first?” + +“Not two months. My courtships,” said Leoline, with a gay laugh, “seem +destined to be of the shortest. He saw me one evening in the window, +and immediately insisted on being admitted; and after that, he continued +coming until I had to promise, as I have told you, to be Countess +L'Estrange.” + +“He cannot be much of a gentleman, or he would not attempt to force a +lady against her will. And so, when you were dressed for your bridal, +you found you had the plague?” + +“Yes, Sir Norman; and horrible as that was I do assure you I almost +preferred it to marrying him.” + +“Leoline, tell me how long it is since you've known me?” + +“Nearly three months,” said Leoline, blushing again celestial rosy red. + +“And how long have you loved me?” + +“Nonsense. What a question! I shall not tell you.” + +“You shall--you must--I insist upon it. Did you love me before you met +the count? Out with it.” + +“Well, then--yes!” cried Leoline desperately. + +Sir Norman raised the hand he held, in rapture to his lips: + +“My darling! But I will reserve my raptures, for it is growing late, +and I know you must want to go to rest. I have a thousand things to +tell you, but they must wait for daylight; only I will promise, before +parting, that this is the last night you must spend here.” + +Leoline opened her bright eyes very wide. + +“To-morrow morning,” went on Sir Norman, impressively, and with dignity, +“you will be up and dressed by sunrise, and shortly after that radiant +period, I will make my appearance with two horses--one of which I shall +ride, and the other I shall lead: the one I lead you shall mount, and +we will ride to the nearest church, and be married without any pomp or +pageant; and then Sir Norman and Lady Kingsley will immediately leave +London, and in Kingsley Castle, Devonshire, will enjoy the honeymoon and +blissful repose till the plague is over. Do you understand that?” + +“Perfectly,” she answered, with a radiant face. + +“And agree to it?” + +“You know I do, Sir Norman; only--” + +“Well, my pet, only what?” + +“Sir Norman, I should like to see Prudence. I want Prudence. How can I +leave her behind?” + +“My dear child, she made nothing of leaving you when she thought you +were dying; so never mind Prudence, but say, will you be ready?” + +“I will.” + +“That is my good little Leoline. Now give me a kiss, Lady Kingsley, and +good-night.” + +Lady Kingsley dutifully obeyed; and Sir Norman went out with a glow at +his heart, like a halo round a full moon. + + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE PAGE, THE FIRES, AND THE FALL. + +The night was intensely dark when Sir Norman got into it once more; and +to any one else would have been intensely dismal, but to Sir Norman all +was bright as the fair hills of Beulah. When all is bright within, we +see no darkness without; and just at that moment our young knight had +got into one of those green and golden glimpses of sunshine that here +and there checker life's rather dark pathway, and with Leoline beside +him would have thought the dreary shores of the Dead Sea itself a very +paradise. + +It was now near midnight, and there was an unusual concourse of people +in the streets, waiting for St. Paul's to give the signal to light the +fires. He looked around for Ormiston; but Ormiston was nowhere to be +seen--horse and rider had disappeared. His own horse stood tethered +where he had left him. Anxious as he was to ride back to the ruin, and +see the play played out, he could not resist the temptation of lingering +a brief period in the city, to behold the grand spectacle of the myriad +fires. Many persons were hurrying toward St. Paul's to witness it from +the dome; and consigning his horse to the care of the sentinel on guard +at the house opposite, he joined them, and was soon striding along, at +a tremendous pace, toward the great cathedral. Ere he reached it, its +long-tongued clock tolled twelve, and all the other churches, one after +another, took up the sound, and the witching hour of midnight rang and +rerang from end to end of London town. As if by magic, a thousand forked +tongues of fire shot up at once into the blind, black night, turning +almost in an instant the darkened face of the heavens to an inflamed, +glowing red. Great fires were blazing around the cathedral when they +reached it, but no one stopped to notice them, but only hurried on the +faster to gain their point of observation. + +Sir Norman just glanced at the magnificent pile--for the old St. Paul's +was even more magnificent than the new,--and then followed after the +rest, through many a gallery, tower, and spiral staircase till the dome +was reached. And there a grand and mighty spectacle was before him--the +whole of London swaying and heaving in one great sea of fire. From one +end to the other, the city seemed wrapped in sheets of flame, and every +street, and alley, and lane within it shone in a lurid radiance far +brighter than noonday. All along the river fires were gleaming, too; and +the whole sky had turned from black to blood-red crimson. The streets +were alive and swarming--it could scarcely be believed that the +plague-infested city contained half so many people, and all were +unusually hopeful and animated; for it was popularly believed that these +fires would effectually check the pestilence. But the angry fiat of a +Mighty Judge had gone forth, and the tremendous arm of the destroying +angel was not to be stopped by the puny hand of man. + +It has been said the weather for weeks was unusually brilliant, days of +cloudless sunshine, nights of cloudless moonlight, and the air was warm +and sultry enough for the month of August in the tropics. But now, +while they looked, a vivid flash of lightning, from what quarter of +the heavens no man knew, shot athwart the sky, followed by another and +another, quick, sharp, and blinding. Then one great drop of rain fell +like molten lead on the pavement, then a second and a third quicker, +faster, and thicker, until down it crashed in a perfect deluge. It did +not wait to rain; it fell in floods--in great, slanting sheets of water, +an is the very floodgates of heaven had opened for a second deluge. No +one ever remembered to have seen such torrents fall, and the populace +fled before it in wildest dismay. In five minutes, every fire, from one +extremity of London to the other, was quenched in the very blackness +of darkness, and on that night the deepest gloom and terror reigned +throughout the city. It was clear the hand of an avenging Deity was in +this, and He who had rained down fire on Sodom and Gomorrah had not lost +His might. In fifteen minutes the terrific flood was over; the dismal +clouds cleared away, a pale, fair, silver moon shone serenely out, and +looked down on the black, charred heaps of ashes strewn through the +streets of London. One by one, the stars that all night had been +obscured, glanced and sparkled over the sky, and lit up with their soft, +pale light the doomed and stricken town. Everybody had quitted the dome +in terror and consternation; and now Sir Norman, who had been lost in +awe, suddenly bethought him of his ride to the ruin, and hastened to +follow their example. Walking rapidly, not to say recklessly, along, he +abruptly knocked against some one sauntering leisurely before him, +and nearly pitched headlong on the pavement. Recovering his centre +of gravity by a violent effort, he turned to see the cause of the +collision, and found himself accosted by a musical and foreign-accented +voice. + +“Pardon,” said the sweet, and rather feminine tones; “it was quite an +accident, I assure you, monsieur. I had no idea I was in anybody's way.” + +Sir Norman looked at the voice, or rather in the direction whence it +came, and found it proceeded from a lad in gay livery, whose clear, +colorless face, dark eyes, and exquisite features were by no means +unknown. The boy seemed to recognize him at the same moment, and +slightly touched his gay cap. + +“Ah! it is Sir Norman Kingsley! Just the very person, but one, in the +world that I wanted most to see.” + +“Indeed! And, pray, whom have I the honor of addressing?” inquired Sir +Norman, deeply edified by the cool familiarity of the accoster. + +“They call me Hubert--for want of a better name, I suppose,” said +the lad, easily. “And may I ask, Sir Norman, if you are shod with +seven-leagued boots, or if your errand is one of life and death, that +you stride along at such a terrific rate?” + +“And what is that to you?” asked Sir Norman, indignant at his +free-and-easy impudence. + +“Nothing; only I should like to keep up with you, if my legs were long +enough; and as they're not, and as company is not easily to be had in +these forlorn streets, I should feel obliged to you if you would just +slacken your pace a trifle, and take me in tow.” + +The boy's face in the moonlight, in everything but expression, was +exactly that of Leoline, to which softening circumstance may be +attributed Sir Norman's yielding to the request, and allowing the page +to keep along side. + +“I've met you once before to-night?” inquired Sir Norman, after a +prolonged and wondering stare at him. + +“Yes; I have a faint recollection of seeing you and Mr. Ormiston on +London Bridge, a few hours ago, and, by the way, perhaps I may mention I +am now in search of that same Mr. Ormiston.” + +“You are! And what may you want of him, pray?” + +“Just a little information of a private character--perhaps you can +direct me to his whereabouts.” + +“Should be happy to oblige you, my dear boy, but, unfortunately, I +cannot. I want to see him myself, if I could find any one good enough to +direct me to him. Is your business pressing?” + +“Very--there is a lady in the case; and such business, you are aware, +is always pressing. Probably you have heard of her--a youthful angel, +in virgin white, who took a notion to jump into the Thames, not a great +while ago.” + +“Ah!” said Sir Norman, with a start that did not escape the quick eyes +of the boy. “And what do you want of her?” + +The page glanced at him. + +“Perhaps you know her yourself, sir Norman? If so, you will answer quite +as well as your friend, as I only want to know where she lives.” + +“I have been out of town to-night,” said Sir Norman, evasively, “and +there may have been more ladies than one jumped into the Thames during +my absence. Pray, describe your angel in white.” + +“I did not notice her particularly myself,” said the boy, with easy +indifference, “as I am not in the habit of paying much attention +to young ladies who run wild about the streets at night and jump +promiscuously into rivers. However, this one was rather remarkable, for +being dressed as a bride, having long black hair, and a great quantity +of jewelry about her, and looking very much like me. Having said she +looks like me, I need not add she is handsome.” + +“Vanity of vanities, all in vanity!” murmured Sir Norman, meditatively. +“Perhaps she is a relative of yours, Master Hubert, since you take such +an interest in her, and she looks so much like you.” + +“Not that I know of,” said Hubert, in his careless way. “I believe I +was born minus those common domestic afflictions, relatives; and I don't +take the slightest interest in her, either; don't think it!” + +“Then why are you in search of her?” + +“For a very good reason--because I've been ordered to do so.” + +“By whom--your master?” + +“My Lord Rochester,” said that nobleman's page, waving off the +insinuation by a motion of his hand and a little displeased frown; +“he picked her up adrift, and being composed of highly inflammable +materials, took a hot and vehement fancy for her, which fact he did not +discover until your friend, Mr. Ormiston, had carried her off.” + +Sir Norman scowled. + +“And so he sent you in search of her, has he?” + +“Exactly so; and now you perceive the reason why it is quite important +that I find Mr. Ormiston. We do not know where he has taken her to, but +fancy it must be somewhere near the river.” + +“You do? I tell you what it is, my boy,” exclaimed Sir Norman, suddenly +and in an elevated key, “the best thing you can do is, to go home and +go to bed, and never mind young ladies. You'll catch the plague before +you'll catch this particular young lady--I can tell you that!” + +“Monsieur is excited,” lisped the lad raising his hat and running his +taper fingers through his glossy, dark curls. “Is she as handsome as +they say she is, I wonder?” + +“Handsome!” cried Sir Norman, lighting up with quite a new sensation at +the recollection. “I tell you handsome doesn't begin to describe her! +She is beautiful, lovely, angelic, divine--” Here Sir Norman's litany of +adjectives beginning to give out, he came to a sudden halt, with a face +as radiant as the sky at sunrise. + +“Ah! I did not believe them, when they told me she was so much like +me; but if she is as near perfection as you describe, I shall begin to +credit it. Strange, is it not, that nature should make a duplicate of +her greatest earthly chef d'oeuvre?” + +“You conceited young jackanapes!” growled Sir Norman, in deep +displeasure. “It is far stranger how such a bundle of vanity can +contrive to live in this work-a-day world. You are a foreigner, I +perceive?” + +“Yes, Sir Norman, I am happy to say I am.” + +“You don't like England, then?” + +“I'd be sorry to like it; a dirty, beggarly, sickly place as I ever +saw!” + +Sir Norman eyed the slender specimen of foreign manhood, uttering this +sentiment in the sincerest of tones, and let his hand fall heavily on +his shoulder. + +“My good youth, be careful! I happen to be a native, and not altogether +used to this sort of talk. How long have you been here? Not long, I know +myself--at least, not in the Earl of Rochester's service, or I would +have seen you.” + +“Right! I have not been here a month; but that month has seemed longer +than a year elsewhere. Do you know, I imagine when the world was +created, this island of yours must have been made late on Saturday +night, and then merely thrown in from the refuse to fill up a dent in +the ocean.” + +Sir Norman paused in his walk, and contemplated the speaker a moment in +severest silence. But Master Hubert only lifted up his saucy face and +laughing black eyes, in dauntless sang froid. + +“Master Hubert,” began Master Hubert's companion, in his deepest and +sternest bass, “I don't know your other name, and it would be of no +consequence if I did--just listen to me a moment. If you don't want to +get run through (you perceive I carry a sword), and have an untimely +end put to your career, just keep a civil tongue in your head, and don't +slander England. Now come on!” + +Hubert laughed and shrugged his shoulders: + +“Thought is free, however, so I can have my own opinion in spite of +everything. Will you tell me, monsieur, where I can find the lady?” + +“You will have it, will you?” exclaimed Sir Norman, half drawing his +sword. “Don't ask questions, but answer them. Are you French?” + +“Monsieur has guessed it.” + +“How long have you been with your present master?” + +“Monsieur, I object to that term,” said Hubert, with calm dignity. +“Master is a vulgarism that I dislike; so, in alluding to his lordship, +take the trouble to say, patron.” + +Sir Norman laughed. + +“With all my heart! How long, then, have you been with your present +patron?” + +“Not quite two weeks.” + +“I do not like to be impertinently inquisitive in addressing so +dignified a gentleman, but perhaps you would not consider it too great a +liberty, if I inquired how you became his page?” + +“Monsieur shall ask as many questions as he pleases, and it shall not be +considered the slightest liberty,” said the young gentleman, politely. +“I had been roaming at large about the city and the palace of his +majesty--whom may Heaven preserve, and grant a little more wisdom!--in +search of a situation; and among that of all nobles of the court, the +Earl of Rochester's livery struck me as being the most becoming, and so +I concluded to patronize him.” + +“What an honor for his lordship! Since you dislike England so much, +however, you will probably soon throw up the situation and, patronize +the first foreign ambassador--” + +“Perhaps! I rather like Whitehall, however. Old Rowlie has taken rather +a fancy to me,” said the boy speaking with the same easy familiarity +of his majesty as he would of a lap-dog. “And what is better, so has +Mistress Stewart--so much so, that Heaven forefend the king should +become jealous. This, however, is strictly entre nous, and not to be +spoken of on any terms.” + +“Your secret shall be preserved at the risk of my life,” said Sir +Norman, laying his hand on the left side of his doublet; “and in return, +may I ask if you have any relatives living--any sisters for instance?” + +“I see! you have a suspicion that the lady in white may be a sister of +mine. Well, you may set your mind at rest on that point--for if she is, +it is news to me, as I never saw her in my life before tonight. Is she a +particular friend of yours, Sir Norman?” + +“Never you mind that, my dear boy; but take my advice, and don't trouble +yourself looking for her; for, most assuredly, if you find her, I shall +break your head!” + +“Much obliged,” said Hubert, touching his cap, “but nevertheless, I +shall risk it. She had the plague, though, when she jumped into the +river, and perhaps the best place to find her would be the pest-house. I +shall try.” + +“Go, and Heaven speed you! Yonder is the way to it, and my road lies +here. Good night, master Hubert.” + +“Good night, Sir Norman,” responded the page, bowing airily; “and if I +do not find the lady to-night, most assuredly I shall do so to-morrow.” + +Turning along a road leading to the pest-house, and laughing as he +went, the boy disappeared. Fearing lest the page should follow him, and +thereby discover a clue to Leoline's abode, Sir Norman turned into a +street some distance from the house, and waited in the shadow until he +was out of sight. Then he came forth, and, full of impatience to get +back to the ruin, hurried on to where he had left his horse. He was +still in the care of the watchman, whom he repaid for his trouble; and +as he sprang on his back, he glanced up at the windows of Leoline's +house. It was all buried in profound darkness but that one window from +which that faint light streamed, and he knew that she had not yet gone +to rest. For a moment he lingered and looked at it in the absurd way +lovers will look, and was presently rewarded by seeing what he watched +for--a shadow flit between him and the light. The sight was a strong +temptation to him to dismount and enter, and, under pretence of warning +her against the Earl of Rochester and his “pretty page,” see her +once again. But reflection, stepping rebukingly up to him, whispered +indignantly, that his ladylove was probably by this time in her night +robe, and not at home to lovers; and Sir Norman respectfully bowed to +reflection's superior wisdom. He thought of Hubert's words, “If I do +not find her tonight, I shall most assuredly to-morrow,” and a chill +presentiment of coming evil fell upon him. + +“To-morrow,” he said, as he turned to go. “Who knows what to-morrow may +bring forth! Fairest and dearest Leoline, good-night!” + +He rode away in the moonlight, with the stars shining peacefully down +upon him. His heart at the moment was a divided one--one half being +given to Leoline, and the other to the Midnight Queen and her mysterious +court. The farther he went away from Leoline, the dimmer her star became +in the horizon of his thoughts; and the nearer he came to Miranda, the +brighter and more eagerly she loomed up, until he spurred his horse to +a most furious gallop, lest he should find the castle and the queen lost +in the regions of space when he got there. Once the plague-stricken city +lay behind him, his journey was short; and soon, to his great delight, +he turned into the silent deserted by-path leading to the ruin. + +Tying his horse to a stake in the crumbling wall, he paused for a moment +to look at it in the pale, wan light of the midnight moon. He had looked +at it many a time before, but never with the same interest as now; +and the ruined battlements, the fallen roof, the broken windows, and +mouldering sides, had all a new and weird interest for him. No one was +visible far or near; and feeling that his horse was secure in the shadow +of the wall, he entered, and walked lightly and rapidly along in +the direction of the spiral staircase. With more haste, but the same +precaution, he descended, and passed through the vaults to where he knew +the loose flag-stone was. It was well he did know; for there was neither +strain of music nor ray of light to guide him now; and his heart sank +to zero as he thought he might raise the stone and discover nothing. +His hand positively trembled with eagerness as he lifted it; and with +unbounded delight, not to be described, looked down on the same titled +assembly he had watched before. But there had been a change since--half +the lights were extinguished, and the great vaulted room was +comparatively in shadow--the music had entirely died away and all was +solemnly silent. But what puzzled Sir Norman most of all was, the fact +that there seemed to be a trial of acme sort going on. + +A long table, covered with green velvet, and looking not unlike a modern +billiard table, stood at the right of the queen's crimson throne; and +behind it, perched in a high chair, and wearing a long, solemn, black +robe, sat a small, thick personage, whose skin Sir Norman would have +known on a bush. He glanced at the lower throne and found it as he +expected, empty; and he saw at once that his little highness was not +only prince consort, but also supreme judge in the kingdom. Two or three +similar black-robed gentry, among whom was recognizable the noble duke +who so narrowly escaped with his life under the swords of Sir Norman +and Count L'Estrange. Before this solemn conclave stood a man who was +evidently the prisoner under trial, and who wore the whitest and most +frightened face Sir Norman thought he had ever beheld. The queen was +lounging negligently back on her throne, paying very little attention +to the solemn rites, occasionally gossiping with some of the snow-white +sylphs beside her, and often yawning behind her pretty finger-tips, and +evidently very much bored by it all. + +The rest of the company were decorously seated in the crimson and gilded +arm-chairs, some listening with interest to what was going on, others +holding whispered tete-a-tetes, and all very still and respectful. + +Sir Norman's interest was aroused to the highest pitch; he imprudently +leaned forward too far, in order to hear and see, and lost his balance. +He felt he was going, and tried to stop himself, but in vain; and seeing +there was no help for it, he made a sudden spring, and landed right in +the midst of the assembly. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI. THE EXECUTION. + +In an instant all was confusion. Everybody sprang to their feet--ladies +shrieked in chorus, gentlemen swore and drew their swords, and looked +to see if they might not expect a whole army to drop from the sky upon +them, as they stood. No other battalion, however, followed this forlorn +hope; and seeing it, the gentlemen took heart of grace and closed around +the unceremonious intruder. The queen had sprung from her royal seat, +and stood with her bright lips parted, and her brighter eyes dilating in +speechless wonder. The bench, with the judge at their head, had followed +her example, and stood staring with all their might, looking, truth to +tell, as much startled by the sudden apparition as the fair sex. The +said fair sex were still firing off little volleys of screams in chorus, +and clinging desperately to their cavaliers; and everything, in a word, +was in most admired disorder. + +Tam O'Shanter's cry, “Weel done, Cutty sark!” could not have produced +half such a commotion among his “hellish legion” as the emphatic debut +of Sir Norman Kingsley among these human revelers. The only one who +seemed rather to enjoy it than otherwise was the prisoner, who was +quietly and quickly making off, when the malevolent and irrepressible +dwarf espied him, and the one shock acting as a counter-irritant to +the other, he bounced fleetly over the table, and grabbed him in his +crab-like claws. + +This brisk and laudable instance of self-command had a wonderful and +inspiriting effect on the rest; and as he replaced the pale and palsied +prisoner in his former position, giving him a vindictive shake and +vicious kick with his royal boots as he did so, everybody began to feel +themselves again. The ladies stopped screaming, the gentlemen ceased +swearing, and more than one exclamation of astonishment followed the +cries of terror. + +“Sir Norman Kingsley! Sir Norman Kingsley!” rang from lip to lip of +those who recognized him; and all drew closer, and looked at him as if +they really could not make up their mind to believe their eyes. As +for Sir Norman himself, that gentleman was destined literally, if not +metaphorically, to fall on his legs that night, and had alighted on +the crimson velvet-carpet, cat-like, on his feet. In reference to his +feelings--his first was one of frantic disapproval of going down; +his second, one of intense astonishment of finding himself there with +unbroken bones; his third, a disagreeable conviction that he had about +put his foot in it, and was in an excessively bad fix; and last, but +not least, a firm and rooted determination to make the beet of a bad +bargain, and never say die. + +His first act was to take off his plumed hat, and make a profound +obeisance to her majesty the queen, who was altogether too much +surprised to make the return politeness demanded, and merely stared at +him with her great, beautiful, brilliant eyes, as if she would never +have done. + +“Ladies and gentlemen!” said Sir Norman, turning gracefully to the +company; “I beg ten thousand pardons for this unwarrantable intrusion, +and promise you, upon my honor, never to do it again. I beg to assure +you that my coming here was altogether involuntary on my part, and +forced by circumstances over which I had no control; and I entreat you +will not mind me in the least, but go on with the proceeding, just as +you did before. Should you feel my presence here any restraint, I am +quite ready and willing to take my departure at any moment; and as +I before insinuated, will promise, on the honor of a gentleman and a +knight, never again to take the liberty of tumbling through the ceiling +down on your heads.” + +This reference to the ceiling seemed to explain the whole mystery; and +everybody looked up at the corner whence he came from, and saw the flag +that had been removed. As to his speech, everybody had listened to it +with the greatest of attention; and sundry of the ladies, convinced +by this time that he was flesh and blood, and no ghost, favored the +handsome young knight with divers glances, not at all displeased +or unadmiring. The queen sank back into her seat, keeping him still +transfixed with her darkly-splendid eyes; and whether she admired or +otherwise, no one could tell from her still, calm face. The prince +consort's feelings--for such there could be no doubt he was--were +involved in no such mystery; and he broke out into a hyena-like scream +of laughter, as he recognized, upon a second look, his young friend of +the Golden Crown. + +“So you have come, have you?” he cried, thrusting his unlovely visage +over the table, till it almost touched sir Norman's. “You have come, +have you, after all I said?” + +“Yes, sir I have come!” said Sir Norman, with a polite bow. + +“Perhaps you don't know me, my dear young sir--your little friend, you +know, of the Golden Crown.” + +“Oh, I perfectly recognize you! My little friend,” said Sir Norman, with +bland suavity, and unconsciously quoting Leoline, “once seen in not easy +to be-forgotten.” + +Upon this, his highness net up such another screech of mirth that it +quite woke an echo through the room; and all Sir Norman's friends looked +grave; for when his highness laughed, it was a very bad sign. + +“My little friend will hurt himself,” remarked Sir Norman, with an air +of solicitude, “if he indulges in his exuberant and gleeful spirits to +such an extent. Let me recommend you, as a well-wisher, to sit down and +compose yourself.” + +Instead of complying, however, the prince, who seemed blessed with a +lively sense of the ludicrous, was so struck with the extreme funniness +of the young man's speech, that he relaxed into another paroxysm of +levity, shriller and more unearthly, if possible, than any preceding +one, and which left him so exhausted, that he was forced to sink into +his chair and into silence through sheer fatigue. Seizing this, the +first opportunity, Miranda, with a glance of displeased dignity at +Caliban, immediately struck in: + +“Who are you, sir, and by what right do you dare to come here?” + +Her tone was neither very sweet nor suave; but it was much pleasanter +to be cross-examined by the owner of such a pretty face than by the ugly +little monster, for the moment gasping and extinguished; and Sir Norman +turned to her with alacrity, and a bow. + +“Madame, I am Sir Norman Kingsley, very much at your service; and I beg +to assure you I did not come here, but fell here, through that hole, if +you perceive, and very much against my will.” + +“Equivocation will not serve you in this case, sir,” said the queen, +with an austere dignity. “And, allow me to observe, it is just probable +you would not have fallen through that hole in our royal ceiling if you +had kept away from it. You raised that flag yourself--did you not?” + +“Madam, I fear I must say yes!” + +“And why did you do so?” demanded her majesty, with far more sharp +asperity than Sir Norman dreamed could ever come from such beautiful +lips. + +“The rumor of Queen Miranda's charms has gone forth; and I fear I must +own that rumor drew me hither,” responded Sir Norman, inventing a polite +little work of fiction for the occasion; “and, let me add, that I came +to find that rumor had under-rated instead of exaggerated her majesty's +said charms.” + +Here Sir Norman, whose spine seemed in danger of becoming the shape of +a rainbow, in excess of good breeding, made another genuflection before +the queen, with his hand over the region of his heart. Miranda tried +to look grave, and wear that expression of severe solemnity I am told +queens and rich people always do; but, in spite of herself, a little +pleased smile rippled over her face; and, noticing it, and the bow and +speech, the prince suddenly and sharply set up such another screech of +laughter as no steamboat or locomotive, in the present age of steam, +could begin to equal in ghastliness. + +“Will your highness have the goodness to hold your tongue?” inquired the +queen, with much the air and look of Mrs. Caudle, “and allow me to ask +this stranger a few questions uninterrupted? Sir Norman Kingsley, how +long have you been above there, listening and looking on?” + +“Madame, I was not there five minutes when I suddenly, and to my great +surprise, found myself here.” + +“A lie!--a lie!” exclaimed the dwarf, furiously. “It is over two hours +since I met you at the bar of the Golden Crown.” + +“My dear little friend,” said Sir Norman, drawing his sword, and +flourishing it within an inch of the royal nose, “just make that remark +again, and my sword will cleave your pretty head, as the cimetar of +Saladin clove the cushion of down! I earnestly assure you, madame, that +I had but just knelt down to look, when I discovered to my dismay, that +I was no longer there, but in your charming presence.” + +“In that case, my lords and gentlemen,” said the queen, glancing blandly +round the apartment, “he has witnessed nothing, and, therefore, merits +but slight punishment.” + +“Permit me, your majesty,” said the duke, who had read the roll of +death, and who had been eyeing Sir Norman sharply for some time, “permit +me one moment! This is the very individual who slew the Earl of Ashley, +while his companion was doing for my Lord Craven. Sir Norman Kingsley,” + said his grace, turning, with awful impressiveness to that young person, +“do you know me?” + +“Quite as well as I wish to,” answered Sir Norman, with a cool and +rather contemptuous glance in his direction. “You look extremely like a +certain highwayman, with a most villainous countenance, I encountered a +few hours back, and whom I would have made mince most of if he had not +been coward enough to fly. Probably you may be the name; you look fit +for that, or anything else.” + +“Cut him down!” “Dash his brains out!” “Run him through!” “Shoot him!” + were a few of the mild and pleasant insinuations that went off on every +side of him, like a fierce volley of pop-guns; and a score of bright +blades flashed blue and threatening on every side; while the prince +broke out into another shriek of laughter, that rang high over all. + +Sir Norman drew his own sword, and stood on the defence, breathed one +thought to Leoline, gave himself up for lost; but before quite +doing so--to use a phrase not altogether as original as it might +be--“determined to sell his life as dearly as possible.” Angry eyes and +fierce faces were on every hand, and his dreams of matrimony and Leoline +seemed about to terminate then and there, when luck came to his side, in +the shape of her most gracious majesty the queen. Springing to her feet, +she waved her sceptre, while her black eyes flashed as fiercely as the +best of them, and her voice rang out like a trumpet-tone. + +“Sheathe your swords, my lords, and back every man of you! Not one hair +of his head shall fall without my permission; and the first who lays +hands on him until that consent is given, shall die, if I have to shoot +him myself! Sir Norman Kingsley, stand near, and fear not. At his peril, +let one of them touch you!” + +Sir Norman bent on one knee, and raised the gracious hand to his lips. +At the fierce, ringing, imperious tone, all involuntarily fell back, as +if they were accustomed to obey it; and the prince, who seemed to-night +in an uncommonly facetious mood, laughed again, long and shrill. + +“What are your majesty's commands?” asked the discomfited duke, rather +sulkily. “Is this insulting interloper to go free?” + +“That is no affair of yours, my lord duke!” answered the spirited voice +of the queen. “Be good enough to finish Lord Gloucester's trial; and +until then I will be responsible for the safekeeping of Sir Norman +Kingsley.” + +“And after that, he is to go free eh, your majesty?” said the dwarf, +laughing to that extent that he ran the risk of rupturing an artery. + +“After that, it shall be precisely as I please!” replied the ringing +voice; while the black eyes flashed anything but loving glances upon +him. “While I am queen here, I shall be obeyed; when I am queen no +longer, you may do as you please! My lords” (turning her passionate, +beautiful face to the hushed audience), “am I or am I not sovereign +here!” + +“Madame, you alone are our sovereign lady and queen!” + +“Then, when I condescend to command, you shall obey! Do you, your +highness, and you, lord duke, go on with the Earl of Gloucester's trial, +and I will be the stranger's jailer.” + +“She is right,” said the dwarf, his fierce little eyes gleaming with a +malignant light; “let us do one thing before another; and after we have +settled Gloucester here, we will attend to this man's case. Guards keep +a sharp eye on your new prisoner. Ladies and gentlemen, be good enough +to resume your seats. Now, your grace, continue the trial.” + +“Where did we leave off?” inquired his grace, looking rather at a loss, +and scowling vengeance dire at the handsome queen and her handsome +protege, as he sank back in his chair of state. + +“The earl was confessing his guilt, or about to do so. Pray, my lord,” + said the dwarf, glaring upon the pallid prisoner, “were you not saying +you had betrayed us to the king?” + +A breathless silence followed the question--everybody seemed to hold +his very breath to listen. Even the queen leaned forward and awaited the +answer eagerly, and the many eyes that had been riveted on Sir Norman +since his entrance, left him now for the first time and settled on the +prisoner. A piteous spectacle that prisoner was--his face whiter than +the snowy nymphs behind the throne, and so distorted with fear, fury, +and guilt, that it looked scarcely human. Twice he opened his eyes to +reply, and twice all sounds died away in a choking gasp. + +“Do you hear his highness?” sharply inquired the lord high chancellor, +reaching over the great seal, and giving the unhappy Earl of Gloucester +a rap on the head with it, “Why do you not answer?” + +“Pardon! Pardon!” exclaimed the earl, in a husky whisper. “Do not +believe the tales they tell you of me. For Heaven's sake, spare my +life!” + +“Confess!” thundered the dwarf, striking the table with his clinched +fist, until all the papers thereon jumped spasmodically into the +air-“confess at once, or I shall run you through where you stand!” + +The earl, with a perfect screech of terror, flung himself flat upon +his face and hands before the queen, with such force, that Sir Norman +expected to see his countenance make a hole in the floor. + +“O madame! spare me! spare me! spare me! Have mercy on me as you hope +for mercy yourself!” + +She recoiled, and drew back her very garments from his touch, as if +that touch was pollution, eyeing him the while with a glance frigid and +pitiless as death. + +“There is no mercy for traitors!” she coldly said. “Confess your guilt, +and expect no pardon from me!” + +“Lift him up!” shouted the dwarf, clawing the air with his hands, as if +he could have clawed the heart out of his victim's body; “back with him +to his place, guards, and see that he does not leave it again!” + +Squirming, and writhing, and twisting himself in their grasp, in very +uncomfortable and eel-like fashion, the earl was dragged back to his +place, and forcibly held there by two of the guards, while his face grew +so ghastly and convulsed that Sir Norman turned away his head, and could +not bear to look at it. + +“Confess!” once more yelled the dwarf in a terrible voice, while his +still more terrible eyes flashed sparks of fire--“confess, or by all +that's sacred it shall be tortured out of you. Guards, bring me the +thumb-screws, and let us see if they will not exercise the dumb devil by +which our ghastly friend is possessed!” + +“No, no, no!” shrieked the earl, while the foam flew from his lips. “I +confess! I confess! I confess!” + +“Good! And what do you confess?” said the duke blandly, leaning forward, +while the dwarf fell back with a yell of laughter at the success of his +ruse. + +“I confess all--everything--anything! only spare my life!” + +“Do you confess to having told Charles, King of England, the secrets +of our kingdom and this place?” said the duke, sternly rapping down the +petition with a roll of parchment. + +The earl grew, if possible, a more ghastly white. “I do--I must! but oh! +for the love of--” + +“Never mind love,” cut in the inexorable duke, “it is a subject that +has nothing whatever to do with the present case. Did you or did you not +receive for the aforesaid information a large sum of money?” + +“I did; but my lord, my lord, spare--” + +“Which sum of money you have concealed,” continued the duke, with +another frown and a sharp rap. “Now the question is, where have you +concealed it?” + +“I will tell you, with all my heart, only spare my life!” + +“Tell us first, and we will think about your life afterward. Let me +advise you as a friend, my lord, to tell at once, and truthfully,” said +the duke, toying negligently with the thumb-screws. + +“It is buried at the north corner of the old wall at the head of +Bradshaw's grave. You shall have that and a thousandfold more if you'll +only pardon--” + +“Enough!” broke in the dwarf, with the look and tone of an exultant +demon. “That is all we want! My lord duke, give me the death-warrant, +and while her majesty signs it, I will pronounce his doom!” + +The duke handed him a roll of parchment, which he glanced critically +over, and handed to the queen for her autograph. That royal lady spread +the vellum on her knee, took the pen and affixed her signature as coolly +as if she were inditing a sonnet in an album. Then his highness, with a +face that fairly scintillated with demoniac delight, stood up and fixed +his eyes on the ghastly prisoner, and spoke in a voice that reverberated +like the tolling of a death-bell through the room. + +“My Lord of Gloucester, you have been tried by a council of your +fellow-peers, presided over by her royal self, and found guilty of high +treason. Your sentence is that you be taken hence, immediately, to the +block, and there be beheaded, in punishment of your crime.” + +His highness wound up this somewhat solemn speech, rather +inconsistently, bursting out into one of his shrillest peals of +laughter; and the miserable Earl of Gloucester, with a gasping, +unearthly cry, fell back in the arms of the attendants. Dead and +oppressive silence reigned; and Sir Norman, who half believed all along +the whole thing was a farce, began to feel an uncomfortable sense of +chill creeping over him, and to think that, though practical jokes were +excellent things in their way, there was yet a possibility of carrying +them a little too far. The disagreeable silence was first broken by the +dwarf, who, after gloating for a moment over his victim's convulsive +spasms, sprang nimbly from his chair of dignity and held out his arm for +the queen. The queen arose, which seemed to be a sign for everybody else +to do the same, and all began forming themselves in a sort of line of +march. + +“What is to be done with this other prisoner, your highness?” inquired +the duke, making a poke with his forefinger at Sir Norman. “Is he to +stay here, or is he to accompany us?” + +His highness turned round, and putting his face close up to Sir Norman's +favored him with a malignant grin. + +“You'd like to come, wouldn't you, my dear young friend?” + +“Really,” said Sir Norman, drawing back and returning the dwarf's stare +with compound interest, “that depends altogether on the nature of +the entertainment; but, at the same time, I'm much obliged to you for +consulting my inclinations.” + +This reply nearly overset his highness's gravity once more, but he +checked his mirth after the first irresistible squeal; and finding +the company were all arranged in the order of going, and awaiting his +sovereign pleasure, he turned. + +“Let him come,” he said, with his countenance still distorted by inward +merriment; “It will do him good to see how we punish offenders here, and +teach him what he is to expect himself. Is your majesty ready?” + +“My majesty has been ready and waiting for the last five minutes,” + replied the lady, over-looking his proffered hand with grand disdain, +and stepping lightly down from her throne. + +Her rising was the signal for the unseen band to strike up a grand +triumphant “Io paean,” though, had the “Rogue's March” been a popular +melody in those times, it would have suited the procession much more +admirably. The queen and the dwarf went first, and a vivid contrast they +were--she so young, so beautiful, so proud, so disdainfully cold; he so +ugly, so stunted, so deformed, so fiendish. After them went the band of +sylphs in white, then the chancellor, archbishop, and embassadors; next +the whole court of ladies and gentlemen; and after them Sir Norman, in +the custody of two of the soldiers. The condemned earl came last, or +rather allowed himself to be dragged by his four guards; for he seemed +to have become perfectly palsied and dumb with fear. Keeping time to the +triumphant march, and preserving dismal silence, the procession wound +its way along the room and through a great archway heretofore hidden +by the tapestry now lifted lightly by the nymphs. A long stone passage, +carpeted with crimson and gold, and brilliantly illuminated like +the grand saloon they had left, was thus revealed, and three similar +archways appeared at the extremity, one to the right and left, and one +directly before them. The procession passed through the one to the left, +and Sir Norman started in dismay to find himself in the most gloomy +apartment he had ever beheld in his life. It was all covered with +black--walls, ceiling, and floor were draped in black, and reminded +him forcibly of La Masque's chamber of horrors, only this was more +repellant. It was lighted, or rather the gloom was troubled, by a +few spectral tapers of black wax in ebony candlesticks, that seemed +absolutely to turn black, and make the horrible place more horrible. +There was no furniture--neither couch, chair, nor table nothing but a +sort of stage at the upper end of the room, with something that looked +like a seat upon it, and both were shrouded with the same dismal +drapery. But it was no seat; for everybody stood, arranging themselves +silently and noiselessly around the walls, with the queen and the dwarf +at their head, and near this elevation stood a tall, black statue, +wearing a mask, and leaning on a bright, dreadful, glittering axe. The +music changed to an unearthly dirge, so weird and blood-curdling, that +Sir Norman could have put his hands over his ear-drums to shut out the +ghastly sound. The dismal room, the voiceless spectators, the black +spectre with the glittering axe, the fearful music, struck a chill to +his inmost heart. + +Could it be possible they were really going to murder the unhappy +wretch? and could all those beautiful ladies--could that surpassingly +beautiful queen, stand there serenely unmoved, to witness such a crime? +While he yet looked round in horror, the doomed man, already apparently +almost dead with fear, was dragged forward by his guards. Paralyzed +as he was, at sight of the stage which he knew to be the scaffold, he +uttered shriek after shriek of frenzied despair, and struggled like +a madman to get free. But as well might Laocoon have struggled in the +folds of the serpent; they pulled him on, bound him hand and foot, and +held his head forcibly down on the block. + +The black spectre moved--the dwarf made a signal--the glittering axe was +raised--fell--a scream was cut in two--a bright jet of blood spouted up +in the soldiers faces, blinding them; the axe fell again, and the Earl +of Gloucester was minus that useful and ornamental appendage, a head. + +It was all over so quickly, that Sir Norman could scarcely believe his +horrified senses, until the deed was done. The executioner threw a black +cloth over the bleeding trunk, and held up the grizzly head by the hair; +and Sir Norman could have sworn the features moved, and the dead eyes +rolled round the room. + +“Behold!” cried the executioner, striking the convulsed face with the +palm of his open hand, “the fate of all traitors!” + +“And of all spies!” exclaimed the dwarf, glaring with his fiendish +eyes upon the appalled Sir Norman. “Keep your axe sharp and bright, Mr. +Executioner, for before morning dawns there is another gentleman here to +be made shorter by a head.” + + + + + +CHAPTER XII. DOOM. + +“Let us go,” said the queen, glancing at the revolting sight, and +turning away with a shudder of repulsion. “Faugh! The sight of blood has +made me sick.” + +“And taken away my appetite for supper,” added a youthful and elegant +beauty beside her. “My Lord Gloucester was hideous enough when living, +but, mon Dieu! he is ten times more so when dead!” + +“Your ladyship will not have the same story to tell of yonder stranger, +when he shares the same fate in an hour or two!” said the dwarf, with a +malicious grin; “for I heard you remarking upon his extreme beauty when +he first appeared.” + +The lady laughed and bowed, and turned her bright eyes upon Sir Norman. + +“True! It is almost a pity to cut such a handsome head off--is it not? I +wish I had a voice in your highness's council, and I know what I should +do.” + +“What, Lady Mountjoy?” + +“Entreat him to swear fealty, and become one of us; and--” + +“And a bridegroom for your ladyship?” suggested the queen, with a +curling lip. “I think if Sir Norman Kingsley knew Lady Mountjoy as well +as I do, he would even prefer the block to such a fate!” + +Lady Mountjoy's brilliant eyes shone like two angry meteors; but she +merely bowed and laughed; and the laugh was echoed by the dwarf in his +shrillest falsetto. + +“Does your highness intend remaining here all night?” demanded the +queen, rather fiercely. “If not, the sooner we leave this ghastly place +the better. The play is over, and supper is waiting.” + +With which the royal virago made an imperious motion for her attendant +sprites in gossamer white to precede her, and turned with her accustomed +stately step to follow. The music immediately changed from its doleful +dirge to a spirited measure, and the whole company flocked after her, +back to the great room of state. There they all paused, hovering in +uncertainty around the room, while the queen, holding her purple train +up lightly in one hand, stood at the foot of the throne, glancing at +them with her cold, haughty and beautiful eyes. In their wandering, +those same darkly-splendid eyes glanced and lighted on Sir Norman, +who, in a state of seeming stupor at the horrible scene he had just +witnessed, stood near the green table, and they sent a thrill through +him with their wonderful resemblance to Leoline's. So vividly alike were +they, that he half doubted for a moment whether she and Leoline were not +really one; but no--Leoline never could have had the cold, cruel heart +to stand and witness such a horrible sight. Miranda's dark, piercing +glance fell as haughtily and disdainfully on him as it had on the rest; +and his heart sank as he thought that whatever sympathy she had felt for +him was entirely gone. It might have been a whim, a woman's caprice, a +spirit of contradiction, that had induced her to defend him at first. +Whatever it was, and it mattered not now, it had completely vanished. No +face of marble could have been colder, or stonier, or harder, than hers, +as she looked at him out of the depths of her great dark eyes; and with +that look, his last lingering hope of life vanished. + +“And now for the next trial!” exclaimed the dwarf, briskly breaking in +upon his drab-colored meditations, and bustling past. “We will get it +over at once, and have done with it!” + +“You will do no such thing!” said the imperious voice of the queenly +shrew. “We will have neither trials nor anything else until after +supper, which has already been delayed four full minutes. My lord +chamberlain, have the goodness to step in and see that all is in order.” + +One of the gilded and decorated gentlemen whom sir Norman had mistaken +for ambassadors stepped off, in obedience, through another opening in +the tapestry--which seemed to be as extensively undermined with such +apertures as a cabman's coat with capes--and, while he was gone, the +queen stood drawn up to her full height, with her scornful face looking +down on the dwarf. That small man knit up his very plain face into a +bristle of the sourest kinks, and frowned sulky disapproval at an order +which he either would not, or dared not, countermand. Probably the +latter had most to do with it, as everybody looked hungry and mutinous, +and a great deal more eager for their supper than the life of Sir Norman +Kingsley. + +“Your majesty, the royal banquet is waiting,” insinuated the lord high +chamberlain, returning, and bending over until his face and his shoe +buckles almost touched. + +“And what is to be done with this prisoner, while we are eating it?” + growled the dwarf, looking drawn swords at his liege lady. + +“He can remain here under care of the guards, can he not?” she retorted +sharply. “Or, if you are afraid they are not equal to taking care of +him, you had better stay and watch him yourself.” + +With which answer, her majesty sailed majestically away, leaving the +gentleman addressed to follow or not, as he pleased. It pleased him to +do so, on the whole; and he went after her, growling anathemas between +his royal teeth, and evidently in the same state of mind that induces +gentlemen in private life to take sticks to their aggravating spouses, +under similar circumstances. However, it might not be just the thing, +perhaps, for kings and queens to take broom-sticks to settle their +little differences of opinion, like common Christians; and so the prince +peaceably followed her, and entered the salle a manger with the rest, +and Sir Norman and his keepers were left in the hall of state, monarchs +of all they surveyed. Notwithstanding he knew his hours were numbered, +the young knight could not avoid feeling curious, and the tapestry +having been drawn aside, he looked through the arch with a good deal of +interest. + +The apartment was smaller than the one in which he stood--though still +very large, and instead of being all crimson and gold, was glancing and +glittering with blue and silver. These azure hangings were of satin, +instead of velvet, and looked quite light and cool, compared to the hot, +glowing place where he was. The ceiling was spangled over with silver +stars, with the royal arms quartered in the middle, and the chairs were +of white, polished wood, gleaming like ivory, and cushioned with blue +satin. The table was of immense length, as it had need to be, and +flashed and sparkled in the wax lights with heaps of gold and silver +plate, cut-glass, and precious porcelain. Golden and crimson wines +shone in the carved decanters; great silver baskets of fruit were strewn +about, with piles of cakes and confectionery--not to speak of more solid +substantials, wherein the heart of every true Englishman delighteth. +The queen sat in a great, raised chair at the head, and helped herself +without paying much attention to anybody, and the remainder were ranged +down its length, according to their rank--which, as they were all pretty +much dukes and duchesses, was about equal. + +The spirits of the company--depressed for a moment by the unpleasant +little circumstance of seeing one of their number beheaded--seemed to +revive under the spirituous influence of sherry, sack, and burgundy; and +soon they were laughing, and chatting, and hobnobbing, as animatedly as +any dinner-party Sir Norman had ever seen. The musicians, too, appeared +to be in high feather, and the merriest music of the day assisted the +noble banqueters' digestion. + +Under ordinary circumstances, it was rather a tantalizing scene to +stand aloof and contemplate; and so the guards very likely felt; but Sir +Norman's thoughts were of that room in black, the headsman's axe, and +Leoline. He felt he would never see her again--never see the sun rise +that was to shine on their bridal; and he wondered what she would think +of him, and if she was destined to fall into the hands of Lord Rochester +or Count L'Estrange. As a general thing, our young friend was not given +to melancholy moralizing, but in the present case, with the headsman's +axe poised like the sword of Damocles above him by a single hair, he may +be pardoned for reflecting that this world is all a fleeting show, and +that he had got himself into a scrape, to which the plague was a trifle. +And yet, with nervous impatience, he wished the dinner and his trial +were over, his fate sealed, and his life ended at once, since it was to +be ended soon. For the fulfillment of the first wish, he had not long +to wait; the feast, though gay and grand, was of the briefest, and they +could have scarcely been half an hour gone when they were all back. + +Everybody seemed in better humor, too, after the refection, but the +queen and the dwarf--the former looked colder, and harder, and more +like a Labrador iceberg tricked out in purple velvet, than ever, and his +highness was grinning from ear to ear--which was the very worst possible +sign. Not even her majesty could make the slightest excuse for delaying +the trial now; and, indeed, that eccentric lady seemed to have no wish +to do so, had she the power, but seated herself in silent disdain of +them all, and dropping her long lashes over her dark eyes, seemed to +forget there was anybody in existence but herself. + +His highness and his nobles took their stations of authority behind +the green table, and summoned the guards to lead the prisoner up before +them, which was done; while the rest of the company were fluttering down +into their seats, and evidently about to pay the greatest attention. +The cases in this midnight court seemed to be conducted on a decidedly +original plan, and with an easy rapidity that would have electrified any +other court, ancient or modern. Sir Norman took his stand, and eyed his +judges with a look half contemptuous, half defiant; and the proceedings +commenced by the dwarf a leaning forward and breaking into a roar of +laughter, right in his face. + +“My little friend I warned you before not to be so facetious,” said +Sir Norman, regarding him quietly; “a rush of mirth to the brain will +certainly be the death of you one of these day.” + +“No levity, young man!” interposed the lord chancellor, rebukingly; +“remember, you are addressing His Royal Highness Prince Caliban, Spouse, +and Consort of Her Most Gracious Majesty, Miranda!” + +“Indeed! Then all I have to say, is, that her majesty has very bad taste +in the selection of a husband, unless, indeed, her wish was to marry +the ugliest man in the world, as she herself is the most beautiful of +women!” + +Her majesty took not the slightest notice of this compliment, not so +much as a flatter of her drooping eye-lashes betrayed that she even +heard it, but his highness laughed until he was perfectly hoarse. + +“Silence!” shouted the duke, shocked and indignant at this glaring +disrespect, “and answer truthfully the questions put to you. Your name, +you say, is Sir Norman Kingsley?” + +“Yes. Has your grace any objection to it?” + +His grace waved down the interruption with a dignified wave of the hand, +and went on with severe judicial dignity. + +“You are the same who shot Lord Ashley between this and the city, some +hours ago?” + +“I had the pleasure of shooting a highwayman there, and my only regret +is, I did not perform the same good office by his companion, in the +person of your noble self, before you turned and fled.” + +A slight titter ran round the room, and the duke turned crimson. + +“These remarks are impertinent, and not to the purpose. You are the +murderer of Lord Ashley, let that suffice. Probably you were on your way +hither when you did the deed?” + +“He was,” said the dwarf, vindictively. “I met him at the Golden Crown +but a short time after.” + +“Very well, that is another point settled, and either of them is strong +enough to seal his death warrant. You came here as a spy, to see and +hear and report--probably you were sent by King Charles?” + +“Probably--just think as you please about it!” said Sir Norman, who knew +his case was as desperate as it could be, and was quite reckless what he +answered. + +“You admit that you are a spy, then?” + +“No such thing. I have owned nothing. As I told you before, you are +welcome to put what construction you please on my actions.” + +“Sir Norman Kingsley, this is nonsensical equivocation! You own you came +to hear and see?” + +“Well!” + +“Well, hearing and seeing constitute spying, do they not? Therefore, you +are a spy.” + +“I confess it looks like it. What next?” + +“Need you ask What is the fate of all spies?” + +“No matter what they are in other places, I am pretty certain what they +are here!” + +“And that is?” + +“A room in black, and a chop with an axe--the Earl of Gloucester's fate, +in a word!” + +“You have said it! Have you any reason why such a sentence should not be +pronounced on you?” + +“None; pronounce it as soon as you like.” + +“With the greatest pleasure!” said the duke, who had been scrawling on +another ominous roll of vellum, and now passed it to the dwarf. “I never +knew anyone it gave me more delight to condemn. Will your highness pass +that to her majesty for signature, and pronounce his sentence.” + +His highness, with a grin of most exquisite delight, did as directed; +and Sir Norman looked steadfastly at the queen as she received it. One +of the gauzy nymphs presented it to her, kneeling, and she took it with +a look half bored, half impatient, and lightly scrawled her autograph. +The long, dark lashes did not lift; no change passed over the calm, cold +face, as icily placid as a frozen lake in the moonlight--evidently the +life or death of the stranger was less than nothing to her. To him she, +too, was as nothing, or nearly so; but yet there was a sharp jarring +pain at his heart, as he saw that fair hand, that had saved him once, so +coolly sign his death warrant now. But there was little time left for to +watch her; for, as she pushed it impatiently away, and relapsed into her +former proud listlessness, the dwarf got up with one of his death's-head +grins, and began: + +“Sir Norman Kingsley, you have been tried and convicted as a spy, and +the paid-hireling of the vindictive and narrow-minded Charles; and the +sentence of this court, over which I have the honor to preside, is, that +you be taken hence immediately to the place of execution, and there lose +your head by the axe!” + +“And a mighty small loss it will be!” remarked the duke to himself, in a +sort of parenthesis, as the dwarf concluded his pleasant observation +by thrusting himself forward across the table, after his rather +discomposing fashion, and breaking out into one of his diabolical +laughter-claps. + +The queen, who had been sitting passive, and looking as if she were in +spirit a thousand miles away, now started up with sharp suddenness, and +favored his highness with one of her fieriest fiery glances. + +“Will your highness just permit somebody else to have a voice in that +matter? How many more trials are to come on tonight?” + +“Only one,” replied the duke, glancing over a little roll which he held; +“Lady Castlemaine's, for poisoning the Duchess of Sutherland.” + +“And what is my Lady Castlemaine's fate to be?” + +“The same as our friend's here, in all probability,” nodding easily, not +to say playfully, at Sir Norman. + +“And how long will her trial last?” + +“Half an hour, or thereabouts. There are some secrets in the matter that +have to be investigated, and which will require some time.” + +“Then let all the trials be over first, and all the beheadings take +place together. We don't choose to take the trouble of traveling to the +Black Chamber just to see his head chopped off, and then have the same +journey to undergo half an hour after, for a similar purpose. Call Lady +Castlemaine, and let this prisoner be taken to one of the dungeons, and +there remain until the time for execution. Guards, do you hear? Take him +away!” + +The dwarf's face grew black as a thunder-cloud, and he jumped to his +feet and confronted the queen with a look so intensely ugly that no +other earthly face could have assumed it. But that lady merely met it +with one of cold disdain and aversion, and, keeping her dark bright eyes +fixed chillingly upon him, waved her white hand, in her imperious way, +to the guards. Those warlike gentlemen knew better than to disobey her +most gracious majesty when she happened to be, like Mrs. Joe Gargary, on +the “rampage,” which, if her flashing eye and a certain expression about +her handsome mouth spoke the truth, must have been twenty hours out of +the twenty-four. As the soldiers approached to lead him away, Sir Norman +tried to catch her eye; but in vain, for she kept those brilliant optics +most unwinkingly fixed on the dwarf's face. + +“Call Lady Castlemaine,” commanded the duke, as Sir Norman with his +guards passed through the doorway leading to the Black Chamber. “Your +highness, I presume, is ready to attend to her case.” + +“Before I attend to hers or any one else's case,” said the dwarf, +hopping over the table like an overgrown toad, “I will first see that +this guest of ours is properly taken care, of, and does not leave us +without the ceremony of saying good-bye.” + +With which, he seized one of the wax candles, and trotted, with rather +unprincely haste, after Sir Norman and his conductors. The young knight +had been led down the same long passage he had walked through before; +but instead of entering the chamber of horrors, they passed through the +centre arch, and found themselves in another long, vaulted corridor, +dimly lit by the glow of the outer one. It was as cold and dismal a +place, Sir Norman thought, as he had ever seen; and it had an odor damp +and earthy, and of the grave. It had two or three great, ponderous doors +on either side, fastened with huge iron bolts; and before one of these +his conductors paused. Just as they did so, the glimmer of the dwarf's +taper pierced the gloom, and the next moment, smiling from ear to ear, +he was by their side. + +“Down with the bars!” he cried. “This is the one for him--the strongest +and safest of them all. Now, my dashing courtier, you will see how +tenderly your little friend provides for his favorites!” + +If Sir Norman made any reply, it was drowned in the rattle and clank +of the massive bars, and is hopelessly lost to posterity. The huge door +swung back; but nothing was visible but a sort of black velvet pall, and +effluvia much stronger than sweet. Involuntarily he recoiled as one of +the guards made a motion for him to enter. + +“I Shove him in! shove him in!” shrieked the dwarf, who was getting so +excited with glee that he was dancing about in a sort of jig of delight. +“In with him--in with him! If he won't go peaceably, kick him in +head-foremost!” + +“I would strongly advise them not to try it,” said Sir Norman, as he +stepped into the blackness, “if they have any regard for their health! +It does not make much difference after all, my little friend, whether +I spend the next half-hour in the inky blackness of this place or the +blood-red grandeur of your royal court. My little friend, until we meet +again, permit me to say, au revoir.” + +The dwarf laughed in his pleasant way, and pushed the candle cautiously +inside the door. + +“Good-by for a little while, my dear young sir, and while the headsmen +is sharpening his axe, I'll leave you to think about your little friend. +Lest you should lack amusement, I'll leave you a light to contemplate +your apartment; and for fear you may get lonesome, these two gentlemen +will stand outside your door, with their swords drawn, till I come back. +Good-by, my dear young sir--good-bye!” + +The dungeon-door swung to with a tremendous bang Sir Norman was barred +in his prison to await his doom and the dwarf was skipping along the +passage with sprightliness, laughing as he went. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. ESCAPED. + +Probably not one of you; my dear friends, who glance graciously over +this, was ever shut up in a dungeon under expectation of bearing the +unpleasant operation of decapitation within half an hour. It never +happened to myself, either, that I can recollect; so, of course, you +or I personally can form no idea what the sensation may be like; but +in this particular case, tradition saith Sir Norman Kingsley's state +of mind was decidedly depressed. As the door shut violently, he leaned +against it, and listened to his jailers place the great bars into their +sockets, and felt he was shut in, in the dreariest, darkest, dismalest, +disagreeablest place that it had ever been his misfortune to enter. +He thought of Leoline, and reflected that in all probability she was +sleeping the sleep of the just--perhaps dreaming of him, and little +knowing that his head was to be cut off in half an hour. + +In course of time morning would come--it was not likely the ordinary +course of nature would be cut off because he was; and Leoline would get +up and dress herself, and looking a thousand times prettier than ever, +stand at the window and wait for him. Ah! she might wait--much good +would it do her; about that time he would probably be--where? It was a +rather uncomfortable question, but easily answered, and depressed him to +a very desponding degree indeed. + +He thought of Ormiston and La Masque--no doubt they were billing and +cooing in most approved fashion just then, and never thinking of him; +though, but for La Masque and his own folly, he might have been half +married by this time. He thought of Count L'Estrange and Master Hubert, +and become firmly convinced, if one did not find Leoline the other +would; and each being equally bad, it was about a toss up in agony which +got her. + +He thought of Queen Miranda, and of the adage, “put no trust in +princes,” and sighed deeply as he reflected what a bad sign of human +nature it was--more particularly such handsome human nature--that she +could, figuratively speaking, pat him on the back one moment, and kick +him to the scaffold the next. He thought, dejectedly, what a fool he +was ever to have come back; or even having come back, not to have +taken greater pains to stay up aloft, instead of pitching abruptly +head-foremost into such a select company without an invitation. He +thought, too, what a cold, damp, unwholesome chamber they had lodged him +in, and how apt he would be to have a bad attack of ague and miasmatic +fever, if they would only let him live long enough to enjoy those +blessings. And this having brought him to the end of his melancholy +meditation, he began to reflect how he could best amuse himself in +the interim, before quitting this vale of tears. The candle was still +blinking feebly on the floor, shedding tears of wax in its feeble +prostration, and it suddenly reminded him of the dwarf's advice to +examine his dark bower of repose. So he picked it up and snuffed it with +his fingers, and held it aloof, much as Robinson Crusoe held the brand +in the dark cavern with the dead goat. + +In the velvet pall of blackness before alluded to, its small, wan ray +pierced but a few inches, and only made the darkness visible. But Sir +Norman groped his way to the wall, which he found to be all over green +and noisome slime, and broken out into a cold, clammy perspiration, as +though it were at its last gasp. By the aid of his friendly light, for +which he was really much obliged--a fact which, had his little friend +known, he would not have left it--he managed to make the circuit of his +prison, which he found rather spacious, and by no means uninhabited; for +the walls and floor were covered with fat, black beetles, whole +families of which interesting specimens of the insect-world he crunched +remorselessly under foot, and massacred at every step; and great, +depraved-looking rats, with flashing eyes and sinister-teeth, who made +frantic dives and rushes at him, and bit at his jack-boots with fierce, +fury. These small quadrupeds reminded him forcibly of the dwarf, +especially in the region of the eyes and the general expression of +countenance; and he began to reflect that if the dwarf's soul (supposing +him to possess such an article as that, which seemed open to debate) +passed after death into the body of any other animal, it would certainly +be into that of a rat. + +He had just come to this conclusion, and was applying the flame of the +candle to the nose of an inquisitive beetle, when it struck him he +heard voices in altercation outside his door. One, clear, ringing, and +imperious, yet withal feminine, was certainly not heard for the first +time; and the subdued and respectful voices that answered, were those of +his guards. + +After a moment, he heard the sound of the withdrawing bolts, and his +heart beat fast. Surely, his half-hour had not already expired; and +if it had, would she be the person to conduct him to death? The door +opened; a puff of wind extinguished his candle, but not until he had +caught the glimmer of jewels, the shining of gold, and the flutter of +long, black hair; and then some one came in. The door was closed; the +bolts shot back!--and he was alone with Miranda, the queen. + +There was no trouble about recognising her, for she carried in her hand +a small lamp, which she held up between them, that its rays might fall +directly on both faces. Each was rather white, perhaps, and one +heart was going faster than it had ever gone before, and that one was +decidedly not the queen's. She was dressed exactly as he had seen her, +in purple and ermine, in jewels and gold; and strangely out of place she +looked there, in her splendid dress and splendid beauty, among the black +beetles and rats. Her face might have been a dead, blank wall, or cut +out of cold, white stone, for all it expressed; and as she lightly held +up her rich robes in one hand, and in the other bore the light, the +dark, shining eyes were fixed on his face, and were as barren of +interest, eagerness, compassion, tenderness, or any other feeling, as +the shining, black glass ones of a wax doll. So they stood looking at +each other for some ten seconds or so, and then, still looking full at +him, Miranda spoke, and her voice was as clear and emotionless as her +eyes, + +“Well, Sir Norman Kingsley, I have come to see you before you die.” + +“Madame,” he stammered, scarcely knowing what he said, “you are kind.” + +“Am I? Perhaps you forget I signed your death-warrant.” + +“Probably it would have been at the risk of your own life to refuse?” + +“Nothing of the kind! Not one of them would hurt a hair of my head if I +refused to sign fifty death-warrants! Now, am I kind?” + +“Very likely it would have amounted to the same thing in the end--they +would kill me whether you signed it or not; so what does it matter?” + +“You are mistaken! They would not kill you; at least, not tonight, if +I had not signed it. They would have let you live until their next +meeting, which will be this night week; and I would have incurred +neither risk nor danger by refusing.” + +Sir Norman glanced round the dungeon and shrugged his shoulders. + +“I do not know that that prospect is much more inviting than the present +one. Even death is preferable to a week's imprisonment in a place like +this.” + +“But in the meantime you might have escaped.” + +“Madame, look at this stone floor, that stone roof, these solid walls, +that barred and massive door; reflect that I am some forty feet under +ground--cannot perform impossibilities, and then ask yourself how?” + +“Sir Norman, have you ever heard of good fairies visiting brave knights +and setting them free?” + +Sir Norman smiled. + +“I am afraid the good fairies and brave knights went the way of +all flesh with King Arthur's round table; and even if they were in +existence, none of them would take the trouble to limp down so far to +save such an unlucky dog as I.” + +“Then you forgive me for what I have done?” + +“Your majesty, I have nothing to forgive.” + +“Bah!” she said, scornfully. “Do not mock me here. My majesty, forsooth! +you have but fifteen minutes to live in this world, Sir Norman; and +if you have no better way of spending them, I will tell you a strange +story--my own, and all about this place.” + +“Madame, there is nothing in the world I would like so much to hear.” + +“You shall hear it, then, and it may beguile the last slow moments of +time before you go out into eternity.” + +She set her lamp down on the floor among the rats and beetles, and stood +watching the small, red flame a moment with a gloomy, downcast eye; and +Sir Norman, gazing on the beautiful darkening face, so like and yet so +unlike Leoline, stood eagerly awaiting what was to come. + +Meantime, the half-hour sped. In the crimson court the last trial was +over, and Lady Castlemaine, a slender little beauty of eighteen stood +condemned to die. + +“Now for our other prisoner!” exclaimed the dwarf with sprightly +animation; “and while I go to the cell, you, fair ladies, and you my +lord, will seek the black chamber and await our coming there.” + +Ordering one of his attendants to precede him with a light, the dwarf +skipped jauntily away, to gloat over his victim. He reached the dungeon +door, which the guards, with some trepidation in their countenance, as +they thought of what his highness would say when he found her majesty +locked in with the prisoner, threw open. + +“Come forth, Sir Norman Kingsley!” shouted the dwarf, rushing in. “Come +forth and meet your doom!” + +But no Sir Norman Kingsley obeyed the pleasant invitation, and a dull +echo from the darkness alone answered him. There was a lamp burning on +the floor, and near it lay a form, shining and specked with white in the +gloom. He made for it between fear and fury, but there was something +red and slippery on the ground, in which his foot slipped, and he +fell. Simultaneously there was a wild cry from the two guards and the +attendant, that was echoed by a perfect screech of rage from the dwarf, +as on looking down he beheld Queen Miranda lying on the floor in the +pool of blood, and apparently quite dead, and Sir Norman Kingsley gone. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. IN THE DUNGEON. + +The interim between Miranda setting down her lamp on the dungeon floor +among the rats and the beetles, and the dwarf's finding her bleeding +and senseless, was not more than twenty minutes, but a great deal may be +done in twenty minutes judiciously expended, and most decidedly it was +so in the present case. Both rats and beetles paused to contemplate the +flickering lamp, and Miranda paused to contemplate them, and Sir +Norman paused to contemplate her, for an instant or so in silence. Her +marvelous resemblance to Leoline, in all but one thing, struck him more +and more--there was the same beautiful transparent colorless complexion, +the same light, straight, graceful figure, the same small oval delicate +features; the same profuse waves of shining dark hair, the same large, +dark, brilliant eyes; the same, little, rosy pretty mouth, like one of +Correggio's smiling angels. The one thing wanting was expression--in +Leoline's face there was a kind of childlike simplicity; a look half +shy, half fearless, half solemn in her wonderful eyes; but in this, +her prototype, there was nothing shy or solemn; all was cold, hard, and +glittering, and the brooding eyes were full of a dull, dusky fire. She +looked as hard and cold and bitter, as she was beautiful; and Sir Norman +began to perplex himself inwardly as to what had brought her here. +Surely not sympathy, for nothing wearing that face of stone, could +even know the meaning of such a word. While he looked at her, half +wonderingly, half pityingly, half tenderly--a queer word that last, +but the feeling was caused by her resemblance to Leoline--she had been +moodily watching an old gray rat, the patriarch of his tribe, who was +making toward her in short runs, stopping between each one to stare at +her, out of his unpleasantly bright eyes. Suddenly, Miranda shut +her teeth, clenched her hands, and with a sort of fierce suppressed +ejaculation, lifted her shining foot and planted it full on the rat's +head. So sudden, so fierce, and so strong, was the stamp, that the +rat was crushed flat, and uttered a sharp and indignant squeal of +expostulation, while Sir Norman looked at her, thinking she had lost her +wits. Still she ground it down with a fiercer and stronger force every +second; and with her eyes still fixed upon it, and blazing with reddish +black flame, she said, in a sort of fiery hiss: + +“Look at it! The ugly, loathsome thing! Did you ever see anything look +more like him?” + +There must have been some mysterious rapport between them, for he +understood at once to whom the solitary personal pronoun referred. + +“Certainly, in the general expression of countenance there is rather a +marked resemblance, especially in the region of the teeth and eyes.” + +“Except that the rat's eyes are a thousand times handsomer,” she broke +in, with a derisive laugh. + +“But as to shape,” resumed Sir Norman, eyeing the excited and +astonished little animal, still shrilly squealing, with the glance of +a connoisseur, “I confess I do not see it! The rat is straight and +shapely--which his highness, with all reverence be it said--is not, but +rather the reverse, if you will not be offended at me for saying so.” + +She broke into a short laugh that had a hard, metallic ring, and then +her face darkened, blackened, and she ground the foot that crushed the +rat fiercer, and with a sort of passionate vindictiveness, as if she had +the head of the dwarf under her heel. + +“I hate him! I hate him!” she said, through her clenched teeth and +though her tone was scarcely above a whisper, it was so terrible in its +fiery earnestness that Sir Norman thrilled with repulsion. “Yes, I hate +him with all my heart and soul, and I wish to heaven I had him here, +like this rat, to trample to death under my feet!” + +Not knowing very well what reply to make to this strong and heartfelt +speech, which rather shocked his notions of female propriety, Sir Norman +stood silent, and looked reflectively after the rat, which, when she +permitted it at last to go free, limped away with an ineffably sneaking +and crest-fallen expression on his hitherto animated features. She +watched it, too, with a gloomy eye, and when it crawled into the +darkness and was gone, she looked up with a face so dark and moody that +it was almost sullen. + +“Yes, I hate him!” she repeated, with a fierce moodiness that was quite +dreadful, “yes, I hate him! and I would kill him, like that rat, if I +could! He has been the curse of my whole life; he has made life cursed +to me; and his heart's blood shall be shed for it some day yet, I +swear!” + +With all her beauty there was something so horrible in the look she +wore, that Sir Norman involuntarily recoiled from her. Her sharp eyes +noticed it, and both grew red and fiery as two devouring flames. + +“Ah! you, too, shrink from me, would you? You, too, recoil in horror! +Ingrate! And I have come to save your life!” + +“Madame, I recoil not from you, but from that which is tempting you +to utter words like these. I have no reason to love him of whom you +speak--you, perhaps, have even less; but I would not have his blood, +shed in murder, on my head, for ten thousand worlds! Pardon me, but you +do not mean what you say.” + +“Do I not? That remains to be seen! I would not call it murder plunging +a knife into the heart of a demon incarnate like that, and I would have +done it long ago and he knows it, too, if I had the chance!” + +“What has he done to you to make you do bitter against him?” + +“Bitter! Oh, that word is poor and pitiful to express what I feel when +his name is mentioned. Loathing and hatred come a little nearer the +mark, but even they are weak to express the utter--the--” She stopped in +a sort of white passion that choked her very words. + +“They told me he was your husband,” insinuated Sir Norman, unutterably +repelled. + +“Did they?” she said, with a cold sneer, “he is, too--at least as far as +church and state can make him; but I am no more his wife at heart than +I am Satan's. Truly of the two I should prefer the latter, for then I +should be wedded to something grand--a fallen angel; as it is, I have +the honor to be wife to a devil who never was an angel?” + +At this shocking statement Sir Norman looked helplessly round, as if +for relief; and Miranda, after a moment's silence, broke into another +mirthless laugh. + +“Of all the pictures of ugliness you ever saw or heard of, Sir Norman +Kingsley, do tell me if there ever was one of them half so repulsive or +disgusting as that thing?” + +“Really,” said Sir Norman, in a subdued tone, “he is not the most +prepossessing little man in the world; but, madame, you do look and +speak in a manner quite dreadful. Do let me prevail on you to calm +yourself, and tell me your story, as you promised.” + +“Calm myself!” repeated the gentle lady, in a tone half snappish, half +harsh, “do you think I am made of iron, to tell you my story and be +calm? I hate him! I hate him! I would kill him if I could: and if you, +Sir Norman, are half the man I take you to be, you will rid the world of +the horrible monster before morning dawns!” + +“My dear lady, you seem to forget that the case is reversed, and that he +is going to rid the world of me,” said Sir Norman, with a sigh. + +“No, not if you do as I tell you; and when I have told you how much +cause I have to abhor him, you will agree with me that killing him will +be no murder! Oh, if there is One above who rules this world, and will +judge us all, why, why does He permit such monsters to live?” + +“Because He is more merciful than his creatures,” replied Sir Norman, +with calm reverence,--“though His avenging hand is heavy on this doomed +city. But, madame, time is on the wing, and the headsman will be here +before your story is told.” + +“Ah, that story! How am I to tell it, I wonder, two words will comprise +it all--sin and misery--misery and sin! For, buried alive here, as I +am--buried alive, as I've always been--I know what both words mean; +they have been branded on heart and brain in letters of fire. And that +horrible monstrosity is the cause of all--that loathsome, misshapen, +hideous abortion has banned and cursed my whole life! He is my +first recollection. As far back as I can look through the dim eye of +childhood's years, that horrible face, that gnarled and twisted trunk, +those devilish eyes glare at me like the eyes and face of a wild beast. +As memory grows stronger and more vivid, I can see that same face +still--the dwarf! the dwarf! the dwarf!--Satan's true representative on +earth, darkening and blighting ever passing year. I do not know where we +lived, but I imagine it to have been one of the vilest and lowest dens +in London, though the rooms I occupied were, for that matter, decent and +orderly enough. Those rooms the daylight never entered, the windows +were boarded up within, and fastened by shutters without, so that of the +world beyond I was as ignorant as a child of two hours old. I saw but +two human faces, his”--she seemed to hate him too much even to pronounce +his name--“and his housekeeper's, a creature almost as vile as himself, +and who is now a servant here; and with this precious pair to guard me +I grew up to be fifteen years old. My outer life consisted of eating, +sleeping, reading--for the wretch taught me to read--playing with my +dogs and birds, and listening to old Margery's stories. But there was +an inward life, fierce and strong, as it was rank and morbid, lived and +brooded over alone, when Margery and her master fancied me sleeping in +idiotic content. How were they to know that the creature they had reared +and made ever had a thought of her own--ever wondered who she was, where +she came from, what she was destined to be, and what lay in the great +world beyond? The crooked little monster made a great mistake in +teaching me to read, he should have known that books sow seed that grow +up and flourish tall and green, till they become giants in strength. +I knew enough to be certain there was a bright and glad world without, +from which they shut me in and debarred me; and I knew enough to hate +them both for it, with a strong and heartfelt hatred, only second to +what I feel now.” + +She stopped for a moment, and fixed her dark, gloomy eyes on the +swarming floor, and shook off, with out a shudder, the hideous things +that crawled over her rich dress. She had scarcely looked at Sir Norman +since she began to speak, but he had done enough looking for them both, +never once taking his eyes from the handsome darkening face. He thought +how strangely like her story was to Leoline's--both shut in and isolated +from the outer world. Verily, destiny seemed to have woven the woof and +warp of their fates wonderfully together, for their lives were as +much the same as their faces. Miranda, having shook off her crawling +acquaintances, watched them glancing along the foul floor in the +darkness, and went moodily on. + +“It was three years ago when I was fifteen years old, as I told you, +that a change took place in my life. Up to that time, that miserable +dwarf was what people would call my guardian, and did not trouble me +much with his heavenly company. He was a great deal from our house, +sometimes absent for weeks together; and I remember I used to envy the +freedom with which he came and went, far more than I ever wondered where +he spent his precious time. I did not know then that he belonged to +the honorable profession of highwaymen, with variations of coining when +travelers were few and money scarce. He was then, and is still, at +the head of a formidable gang, over whom he wields most desperate +authority--as perhaps you have noticed during the brief and pleasant +period of your acquaintance.” + +“Really, madam, it struck me that your authority over them was much more +despotic than his,” said Sir Norman, in all sincerity, feeling called +upon to give the--well, I'd rather not repeat the word, which is +generally spelled with a d and a dash--his due. + +“No thanks to him for that! He would make me a slave now, as he did +then, if he dared, but he has found that, poor, trodden worm as I was, I +had life enough left to turn and sting.” + +“Which you do with a vengeance! Oh! you're a Tartar!” remarked Sir +Norman to himself. “The saints forefend that Leoline should be like +you in temper, as she is in history and face; for if she is, my life +promises to be a pleasant one.” + +“This rascally crew of cut-throats, whom his villainous highness +headed,” said Miranda, “were an almost immense number then, being +divided in three bodies--London cut-purses, Hounslow Heath highwaymen, +and assistant-coiners, but all owning him for their lord and master. +He told me all this himself, one day when, in an after-dinner and most +gracious mood, he made a boasting display of his wealth and greatness; +told me I was growing up very pretty indeed, and that I was shortly to +be raised to the honor and dignity, and bliss of being his wife. + +“I fancy I must have had a very vague idea of what that one small word +meant, and was besides in an unusually contented and peaceful state +of mind, or I should, undoubtedly, have raised one of his cut-glass +decanters and smashed in his head with it. I know how I should receive +such an assertion from him now, but I think I took it then with a +resignation, he must have found mighty edifying; and when he went on +to tell me that all this richness and greatness were to be shared by +me when that celestial time came, I think I rather liked the idea than +otherwise. The horrible creature seemed to have woke up that day, for +the first time, and all of a sudden, to a conviction that I was in a +fair way to become a woman, and rather a handsome one, and that he had +better make sure of me before any accident interfered to take me from +him. Full of this laudable notion, he became a daily visitor of mine +from thenceforth, and made the discovery, simultaneously with myself, +that the oftener he came the less favor he found in my sight. I had, +before, tacitly disliked him, and shrank with a natural repulsion +from his dreadful ugliness; but now, from negative dislike, I grew to +positive hate. The utter loathing and abhorrence I have had for him ever +since, began then--I grew dimly and intuitively conscious of what he +would make me, and shrank from my fate with a vague horror not to be +told in words. I became strong in my fearful dread of it. I told him I +detested, abhorred, loathed, hated him; that he might keep his riches, +greatness, and ungainly self for those who wanted him; they were +temptations too weak to move me. + +“Of course, there was raving, and storming, threatening, terrible looks +and denunciations, and I quailed and shrank like a coward, but was +obstinate still. Then as a dernier resort, he tried another bribe--the +glorious one of liberty, the one he knew would conquer me, and it did. +He promised me freedom--if I married him, I might go out into the +great unknown world, fetterless and free; and I, O! fool that I was! +consented. Not that my object was to stay with him one instant longer +her my prison doors were opened; no, I was not quite so besotted as +that--once out, and the little demon might look for me with last year's +partridges. Of course, those demoniac eyes read my heart like an +open book; and when I pronounced the fatal 'yes,' he laughed in that +delightful way of his own, which will probably be the last thing you +will hear when you lay your head under the axe. + +“I don't know who the clergyman who married us was; but he was a +clergyman: there can be no doubt about that. It was three days after, +and for the first time in my fifteen years of life, I stood in sunshine, +and daylight, and open air. We drove to the cathedral--for it was in St. +Paul's the sacrilege was committed. I never could have walked there, +I was so stunned, and giddy, and bewildered. I never thought of the +marriage--I could think of nothing but the bright, crashing, sun-shiny +world without, till I was led up before the clergyman, with much the +air, I suppose, of one walking in her sleep. He was a very young man, I +remember, and looked from the dwarf to me, and from me to the dwarf, +in a great state of fear and uncertainty, but evidently not daring to +refuse. Margery and one of his gang were our only attendants, and there, +in God's temple, the deed was done, and I was made the miserable thing I +am to-day.” + +The suppressed passion, rising and throbbing like a white flame in her +face and eyes, made her stop for a moment, breathing hard. Looking up +she met Sir Norman's gaze, and as if there was something in its quiet, +pitying tenderness that mesmerized her into calm, she steadily and +rapidly went on. + +“I awoke to a new life, after that; but not to one of freedom and +happiness. I was as closely, even more closely, guarded than ever; and I +found, when too late, that I had bartered myself, soul and body, for an +empty promise. The only difference was, that I saw more new faces; for +the dwarf began to bring his confederates and subordinates to the house, +and would have me dressed up and displayed to them, with a demoniac +pride that revolted me beyond everything else, if I were a painted +puppet or an overgrown wax doll. Most of the precious crew of scoundrels +had wives of their own and these began to be brought with them of +an evening; and then, what with dancing, and music, and cards, and +feasting, we had quite a carnival of it till morning. + +“I liked this part of the business excessively well at first, and I was +flattered and fooled to the top of my bent, and made from the first, the +reigning belle and queen. There was more policy in that than admiration, +I fancy; for the dwarf was all-powerful among them and dreaded +accordingly, and I was the dwarf's pet and plaything, and all-powerful +with him. The hideous creature had a most hideous passion for me then, +and I could wind him round my finger as easily as Delilah and Samson; +and by his command and their universal consent, the mimicry of royalty +was begun, and I was made mistress and sovereign head, even over the +dwarf himself. It was a queer whim; but that crooked slug was always +taking such odd notions into his head, which nobody there dared laugh +at. The band were bound together by a terrible oath, women and all; but +they had to take another oath then, that of allegiance to me. + +“It quite turned my brain at first; and my eyes were so dazzled by the +pitiful glistening of the pageant, the sham splendor of the sham court, +and the half-mocking, half-serious homage paid me, that I could see +nothing beyond the shining surface, and the blackness, and corruption, +and horror within, were altogether lost upon me. This feeling increased +when, as months and months went by, they were added to the mock peers of +the Midnight Court, real nobles from that of St. Charles. I did not know +then that they were ruined gamesters, vicious profligates, and desperate +broken-down roués, who would have gone to pandemonium itself, nightly, +for the mad license and lawless excesses they could indulge in here to +their heart's content. But I got tired of it all, after a time: my +eyes began slowly to open, and my heart--at least, what little of that +article I ever had--turned sick with horror within me at what I had +done. The awful things I saw, the fearful deeds that were perpetrated, +would curdle your very blood with horror, were I to relate them. You +have seen a specimen yourself, in the cold-blooded murder of that wretch +half an hour ago; and his is not the only life crying for vengeance on +these men. The slightest violation of their oath was punished, and +the doom of traitors and informers was instant death, whether male or +female. The sham trials and executions always took place in presence +of the whole court, to strike a salutary terror into them, and never +occurred but once a week, when the whole band regularly met. My power +continued undiminished; for they knew either the dwarf or I must be +supreme; and though the queen was bad, the prince was worse. The said +prince would willingly have pulled me down from my eminence, and have +mounted it himself; but that he was probably restrained by a feeling +that law-makers should not be law-breakers, and that, if he set the +example, there would be no end to the insubordination and rebellion that +would follow.” + +“Were you living here or in London then?” inquired Sir Norman, taking +an advantage of a pause, employed by Miranda in shaking off the crawling +beetles. + +“Oh, in London! We did not come here until the outbreak of the +plague--that frightened them, especially the female portion, and they +held a scared meeting, and resolved that we should take up our quarters +somewhere else. This place being old and ruined, and deserted and with +all sorts of evil rumors hanging about it, was hit upon; and secretly, +by night, these mouldering old vaults were fitted up, and the goods and +chattels of the royal court removed. And here I, too, was brought by +night under the dwarf's own eye; for he well knew I would have risked +a thousand plagues to escape from him. And here I have been ever since, +and here the weekly revels are still held, and may for years to come, +unless something is done to-night to prevent it. + +“The night before these weekly anniversaries they all gather; but during +the rest of the time I am alone with Margery and the dwarf, and have +learned more secrets about this place than they dream of. For the +rest, there is little need of explanation--the dwarf and his crew have +industriously circulated the rumor that it is haunted; and some of those +white figures you saw with me, and who, by the way, are the daughters of +these robbers, have been shown on the broken battlements, as if to put +the fact beyond doubt. + +“Now, Sir Norman, that is all--you have heard my whole history as far +as I know it; and nothing remains but to tell you what you must see +yourself, that I am mad for revenge, and must have it, and you must help +me!” + +Her eyes were shining with the fierce red fire he had seen in them +before, and the white face wore a look so deadly and diabolical that, +with all its beauty, it was absolutely repulsive. He took a step from +her--for in each of those gleaming eyes sat a devil. + +“You must help me!” she persisted. “You--you, Sir Norman! For many a day +I have been waiting for a chance like this, and until now I have waited +in vain. Alone, I want physical strength to kill him, and I dare not +trust any one else. No one was ever cast among us before as you have +been; and now, condemned to die, you must be desperate, and desperate +men will do desperate things. Fate, Destiny, Providence--whatever you +like--has thrown you in my way, and help me you must and shall!” + +“Madame, madame I what are you saying? How can I help you?” + +“There is but one way--this!” + +She held up in the pale ray of the lamp, something she drew from the +folds of her dress, that glistened blue, and bright, and steelly in the +gloom. + +“A dagger!” he exclaimed, with a shudder, and a recoil. “Madame, are you +talking of murder?” + +“I told you!” she said, through her closed teeth, and with her eyes +flaming like fire, “that ridding the earth of that fiend incarnate would +be a good deed, and no murder! I would do it myself if I could take +him off his guard; but he never is that with me; and then my arm is not +strong enough to reach his black heart through all that mass of +brawn, and blood, and muscle. No, Sir Norman, Doom has allotted it to +you--obey, and I swear to you, you shall go free; refuse--and in ten +minutes your head will roll under the executioner's axe!” + +“Better that than the freedom you offer! Madame, I cannot murder!” + +“Coward!” she passionately cried; “you fear to do it, and yet you have +but a life to lose, and that is lost to you now!” + +Sir Norman raised his head; and even in the darkness she saw the haughty +flush that crimsoned his face. + +“I fear no man living; but, madame, I fear One who is higher than man!” + +“But you will die if you refuse; and I repeat, again and again, there is +no risk. These guards will not let you out; but there are more ways of +leaving a room than through the door, and I can lead you up behind the +tapestry to where he is standing, and you can stab him through the back, +and escape with me! Quick, quick, there is no time to lose!” + +“I cannot do it!” he said, resolutely, drawing back and folding his +arms. “In short, I will not do it!” + +There was such a terrible look in the beautiful eyes, that he half +expected to see her spring at him like a wild cat, and bury the dagger +in his own breast. But the rule of life works by contraries: expect +a blow and you will get a kiss, look for an embrace, and you will be +startled by a kick. When the virago spoke, her voice was calm, compared +with what it had been before, even mild. + +“You refuse! Well, a willful man must have him way; and since you are +so qualmish about a little bloodletting, we must try another plan. If I +release you--for short as the time is, I can do it--will you promise me +to go direct to the king this very night, and inform him of all you've +seen and heard here?” + +She looked at him with an eagerness that was almost fierce; and in spite +of her steady voice, there was something throbbing and quivering, deadly +and terrible, in her upturned face. The form she looked at was erect +and immovable, the eyes were quietly resolved, the mouth half-pityingly, +half-sadly smiling. + +“Are you aware, dear lady, what the result of such a step would be?” + +“Death!” she said, coldly. + +“Death, transportation, or life-long imprisonment to them all--misery +and disgrace to many a noble house; for some I saw there were once +friends of mine, with families I honor and respect. Could I bring the +dwarf and his attendant imps to Tyburn, and treat them to a hempen +cravat, I would do it without remorse--though the notion of being +informer, even then, would not be very pleasant; but as it is, I cannot +be the death of one without ruining all, and as I told you, some of +those were once my friends. No, madame, I cannot do it. I have but once +to die and I prefer death here, to purchasing life at such a price.” + +There was a short silence, during which they gazed into each other's +eyes ominously, and one was about as colorless as the other. + +“You refuse?” she coldly said. + +“I must! But if you can save my life, as you say, why not do it, and fly +with me? You will find me the truest and most grateful of friends, while +life remains.” + +“You are very kind; but I want no friendship, Sir Norman--nothing but +revenge! As to escaping, I could have done that any time since we came +here, for I have found out a secret means of exit from each of these +vaults, that they know nothing of. But I have staid to see him dead at +my feet--if not by my hand, at least by my command; and since you +will not do it, I will make the attempt myself. Farewell, Sir Norman +Kingsley; before many minutes you will be a corpse, and your blood be +upon yourself!” + +She gave him a glance as coldly fierce as her dagger's glance, and +turned to go, when he stepped hastily forward, and interposed: + +“Miranda--Miranda--you are crazed! Stop and tell me what you intend to +do.” + +“What you feared to attempt,” she haughtily replied; “Sheathe this +dagger in his demon heart!” + +“Miranda, give me the dagger. You must not, you shall not, commit such a +crime!” + +“Shall not?” she uttered scornfully. “And who are you that dares to +speak to me like this? Stand aside, coward, and let me pass!” + +“Pardon me, but I cannot, while you hold that dagger. Give it to me, and +you shall go free; but while you hold it with this intention, for your +own sake, I will detain you till some one comes.” + +She uttered a low, fierce cry, and struck at him with it, but he caught +her hand, and with sudden force snatched it from her. In doing so he was +obliged to hold it with its point toward her, and struggling for it in a +sort of frenzy, as he raised the hand that held it, she slipped forward +and it was driven half-way to the hilt in her side. There was a low, +grasping cry--a sudden clasping of both hands over her heart, a sway, a +reel, and she fell headlong prostrate on the loathsome floor. + +Sir Norman stood paralyzed. She half raised herself on her elbow, +drew the dagger from the wound, and a great jet of blood shot up and +crimsoned her hands. She did not faint--there seemed to be a deathless +energy within her that chained life strongly in its place--she only +pressed both hands hard over the wound, and looked mournfully and +reproachfully up in his face. Those beautiful, sad, solemn eyes, void of +everything savage and fierce, were truly Leoline's eyes now. + +Through all his first shock of horror, another thing dawned on his +mind; he had looked on this scene before. It was the second view in La +Masque's caldron, and but one remained to be verified. + +The next instant, he was down on his knees in a paroxysm of grief and +despair. + +“What have I done? what have I done?” was his cry. + +“Listen!” she said, faintly raising one finger. “Do you hear that?” + +Distant steps were echoing along the passage. Yes; he heard them, and +knew what they were. + +“They are coming to lead you to death!” she said, with some of her +old fire; “but I will baffle them yet. Take that lamp--go to the wall +yonder, and in that corner, near the floor, you will see a small iron +ring. Pull it--it does not require much force--and you will find an +opening leading through another vault; at the end there is a broken +flight of stairs, mount them, and you will find yourself in the same +place from which you fell. Fly, fly! There is not a second to lose!” + +“How can I fly? how can I leave you dying here?” + +“I am not dying!” she wildly cried, lifting both hands from the wound to +push him away, while the blood flowed over the floor. “But we will both +die if you stay. Go-go-go!” + +The footsteps had paused at his door. The bolts were beginning to be +withdrawn. He lifted the lamp, flew across his prison, found the ring, +and took a pull at it with desperate strength. Part of what appeared +to be the solid wall drew out, disclosing an aperture through which he +could just squeeze sideways. Quick as thought he was through, forgetting +the lamp in his haste. The portion of the wall slid noiselessly back, +just as the prison door was thrown open, and the dwarfs voice was heard, +socially inviting him, like Mrs. Bond's ducks, to come and be killed. + +Some people talk of darkness so palpable that it may be felt, and if +ever any one was qualified to tell from experience what it felt like, +Sir Norman was in that precise condition at that precise period. +He groped his way through the blind blackness along what seemed an +interminable distance, and stumbled, at last, over the broken stairs at +the end. With some difficult, and at the serious risk of his jugular, +he mounted them, and found himself, as Miranda had stated, in a place +he knew very well. Once here he allowed no grass to grow under his feet; +and, in five minutes after, to his great delight, he found himself where +he had never hoped to be again--in the serene moonlight and the open +air, fetterless and free. + +His horse was still where he had left him, and in a twinkling he was on +his back, and dashing away to the city, to love--to Leoline! + + + + + +CHAPTER XV. LEOLINE'S VISITORS. + +If things were done right--but they are not and, never will be, while +this whirligig world of mistakes spins round, and all Adam's children, +to the end of the chapter, will continue sinning to-day and repenting +to-morrow, falling the next and bewailing it the day after. If Leoline +had gone to bed directly, like a good, dutiful little girl, as Sir +Norman ordered her, she would have saved herself a good deal of trouble +and tears; but Leoline and sleep were destined to shake hands and turn +their backs on each other that night. It was time for all honest folks +to be in bed, and the dark-eyed beauty knew it too, but she had no +notion of going, nevertheless. She stood in the centre of the room, +where he had left her, with a spot like a scarlet roseberry on either +cheek; a soft half-smile on the perfect mouth, and a light unexpressibly +tender and dreamy, in those artesian wells of beauty--her eyes. Most +young girls of green and tender years, suffering from “Love's young +dream,” and that sort of thing, have just that soft, shy, brooding look, +whenever their thoughts happen to turn to their particular beloved; and +there are few eyes so ugly that it does not beautify, even should they +be as cross as two sticks. You should have seen Leoline standing in +the centre of her pretty room, with her bright rose-satin glancing and +glittering, and flowing over rug and mat; with her black waving hair +clustering and curling like shining floss silk; with a rich white +shimmer of pearls on the pale smooth forehead and large beautiful arms. +She did look irresistibly bewitching beyond doubt; and it was just as +well for Sir Norman's peace of mind that he did not see her, for he was +bad enough without that. So she stood thinking tenderly of him for a +half-hour or so, quite undisturbed by the storm; and how strange it was +that she had risen up that very morning expecting to be one man's bride, +and that she should rise up the next, expecting to be another's. She +could not realize it at all; and with a little sigh--half pleasure, half +presentiment--she walked to the window, drew the curtain, and looked +out at the night. All was peaceful and serene; the moon was full to +overflowing, and a great deal of extra light ran over the brim; quite a +quantity of stars were out, and were winking pleasantly down at the dark +little planet below, that went round, and round, with grim stoicism, and +paid no attention to anybody's business but its own. She saw the heaps +of black, charred ashes that the rush of rain had quenched; she saw the +still and empty street; the frowning row of gloomy houses opposite, and +the man on guard before one of them. She had watched that man all day, +thinking, with a sick shudder, of the plague-stricken prisoners he +guarded, and reading its piteous inscription, “Lord have mercy on us!” + till the words seemed branded on her brain. While she looked now, an +upper window was opened, a night-cap was thrust out and a voice from its +cavernous depths hailed the guard. + +“Robert! I say, Robert!” + +“Well!” said Robert, looking up. + +“Master and missus be gone at last, and the rest won't live till +morning.” + +“Won't they?” said Robert, phlegmatically; “what a pity! Get 'em ready, +and I'll stop the dead-cart when it comes round.” + +Just as he spoke, the well-known rattle of wheels, the loud ringing of +the bell, and the monotonous cry of the driver, “Bring out your dead! +bring out your dead!” echoed on the pale night's silence; and the +pest-cart came rumbling and jolting along with its load of death. The +watchman hailed the driver, according to promise, and they entered the +house together, brought out one long, white figure, and then another, +and threw them on top of the ghastly heap. + +“We'll have three more for you in on hour of so--don't forget to come +round,” suggested the watchman. + +“All right!” said the driver, as he took his place, whipped his horse, +rang his bell, and jogged along nonchalantly to the plague-pit. + +Sick at heart, Leoline dropped the curtain, and turned round to see +somebody else standing at her elbow. She had been quite alone when she +looked out; she was alone no longer; there had been no noise, yet some +one had entered, and was standing beside her. A tall figure, all in +black, with its sweeping velvet robes spangled with stars of golden +rubies, a perfect figure of incomparable grace and beauty. It had worn a +cloak that had dropped lightly from its shoulders, and lay on the floor +and the long hair streamed in darkness over shoulder and waist. The +face was masked, the form stood erect and perfectly motionless, and the +scream of surprise and consternation that arose to Leoline's lips died +out in wordless terror. Her noiseless visitor perceived it, and touching +her arm lightly with one little white hand, said in her sweetest and +most exquisite of tones: + +“My child, do not tremble so, and do not look so deathly white. You know +me, do you not?” + +“You are La Masque!” said Leoline trembling with nervous dread. + +“I am, and no stranger to you; though perhaps you think so. Is it +your habit every night to look out of your window in full dress until +morning?” + +“How did you enter?” asked Leoline, her curiosity overcoming for a +moment even her fear. + +“Through the door. Not a difficult thing, either, if you leave it wide +open every night, as it is this.” + +“Was it open?” said Leoline, in dismay. “I never knew it.” + +“Ah! then it was not you who went out last. Who was it?” + +“It was--was--” Leoline's cheeks were scarlet; “it was a friend!” + +“A somewhat late hour for one's friends to visit,” said La Masque, +sarcastically; “and you should learn the precaution of seeing them to +the door and fastening it after them.” + +“Rest assured, I shall do so for the future,” said Leoline, with a +look that would have reminded Sir Norman of Miranda had he seen it. +“I scarcely expected the honor of any more visits, particularly from +strangers to-night.” + +“Civil, that! Will you ask me to sit down, or am I to consider myself an +unseasonable intruder, and depart?” + +“Madame, will you do me the honor to be seated. The hour, as you say, is +somewhat unseasonable, and you will oblige me by letting me know to what +I am indebted for the pleasure of this visit, as quickly as possible.” + +There was something quite dignified about Mistress Leoline as she swept +rustling past La Masque, sank into the pillowy depths of her lounge, and +motioned her visitor to a seat with a slight and graceful wave of her +hand. Not but that in her secret heart she was a good deal frightened, +for something under her pink satin corsage was going pit-a-pat at a +wonderful rate; but she thought that betraying such a feeling would not +be the thing. Perhaps the tall, dark figure saw it, and smiled behind +her mask; but outwardly she only leaned lightly against the back of the +chair, and glanced discreetly at the door. + +“Are you sure we are quite alone?” + +“Quite:” + +“Because,” said La Masque, in her low, silvery tones, “what I have come +to say is not for the ears of any third person living:” + +“We are entirely alone, madame,” replied Leoline, opening her black eyes +very wide. “Prudence is gone, and I do not know when she will be back.” + +“Prudence will never come back,” said La Masque, quietly. + +“Madame!” + +“My dear, do not look so shocked--it is not her fault. You know she +deserted you for fear of the plague.” + +“Yes, yes!” + +“Well, that did not save her; nay, it even brought on what she dreaded +so much. Your nurse is plague-stricken, my dear, and lies ill unto death +in the pest-house in Finsbury Fields.” + +“Oh, dreadful!” exclaimed Leoline, while every drop of blood fled from +her face. “My poor, poor old nurse!” + +“Your poor, poor old nurse left you without much tenderness when she +thought you dying of the same disease,” said La Masque, quietly. + +“Oh, that is nothing. The suddenness, the shock drove her to it. My +poor, dear Prudence.” + +“Well, you can do nothing for her now,” said La Masque, in a tone of +slight impatience. “Prudence is beyond all human aid, and so--let her +rest in peace. You were carried to the plague-pit yourself, for dead, +were you not?” + +“Yes,” answered the pale lips, while she shivered all over at the +recollection. + +“And was saved by--by whom were you saved, my dear?” + +“By two gentlemen.” + +“Oh, I know that; what were their names?” + +“One was Mr. Ormiston, the other was,” hesitating and blushing vividly, +“Sir Norman Kingsley.” + +La Masque leaned across her chair, and laid one dainty finger lightly on +the girl's hot cheek. + +“And for which is that blush, Leoline?” + +“Madame, was it only to ask me questions you came here?” said Leoline, +drawing proudly back, though the hot red spot grew hotter and redder; +“if so, you will excuse my declining to answer any more.” + +“Child, child!” said La Masque, in a tone so strangely sad that it +touched Leoline, “do not be angry with me. It is no idle curiosity that +sent me here at this hour to ask impertinent questions, but a claim that +I have upon you, stronger than that of any one else in the world.” + +Leoline's beautiful eyes opened wider yet. + +“A claim upon me! How? Why? I do not understand.” + +“All in good time. Will you tell me something of your past history, +Leoline?” + +“Madame Masque, I have no history to tell. All my life I have lived +alone with Prudence; that in the whole of it in nine words.” + +La Masque half laughed. + +“Short, sharp, and decisive. Had you never father or mother?” + +“There is a slight probability I may have had at some past period,” said +Leoline, sighing; “but none that I ever knew.” + +“Why does not Prudence tell you?” + +“Prudence is only my nurse, and says she has nothing to tell. My parents +died when I was an infant, and left me in her care--that is her story.” + +“A likely one enough, and yet I see by your face that you doubt it.” + +“I do doubt it! There are a thousand little outward things that make me +fancy it is false, and an inward voice that assures me it is so.” + +“Then let me tell you that inward voice tells falsehoods, for I know +that your father and mother are both dead these fourteen years!” + +Leoline's great black eyes were fixed on her face with a look so wild +and eager, that La Masque laid her hand lightly and soothingly on her +shoulder. + +“Don't look at me with such a spectral face! What is there so +extraordinary in all I have said?” + +“You said you knew my father and mother.” + +“No such thing! I said I knew they were dead, but the other fact is true +also; I did know them when living!” + +“Madame, who are you? Who were they?” + +“I? Oh, I am La Masque, the sorceress, and they--they were Leoline's +father and mother!” and again La Masque slightly laughed. + +“You mock me, madame!” cried Leoline, passionately. “You are cruel--you +are heartless! If you know anything, in Heaven's name tell me--if not, +go and leave me in peace!” + +“Thank you! I shall do that presently; and as to the other--of course I +shall tell you; what else do you suppose I have come for to-night? Look +here! Do you see this?” + +She drew out from some hidden pocket in her dress a small and +beautifully-wrought casket of ivory and silver, with straps and clasps +of silver, and a tiny key of the same. + +“Well!” asked Leoline, looking from it to her, with the blank air of one +utterly bewildered, + +“In this casket, my dear, there is a roll of papers, closely written, +which you are to read as soon as I leave you. Those papers contain your +whole history--do you understand?” + +She was looking so white, and staring so hard and so hopelessly, that +there was need of the question. She took the casket and gazed at it with +a perplexed air. + +“My child, have your thoughts gone wool-gathering? Do you not comprehend +what I have said to you! Your whole history is hid in that box?” + +“I know!” said Leoline, slowly, and with her eyes again riveted to the +black mask. “But; madame, who are you?” + +“Have I not told you? What a pretty inquisitor it is! I am La +Masque--your friend, now; something more soon, as you will see when you +read what I have spoken of. Do not ask me how I have come by it--you +will read all about it there. I did not know that I would give it to you +to-night, but I have a strange foreboding that it is destined to be my +last on earth. And, Leoline my child, before I leave you, let me hear +you say you will not hate me when you read what is there.” + +“What have you done to me? Why should I hate you?” + +“Ah! you will find that all out soon enough. Do content me, Leoline--let +me hear you say; `La Masque, whatever you've done to me, however you +have wronged me, I will forgive you!' Can you say that?” + +Leoline repeated it simply, like a little child. La Masque took her +hand, held it between both her own, leaned over and looked earnestly in +her face. + +“My little Leoline! my beautiful rosebud! May Heaven bless you and grant +you a long and happy life with--shall I say it, Leoline?” + +“Please--no!” whispered Leoline, shyly. + +La Masque softly patted the little tremulous hand. + +“We are both saying the name now in our hearts, my dear, so it is little +matter whether our lips repeat it or not. He is worthy, of you, Leoline, +and your life will be a happy one by his side; but there is another.” + She paused and lowered her voice. “When have you seen Count L'Estrange?” + +“Not since yesterday, madame.” + +“Beware of him! Do you know who he is, Leoline?” + +“I know nothing of him but his name.” + +“Then do not seek to know,” said La Masque, emphatically. “For it is a +secret you would tremble to hear. And now I must leave you. Come with me +to the door, and fasten it as soon as I go out, lest you should forget +it altogether.” + +Leoline, with a dazed expression, thrust the precious little casket into +the bosom of her dress, and taking up the lamp, preceded her visitor +down stairs. At the door they paused, and La Masque, with her hand on +her arm, repeated, in a low, earnest voice, + +“Leoline, beware of Count L'Estrange, and become Lady Kingsley as soon +as you can.” + +“I will hear that name to-morrow!” thought Leoline, with a glad little +thrill at her heart, as La Masque flitted out into the moonlight. + +Leoline closed and locked the door, driving the bolts into their +sockets, and making all secure. “I defy any one to get in again +tonight!” she said, smiling at her own dexterity; and lamp in hand, she +ran lightly up stairs to read the long unsolved riddle. + +So eager was she, that she had crossed the room, laid the lamp on the +table, and sat down before it, ere she became aware that she was not +alone. Some one was leaning against the mantel, his arm on it, and his +eyes do her, gazing with an air of incomparable coolness and ease. It +was a man this time--something more than a man,--a count, and Count +L'Estrange, at that! + +Leoline sprang to her feet with a wild scream, a cry full of terror, +amaze, and superstitious dread; and the count raised his band with a +self-possessed smile. + +“Pardon, fair Leoline, if I intrude! But have I not a right to come at +all hours and visit my bride?” + +“Leoline is no bride of yours!” retorted that young lady, passionately, +her indignation overpowering both fear and surprise. “And, what is more, +never will be! Now, sir!” + +“So my little bird of paradise can fire up, I see! As to your being my +bride, that remains to be seen. You promised to be tonight, you know!” + +“Then I'll recall that promise. I have changed my mind.” + +“Well, that's not very astonishing; it is but the privilege of your +sex! Nevertheless, I'm afraid I must insist on your becoming Countess +L'Estrange, and that immediately!” + +“Never, sir! I will die first!” + +“Oh, no! We could not spare such a bright little beauty out of this ugly +world! You will live, and live for me!” + +“Sir!” cried Leoline, white with passion, and her black eyes blazing +with a fire that would have killed him, could fiery glances slay! “I +do not know how you have entered here; but I do know, if you are a +gentleman, you will leave me instantly! Go sir! I never wish to see you +again!” + +“But when I wish to see you so much, my darling Leoline,” said the +count, with provoking indifference, “what does a little reluctance on +your part signify? Get your hood and mantle, my love--my horse awaits +us without--and let us fly where neither plague nor mortal man will +interrupt our nuptials!” + +“Will no one take this man away?” she cried, looking helplessly round, +and wringing her hands. + +“Certainly not, my dear--not even Sir Norman Kingsley! George, I am +afraid this pretty little vixen will not go peaceably; you had better +come in!” + +With a smile on his face, he took a step toward her. Shrieking wildly, +she darted across the room, and made for the door, just as somebody else +was entering it. The next instant, a shawl was thrown over her head, +her cries smothered in it, and she was lifted in a pair of strong arms, +carried down stairs, and out into the night. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE THIRD VISION. + +Presentiments are strange things. From the first moment Sir Norman +entered the city, and his thoughts had been able to leave Miranda and +find themselves wholly on Leoline, a heavy foreboding of evil to her +had oppressed him. Some danger, he was sure, had befallen her during his +absence--how could it be otherwise with the Earl of Rochester and Count +L'Estrange both on her track? Perhaps, by this time, one or other had +found her, and alone and unaided she had been an easy victim, and was +now borne beyond his reach forever. The thought goaded him and his horse +almost to distraction; for the moment it struck him, he struck spurs +into his horse, making that unoffending animal jump spasmodically, like +one of those prancing steeds Miss Bonheur is fond of depicting. Through +the streets he flew at a frantic rate, growing more excited and full +of apprehension the nearer he came to old London Bridge; and calling +himself a select litany of hard names inwardly, for having left the dear +little thing at all. + +“If I find her safe and well,” thought Sir Norman, emphatically, +“nothing short of an earthquake or dying of the plague will ever induce +me to leave her again, until she is Lady Kingsley, and in the old manor +of Devonshire. What a fool, idiot, and ninny I must have been, to have +left her as I did, knowing those two sleuth-hounds were in full chase! +What are all the Mirandas and midnight queens to me, if Leoline is +lost?” + +That last question was addressed to the elements in general; and as they +disdained reply, he cantered on furiously, till the old house by the +river was reached. It was the third time that night he had paused to +contemplate it, and each time with very different feelings; first, from +simple curiosity; second, in an ecstasy of delight, and third and last, +in an agony of apprehension. All around was peaceful and still; moon +and stars sailed serenely through a sky of silver and snow; a faint +cool breeze floated up from the river and fanned his hot and fevered +forehead; the whole city lay wrapped in stillness as profound and +deathlike as the fabled one of the marble prince in the Eastern +tale--nothing living moved abroad, but the lonely night-guard keeping +their dreary vigils before the plague-stricken houses, and the +ever-present, ever-busy pest-cart, with its mournful bell and dreadful +cry. + +As far as Sir Norman could see, no other human being but himself and +the solitary watchman, so often mentioned, were visible. Even he could +scarcely be said to be present; for, though leaning against the house +with his halberd on his shoulder, he was sound asleep at his post, and +far away in the land of dreams. It was the second night of his watch; +and with a good conscience and a sound digestion, there is no earthly +anguish short of the toothache, strong enough to keep a man awake two +nights in succession. So sound were his balmy slumbers in his airy +chamber, that not even the loud clatter of Sir Norman's horse's hoofs +proved strong enough to arouse him; and that young gentleman, after +glancing at him, made up his mind to try to find out for himself before +arousing him to seek information. + +Securing his horse, he looked up at the house with wistful eyes, and saw +that the solitary light still burned in her chamber. It struck him +now how very imprudent it was to keep that lamp burning; for if Count +L'Estrange saw it, it was all up with Leoline--and there was even +more to be dreaded from him than from the earl. How was he to find +out whether that illuminated chamber had a tenant or not? Certainly, +standing there staring till doomsday would not do it; and there seemed +but two ways, that of entering the house at once or arousing the man. +But the man was sleeping so soundly that it seemed a pity to awake +him for a trifle; and, after all, there could be no great harm or +indiscretion in his entering to see if his bride was safe. Probably +Leoline was asleep, and would know nothing about it; or, even were she +wide awake, and watchful, she was altogether too sensible a girl to +be displeased at his anxiety about her. If she were still awake, and +waiting for day-dawn, he resolved to remain with her and keep her from +feeling lonesome until that time came--if she were asleep, he would +steal out softly again, and keep guard at her door until morning. + +Full of these praiseworthy resolutions, he tried the handle of the +door, half expecting to find it locked, and himself obliged to effect +an entrance through the window; but no, it yielded to his touch, and +he went in. Hall and staircase were intensely dark, but he knew his +way without a pilot this time, and steered clear of all shoals and +quicksands, through the hall and up the stairs. + +The door of the lighted room--Leoline's room--lay wide open, and he +paused on the threshold to reconnoitre. He had gone softly for fear of +startling her, and now, with the same tender caution, he glanced +round the room. The lamp burned on the dainty dressing table, where +undisturbed lay jewels, perfume bottles and other knickknacks. The +cithern lay unmolested on the couch, the rich curtains were drawn; +everything was as he had left it last--everything, but the pretty pink +figure, with drooping eyes, and pearls in the waves of her rich, black +hair. He looked round for the things she had worn, hoping she had taken +them off and retired to rest, but they were not to be seen; and with a +cold sinking of the heart, he went noiselessly across the room, and +to the bed. It was empty, and showed no trace of having been otherwise +since he and the pest-cart driver had borne from it the apparently +lifeless form of Leoline. + +Yes, she was gone; and Sir Norman turned for a moment so sick with utter +dread, that he leaned against one of the tall carved posts, and hated +himself for having left her with a heartlessness that his worst enemy +could not have surpassed. Then aroused into new and spasmodic energy by +the exigency of the case, he seized the lamp, and going out to the hall, +made the house ring from basement to attic with her name. No reply, but +that hollow, melancholy echo that sounds so lugubriously through empty +houses, was returned; and he jumped down stairs with an impetuous rush, +flinging back every door in the hall below with a crash, and flying +wildly from room to room. In solemn grim repose they lay; but none of +them held the bright figure in rose-satin he sought. And he left them in +despair, and went back to her chamber again. + +“Leoline! Leoline! Leoline!” he called, while he rushed impetuously up +stairs, and down stairs, and in my lady's chamber; but Leoline answered +not--perhaps never would answer more! Even “hoping against hope,” he had +to give up the chase at last--no Leoline did that house hold; and with +this conviction despairingly impressed on his mind, Sir Norman Kingsley +covered his face with his hands, and uttered a dismal groan. + +Yet, forlorn as was the case, he groaned but once, “only that and +nothing more;” there was no time for such small luxuries as groaning and +tearing his hair, and boiling over with wrath and vengeance against the +human race generally, and those two diabolical specimens of it, the +Earl of Rochester and Count L'Estrange, particularly. He plunged head +foremost down stairs, and out of the door. There he was impetuously +brought up all standing; for somebody stood before it, gazing up at +the gloomy front with as much earnestness as he had done himself, and +against this individual he rushed recklessly with a shock that nearly +sent the pair of them over into the street. + +“Sacr-r-re!” cried a shrill voice, in tones of indignant remonstrance. +“What do you mean, monsieur? Are you drunk, or crazy, that you come +running head foremost into peaceable citizens, and throwing them heels +uppermost on the king's highway! Stand off, sir! And think yourself +lucky that I don't run you through with my dirk for such an insult!” + +At the first sound of the outraged treble tones, Sir Norman had started +back and glared upon the speaker with much the same expression of +countenance as an incensed tiger. The orator of the spirited address had +stooped to pick up his plumed cap, and recover his centre of gravity, +which was considerably knocked out of place by the unexpected collision, +and held forth with very flashing eyes, and altogether too angry to +recognize his auditor. Sir Norman waited until he had done, and then +springing at him, grabbed him by the collar. + +“You young hound!” he exclaimed, fairly lifting him off his feet with +one hand, and shaking him as if he would have wriggled him out of hose +and doublet. “You infernal young jackanapes! I'll run you through in +less than two minutes, if you don't tell me where you have taken her.” + +The astonishment, not to say consternation, of Master Hubert for that +small young gentleman and no other it was--on thus having his ideas thus +shaken out of him, was unbounded, and held him perfectly speechless, +while Sir Norman glared at him and shook him in a way that would have +instantaneously killed him if his looks were lightning. The boy had +recognized his aggressor, and after his first galvanic shock, struggled +like a little hero to free himself, and at last succeeded by an artful +spring. + +“Sir Norman Kingsley,” he cried, keeping a safe yard or two of pavement +between him and that infuriated young knight, “have you gone mad, or +what, is Heaven's name, is the meaning of all this?” + +“It means,” exclaimed Sir Norman, drawing his sword, and flourishing it +within an inch of the boy's curly head,--“that you'll be a dead page in +less than half a minute, unless you tell me immediately where she has +been taken to.” + +“Where who has been taken to?” inquired Hubert, opening his bright +and indignant black eyes in a way that reminded Sir Norman forcibly of +Leoline. “Pardon, monsieur, I don't understand at all.” + +“You young villain! Do you mean to stand up there and tell me to my face +that you have not searched for her, and found her, and have carried her +off?” + +“Why, do you mean the lady we were talking of, that was saved from the +river?” asked Hubert, a new light dawning upon him. + +“Do I mean the lady we were talking of?” repeated Sir Norman, with +another furious flourish of his sword. “Yes, I do mean the lady we were +talking of; and what's more--I mean to pin you where you stand, against +that wall, unless you tell me, instantly, where she has been taken.” + +“Monsieur!” exclaimed the boy, raising his hands with an earnestness +there was no mistaking, “I do assure you, upon my honor, that I know +nothing of the lady whatever; that I have not found her; that I have +never set eyes on her since the earl saved her from the river.” + +The earnest tone of truth would, in itself, almost have convinced Sir +Norman, but it was not that, that made him drop his sword so suddenly. +The pale, startled face; the dark, solemn eyes, were so exactly like +Leoline's, that they thrilled him through and through, and almost made +him believe, for a moment, he was talking to Leoline herself. + +“Are you--are you sure you are not Leoline?” he inquired, almost +convinced, for an instant, by the marvelous resemblance, that it was +really so. + +“I? Positively, Sir Norman, I cannot understand this at all, unless you +wish to enjoy yourself at my expense.” + +“Look here, Master Hubert!” said Sir Norman with a sudden change of look +and tone. “If you do not understand, I shall just tell you in a word or +two how matters are, and then let me hear you clear yourself. You know +the lady we were talking about, that Lord Rochester picked up afloat, +and sent you in search of?” + +“Yes--yes.” + +“Well,” went on Sir Norman, with a sort of grim stoicism. “After leaving +you, I started on a little expedition of my own, two miles from the +city, from which expedition I returned ten minutes ago. When I left, the +lady was secure and safe in this house; when I came back, she was gone. +You were in search of her--had told me yourself you were determined on +finding her, and having her carried off; and now, my youthful friend, +put this and that together,” with a momentary returning glare, “and see +what it amounts to!” + +“It amounts to this:” retorted his youthful friend, stoutly, “that +I know nothing whatever about it. You may make out a case of strong +circumstantial evidence against me; but if the lady has been carried +off, I have had no hand in it.” + +Again Sir Norman was staggered by the frank, bold gaze and truthful +voice, but still the string was in a tangle somewhere. + +“And where have you been ever since?” he began severely, and with the +air of a lawyer about to go into a rigid cross-examination. + +“Searching for her,” was the prompt reply. + +“Where?” + +“Through the streets; in the pest-houses, and at the plague-pit.” + +“How did you find out she lived here?” + +“I did not find it out. When I became convinced she was in none of the +places I have mentioned, I gave up the search in despair, for to-night, +and was returning to his lordship to report my ill success.” + +“Why, then, were you standing in front of her house, gaping at it +with all the eyes in your head, as if it were the eighth wonder of the +world?” + +“Monsieur has not the most courteous way of asking questions, that I +ever heard of; but I have no particular objection to answer him. It +struck me that, as Mr. Ormiston brought the lady up this way, and as +I saw you and he haunting this place so much to-night, I thought her +residence was somewhere here, and I paused to look at the house as I +went along. In fact, I intended to ask old sleepy-head, over there, for +further particulars, before I left the neighborhood, had not you, Sir +Norman, run bolt into me, and knocked every idea clean out of my head.” + +“And you are sure you are not Leoline?” said Sir Norman, suspiciously. + +“To the best of my belief, Sir Norman, I am not,” replied Hubert, +reflectively. + +“Well, it is all very strange, and very aggravating,” said Sir Norman, +sighing, and sheathing his sword. “She is gone, at all events; no doubt +about that--and if you have not carried her off, somebody else has.” + +“Perhaps she has gone herself,” insinuated Hubert. + +“Bah! Gone herself!” said Sir Norman, scornfully. “The idea is beneath +contempt: I tell you, Master Fine-feathers, the lady and I were to be +married bright and early to-morrow morning, and leave this disgusting +city for Devonshire. Do you suppose, then, she would run out in the +small hours of the morning, and go prancing about the streets, or +eloping with herself?” + +“Why, of course, Sir Norman, I can't take it upon myself to answer +positively; but, to use the mildest phrase, I must say the lady seems +decidedly eccentric, and capable of doing very queer things. I hope, +however, you believe me; for I earnestly assure you, I never laid eyes +on her but that once.” + +“I believe you,” said Sir Norman, with another profound and +broken-hearted sigh, “and I'm only too sure she has been abducted by +that consummate scoundrel and treacherous villain, Count L'Estrange.” + +“Count who?” said Hubert, with a quick start, and a look of intense +curiosity. “What was the name?” + +“L'Estrange--a scoundrel of the deepest dye! Perhaps you know him?” + +“No,” replied Hubert, with a queer, half musing smile, “no; but I have a +notion I have heard the name. Was he a rival of yours?” + +“I should think so! He was to have been married to the lady this very +night!” + +“He was, eh! And what prevented the ceremony?” + +“She took the plague!” said Sir Norman, strange to say, not at all +offended at the boy's familiarity. “And would have been thrown into the +plague-pit but for me. And when she recovered she accepted me and cast +him off!” + +“A quick exchange! The lady's heart must be most flexible, or unusually +large, to be able to hold so many at once.” + +“It never held him!” said Sir Norman, frowning; “she was forced into +the marriage by her mercenary friends. Oh! if I had him here, wouldn't I +make him wish the highwaymen had shot him through the head, and done for +him, before I would let him go!” + +“What is he like--this Count L'Estrange?” said Hubert, carelessly. + +“Like the black-hearted traitor and villain he is!” replied Sir Norman, +with more energy than truth; for he had caught but passing glimpses +of the count's features, and those showed him they were decidedly +prepossessing; “and he slinks along like a coward and an abductor as +he is, in a slouched hat and shadowy cloak. Oh! if I had him here!” + repeated Sir Norman, with vivacity; “wouldn't I--” + +“Yes, of course you would,” interposed Hubert, “and serve him right, +too! Have you made any inquiries about the matter--for instance, of our +friend sleeping the sleep of the just, across there?” + +“No--why?” + +“Why, it seems to me, if she's been carried off before he fell asleep, +he has probably heard or seen something of it; and I think it would not +be a bad plan to step over and inquire.” + +“Well, we can try,” said Sir Norman, with a despairing face; “but I +know it will end in disappointment and vexation of spirit, like all the +rest!” + +With which dismal view of things, he crossed the street side by side +with his jaunty young friend. The watchman was still enjoying the balmy, +and snoring in short, sharp snorts, when Master Hubert remorselessly +caught him by the shoulder, and began a series of shakes and pokes, and +digs, and “hallos!” while Sir Norman stood near and contemplated the +scene with a pensive eye. At last while undergoing a severe course of +this treatment the watchman was induced to open his eyes on this mortal +life, and transfix the two beholders with, an intensely vacant and blank +share. + +“Hey?” he inquired, helplessly. “What was you a saying of, gentlemen? +What is it?” + +“We weren't a saying of anything as yet,” returned Hubert; “but we mean +to, shortly. Are you quite sure you are wide awake?” + +“What do you want?” was the cross question, given by way of answer. +“What do you come bothering me for at such a rate, all night, I want to +know?” + +“Keep civil, friend, we wear swords,” said Hubert, touching, with +dignity, the hilt of the little dagger he carried; “we only want to ask +you a few questions. First, do you see that house over yonder?” + +“Oh! I see it!” said the man gruffly; “I am not blind!” + +“Well who was the last person you saw come out of that house?” + +“I don't know who they was!” still more gruffly. “I ain't got the +pleasure of their acquaintance!” + +“Did you see a young lady come out of it lately?” + +“Did I see a young lady?” burst out the watchman, in a high key of +aggrieved expostulation. “How many more times this blessed night am I +to be asked about that young lady. First and foremost, there comes two +young men, which this here is one of them, and they bring out the young +lady and have her hauled away in the dead-cart; then comes along another +and wants to know all the particulars, and by the time he gets properly +away, somebody else comes and brings her back like a drowned rat. Then +all sorts of people goes in and out, and I get tired looking at them, +and then fall asleep, and before I've been in that condition about a +minute, you two come punching me and waken me up to ask questions about +her! I wish that young lady was in Jerico--I do!” said the watchman, +with a smothered growl. + +“Come, come, my man!” said Hubert, slapping him soothingly on the +shoulder. “Don't be savage, if you can help it! This gentleman has a +gold coin in some of his pockets, I believe, and it will fall to you if +you keep quiet and answer decently. Tell me how many have been in that +house since the young lady was brought back like a drowned rat?” + +“How many?” said the man, meditating, with his eyes fixed on Sir +Norman's garments, and he, perceiving that, immediately gave him +the promised coin to refresh his memory, which it did with amazing +quickness. “How many--oh--let me see; there was the young man that +brought her in, and left her there, and came out again, and went away. +By-and-by, he came back with another, which I think this as gave me the +money is him. After a little, they came out, first the other one, then +this one, and went off; and the next that went in was a tall woman in +black, with a mask on, and right behind her there came two men; the +woman in the mask came out after a while; and about ten minutes after, +the two men followed, and one of them carried something in his arms, +that didn't look unlike a lady with her head in a shawl. Anything wrong, +sir?” as Sir Norman gave a violent start and caught Hubert by the arm. + +“Nothing! Where did they carry her to? What did they do with her? Go on! +go on!” + +“Well,” said the watchman, eyeing the speaker curiously, “I'm going to. +They went along, down to the river, both of them, and I saw a boat shove +off, shortly after, and that something, with its head in a shawl, lying +as peaceable as a lamb, with one of the two beside it. That's all--I +went asleep about then, till you two were shaking me and waking me up.” + +Sir Norman and Hubert looked at each other, one between despair and +rage, the other with a thoughtful, half-inquiring air, as if he had some +secret to tell, and was mentally questioning whether it was safe to do +so. On the whole, he seemed to come to the conclusion, that a silent +tongue maketh a wise head, and nodding and saying “Thank you!” to the +watchman, he passed his arm through Sir Norman's, and drew him back to +the door of Leoline's house. + +“There is a light within,” he said, looking up at it; “how comes that?” + +“I found the lamp burning, when I returned, and everything undisturbed. +They must have entered noiselessly, and carried her off without a +struggle,” replied Sir Norman, with a sort of groan. + +“Have you searched the house--searched it well?” + +“Thoroughly--from top to bottom!” + +“It seems to me there ought to be some trace. Will you come back with me +and look again?” + +“It is no use; but there is nothing else I can do; so come along!” + +They entered the house, and Sir Norman led the page direct to Leoline's +room, where the light was. + +“I left her here when I went away, and here the lamp was burning when I +came back: so it must have been from this room she was taken.” + +Hubert was gazing slowly and critically round, taking note of +everything. Something glistened and flashed on the floor, under the +mantel, and he went over and picked it up. + +“What have you there?” asked Sir Norman in surprise; for the boy had +started so suddenly, and flushed so violently, that it might have +astonished any one. + +“Only a shoe-buckle--a gentleman's--do you recognize it?” + +Though he spoke in his usual careless way, and half-hummed the air of +one of Lord Rochester's love songs, he watched him keenly as he examined +it. It was a diamond buckle, exquisitely set, and of great beauty and +value; but Sir Norman knew nothing of it. + +“There are initials upon it--see there!” said Hubert, pointing, and +still watching him with the same powerful glance. “The letters C. S. +That can't stand for Count L'Estrange.” + +“Who then can it stand for?” inquired Sir Norman, looking at him +fixedly, and with far more penetration than the court page had given him +credit for. “I am certain you know.” + +“I suspect!” said the boy, emphatically, “nothing more; and if it is +as I believe, I will bring you news of Leoline before you are two hours +older.” + +“How am I to know you are not deceiving me, and will not betray her into +the power of the Earl of Rochester--if, indeed, she be not in his power +already.” + +“She is not in it, and never will be through me! I feel an odd interest +in this matter, and I will be true to you, Sir Norman--though why I +should be, I really don't know. I give you my word of honor that I will +do what I can to find Leoline and restore her to you; and I have never +yet broken my word of honor to any man,” said Hubert, drawing himself +up. + +“Well, I will trust you, because I cannot do anything better,” said Sir +Norman, rather dolefully; “but why not let me go with you?” + +“No, no! that would never do! I must go alone, and you must trust me +implicitly. Give me your hand upon it.” + +They shook hands silently, went down stairs, and stood for a moment at +the door. + +“You'll find me here at any hour between this and morning,” said Sir +Norman. “Farewell now, and Heaven speed you!” + +The boy waved his hand in adieu, and started off at a sharp pace. Sir +Norman turned in the opposite direction for a short walk, to cool the +fever in his blood, and think over all that had happened. As he went +slowly along, in the shadow of the houses, he suddenly tripped up over +something lying in his path, and was nearly precipitated over it. + +Stooping down to examine the stumbling-block, it proved to be the rigid +body of a man, and that man was Ormiston, stark and dead, with his face +upturned to the calm night-sky. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. THE HIDDEN FACE + +When Mr. Malcolm Ormiston, with his usual good sense and penetration, +took himself off, and left Leoline and Sir Norman tete-a-tete, his +steps turned as mechanically as the needle to the North Pole toward La +Masque's house. Before it he wandered, around it he wandered, like an +uneasy ghost, lost in speculation about the hidden face, and fearfully +impatient about the flight of time. If La Masque saw him hovering aloof +and unable to tear himself away, perhaps it might touch her obdurate +heart, and cause her to shorten the dreary interval, and summon him to +her presence at once. Just then some one opened the door, and his heart +began to beat with anticipation; some one pronounced his name, and, +going over, he saw the animated bag of bones--otherwise his lady-love's +vassal and porter. + +“La Masque says,” began the attenuated lackey, and Ormiston's heart +nearly jumped out of his mouth, “that she can't have anybody hanging +about her house like its shadow; and she wants you to go away, and keep +away, till the time comes she has mentioned.” + +So saying the skeleton shut the door, and Ormiston's heart went down to +zero. There being nothing for it but obedience, however, he slowly and +reluctantly turned away, feeling in his bones, that if ever he came to +the bliss and ecstasy of calling La Masque Mrs. Ormiston, the gray mare +in his stable would be by long odds the better horse. Unintentionally +his steps turned to the water-side, and he descended the flight of +stairs, determined to get into a boat and watch the illumination from +the river. + +Late as was the hour, the Thames seemed alive with ferries and barges, +and their numerous lights danced along the surface like fire-flies over +a marsh. A gay barge, gilded and cushioned, was going slowly past; and +as he stood directly under the lamp, he was recognized by a gentleman +within it, who leaned over and hailed him, + +“Ormiston! I say, Ormiston!” + +“Well, my lord,” said Ormiston, recognizing the handsome face and +animated voice of the Earl of Rochester. + +“Have you any engagement for the next half-hour? If not, do me the favor +to take a seat here, and watch London in flames from the river.” + +“With all my heart,” said Ormiston, running down to the water's edge, +and leaping into the boat. “With all this bustle of life around here, +one would think it were noonday instead of midnight.” + +“The whole city is astir about these fires. Have you any idea they will +be successful?” + +“Not the least. You know, my lord, the prediction runs, that the plague +will rage till the living are no longer able to bury the dead.” + +“It will soon come to that,” said the earl shuddering slightly, “if it +continues increasing much longer as it does now daily. How do the bills +of mortality run to-day?” + +“I have not heard. Hark! There goes St. Paul's tolling twelve.” + +“And there goes a flash of fire--the first among many. Look, look! How +they spring up into the black darkness.” + +“They will not do it long. Look at the sky, my lord.” + +The earl glanced up at the midnight sky, of a dull and dingy red color, +except where black and heavy clouds were heaving like angry billows, all +dingy with smoke and streaked with bars of fiery red. + +“I see! There is a storm coming, and a heavy one! Our worthy burghers +and most worshipful Lord Mayor will see their fires extinguished +shortly, and themselves sent home with wet jackets.” + +“And for weeks, almost month, there has not fallen a drop of rain,” + remarked Ormiston, gravely. + +“A remarkable coincidence, truly. There seems to be a fatality hanging +over this devoted city.” + +“I wonder your lordship remains?” + +The earl shrugged his shoulders significantly. + +“It is not so easy leaving it as you think, Mr. Ormiston; but I am +to turn my back to it to-morrow for a brief period. You are aware, I +suppose, that the court leaves before daybreak for Oxford.” + +“I believe I have heard something of it--how long to remain?” + +“Till Charles takes it into his head to come back again,” said the earl, +familiarly, “which will probably be in a week or two. Look at that sky, +all black and scarlet; and look at those people--I scarcely thought +there were half the number left alive in London.” + +“Even the sick have come out to-night,” said Ormiston. “Half the +pest-stricken in the city have left their beds, full of newborn hope. +One would think it were a carnival.” + +“So it is--a carnival of death! I hope, Ormiston,” said the earl, +looking at him with a light laugh, “the pretty little white fairy we +rescued from the river is not one of the sick parading the streets.” + +Ormiston looked grave. + +“No, my lord, I think she is not. I left her safe and secure.” + +“Who is she, Ormiston?” coaxed the earl, laughingly. “Pshaw, man! don't +make a mountain out of a mole-hill! Tell me her name!” + +“Her name is Leoline.” + +“What else?” + +“That is just what I would like to have some one tell me. I give you my +honor, my lord, I do not know.” + +The earl's face, half indignant, half incredulous, wholly curious, made +Ormiston smile. + +“It is a fact, my lord. I asked her her name, and she told me Leoline--a +pretty title enough, but rather unsatisfactory.” + +“How long have you known her?” + +“To the best of my belief,” said Ormiston, musingly, “about four hours.” + +“Nonsense!” cried the earl, energetically. “What are you telling me, +Ormiston? You said she was an old friend.” + +“I beg your pardon, my lord, I said no such thing. I told you she had +escaped from her friends, which was strictly true.” + +“Then how the demon had you the impudence to come up and carry her off +in that style? I certainly had a better right to her than you--the right +of discovery; and I shall call upon you to deliver her up!” + +“If she belonged to me I should only be too happy to oblige your +lordship,” laughed Ormiston; “but she is at present the property of Sir +Norman Kingsley, and to him you must apply.” + +“Ah! His inamorata, is she? Well, I must say his taste is excellent; but +I should think you ought to know her name, since you and he are noted +for being a modern Damon and Pythias.” + +“Probably I should, my lord, only Sir Norman, unfortunately, does not +know himself.” + +The earl's countenance looked so utterly blank at this announcement, +that Ormiston was forced to throw in a word of explanation. + +“I mean to say, my lord, that he has fallen in love with her; and, +judging from appearances, I should say his flame is not altogether +hopeless, although they have met to-night for the first time.” + +“A rapid passion. Where have you left her, Ormiston?” + +“In her own house, my lord,” Ormiston replied, smiling quietly to +himself. + +“Where is that?” + +“About a dozen yards from where I stood when you called me.” + +“Who are her family?” continued the earl, who seemed possessed of a +devouring curiosity. + +“She has none that I know of. I imagine Mistress Leoline is an orphan. +I know there was not a living soul but ourselves in the house I brought +her to.” + +“And you left her there alone?” exclaimed the earl, half starting up, as +if about to order the boatman to row back to the landing. + +Ormiston looked at his excited face with a glance full of quiet malice. + +“No, my lord, not quits; Sir Norman Kingsley was with her!” + +“Oh!” said the earl, smiling back with a look of chagrin. “Then he will +probably find out her name before he comes away. I wonder you could give +her up so easily to him, after all your trouble!” + +“Smitten, my lord?” inquired Ormiston, maliciously. + +“Hopelessly!” replied the earl, with a deep sigh. “She was a perfect +little beauty; and if I can find her, I warn Sir Norman Kingsley to take +care! I have already sent Hubert out in search of her; and, by the way,” + said the earl, with a sudden increase of animation, “what a wonderful +resemblance she bears to Hubert--I could almost swear they were one and +the same!” + +“The likeness is marvelous; but I should hate to take such an oath. I +confess I am somewhat curious myself; but I stand no chance of having it +gratified before to-morrow, I suppose.” + +“How those fires blaze! It is much brighter than at noon-day. Show me +the house in which Leoline lies?”. + +Ormiston easily pointed it out, and showed the earl the light still +burning in her window. + +“It was in that room we found her first, dead of the plague!” + +“Dead of the what?” cried the earl, aghast. + +“Dead of the plague! I'll tell your lordship how it was,” said Ormiston, +who forthwith commend and related the story of their finding Leoline; +of the resuscitation at the plague-pit; of the flight from Sir Norman's +house, and of the delirious plunge into the river, and miraculous cure. + +“A marvelous story,” commented the earl, much interested. “And Leoline +seems to have as many lives as a cat! Who can she be--a princess in +disguise--eh, Ormiston?” + +“She looks fit to be a princess, or anything else; but your lordship +knows as much about her, now, as I do.” + +“You say she was dressed as a bride--how came that?” + +“Simply enough. She was to be married to-night, had she not taken the +plague instead.” + +“Married? Why, I thought you told me a few minutes ago she was in love +with Kingsley. It seems to me, Mr. Ormiston, your remarks are a trifle +inconsistent,” said the earl, in a tone of astonished displeasure. + +“Nevertheless, they are all perfectly true. Mistress Leoline was to be +married, as I told you; but she was to marry to please her friends, and +not herself. She had been in the habit of watching Kingsley go past +her window; and the way she blushed, and went through the other little +motions, convinces me that his course of true love will ran as smooth as +this glassy river runs at present.” + +“Kingsley is a lucky fellow. Will the discarded suitor have no voice in +the matter; or is he such a simpleton as to give her up at a word?” + +Ormiston laughed. + +“Ah! to be sure; what will the count say? And, judging from some things +I've heard, I should say he is violently in love with her.” + +“Count who?” asked Rochester. “Or has he, like his ladylove, no other +name?” + +“Oh, no! The name of the gentleman who was so nearly blessed for life, +and missed it, is Count L'Estrange!” + +The earl had been lying listlessly back, only half intent upon his +answer, as he watched the fire; but now he sprang sharply up, and stared +Ormiston full in the face. + +“Count what did you say?” was his eager question, while his eyes, more +eager than his voice, strove to read the reply before it was repeated. + +“Count L'Estrange. You know him, my lord?” said Ormiston, quietly. + +“Ah!” said the earl. And then such a strange meaning smile went +wandering about his face. “I have not said that! So his name is Count +L'Estrange? Well, I don't wonder now at the girl's beauty.” + +The earl sank back to his former nonchalant position and fell for a +moment or two into deep musing; and then, as if the whole thing struck +him in a new and ludicrous light, he broke out into an immoderate fit of +laughter. Ormiston looked at him curiously. + +“It is my turn to ask questions, now, my lord. Who is Count L'Estrange?” + +“I know of no such person, Ormiston. I was thinking of something else! +Was it Leoline who told you that was her lover's name?” + +“No; I heard it by mere accident from another person. I am sure, if +Leoline is not a personage in disguise, he is.” + +“And why do you think so?” + +“An inward conviction, my lord. So you will not tell me who he is?” + +“Have I not told you I know of no such person as Count L'Estrange? You +ought to believe me. Oh, here it comes.” + +This last was addressed to a great drop of rain, which splashed +heavily on his upturned face, followed by another and another in quick +succession. + +“The storm is upon us,” said the earl, sitting up and wrapping his cloak +closer around him, “and I am for Whitehall. Shall we land you, Ormiston, +or take you there, too?” + +“I must land,” said Ormiston. “I have a pressing engagement for the next +half-hour. Here it is, in a perfect deluge; the fires will be out in +five minutes.” + +The barge touched the stairs, and Ormiston sprang out, with “Good-night” + to the earl. The rain was rushing along, now, in torrents, and he ran +upstairs and darted into an archway of the bridge, to seek the shelter. +Some one else had come there before him, in search of the same thing; +for he saw two dark figures standing within it as he entered. + +“A sudden storm,” was Ormiston's salutation, “and a furious one. There +go the fires--hiss and splutter. I knew how it would be.” + +“Then Saul and Mr. Ormiston are among the prophets?” + +Ormiston had heard that voice before; it was associated in his mind with +a slouched hat and shadowy cloak; and by the fast-fading flicker of the +firelight, he saw that both were here. The speaker was Count L'Estrange; +the figure beside him, slender and boyish, was unknown. + +“You have the advantage of me, sir,” he said affecting ignorance. “May I +ask who you are?” + +“Certainly. A gentlemen, by courtesy and the grace of God.” + +“And your name?” + +“Count L'Estrange, at your service.” + +Ormiston lifted his cap and bowed, with a feeling somehow, that the +count was a man in authority. + +“Mr. Ormiston assisted in doing a good deed, tonight, for a friend of +mine,” said the count. + +“Will he add to that obligation by telling me if he has not discovered +her again, and brought her back?” + +“Do you refer to the fair lady in yonder house?” + +“So she is there? I thought so, George,” said the count, addressing +himself to his companion. “Yes, I refer to her, the lady you saved from +the river. You brought her there?” + +“I brought her there,” replied Ormiston. + +“She is there still?” + +“I presume so. I have heard nothing to the contrary.” + +“And alone?” + +“She may be, now. Sir Norman Kingsley was with her when I left her,” + said Ormiston, administering the fact with infinite relish. + +There was a moment's silence. Ormiston could not see the count's face; +but, judging from his own feelings, he fancied its expression must be +sweet. The wild rush of the storm alone broke the silence, until the +spirit again moved the count to speak. + +“By what right does Sir Norman Kingsley visit her?” he inquired, in a +voice betokening not the least particle of emotion. + +“By the best of rights--that of her preserver, hoping soon to be her +lover.” + +There was an other brief silence, broken again by the count, in the same +composed tone: + +“Since the lady holds her levee so late, I, too, must have a word +with her, when this deluge permits one to go abroad without danger of +drowning.” + +“It shown symptoms of clearing off, already,” said Ormiston, who, in his +secret heart, thought it would be an excellent joke to bring the rivals +face to face in the lady's presence; “so you will not have long to +wait.” + +To which observation the count replied not; and the three stood in +silence, watching the fury of the storm. + +Gradually it cleared away; and as the moon began to straggle out between +the rifts in the clouds, the count saw something by her pale light that +Ormiston saw not. That latter gentleman, standing with his back to the +house of Leoline, and his face toward that of La Masque, did not observe +the return of Sir Norman from St. Paul's, nor look after him as he rode +away. But the count did both; and ten minutes after, when the rain had +entirely ceased, and the moon and stars got the better of the clouds in +their struggle for supremacy, he beheld La Masque flitting like a dark +shadow in the same direction, and vanishing in at Leoline's door. The +same instant, Ormiston started to go. + +“The storm has entirely ceased,” he said, stepping out, and with the +profound air of one making a new discovery, “and we are likely to have +fine weather for the remainder of the night--or rather, morning. Good +night, count.” + +“Farewell,” said the count, as he and, his companion came out from the +shadow of the archway, and turned to follow La Masque. + +Ormiston, thinking the hour of waiting had elapsed, and feeling much +more interested in the coming meeting than in Leoline or her visitors, +paid very little attention to his two acquaintances. He saw them, it +is true, enter Leoline's house, but at the same instant, he took up his +post at La Masque's doorway, and concentrated his whole attention on +that piece of architecture. Every moment seemed like a week now; and +before he had stood at his post five minutes, he had worked himself up +into a perfect fever of impatience. Sometimes he was inclined to knock +and seek La Masque in her own home; but as often the fear of a chilling +rebuke paralyzed his hand when he raised it. He was so sure she was +within the house, that he never thought of looking for her elsewhere; +and when, at the expiration of what seemed to him a century or two, +but which in reality was about a quarter of an hour, there was a soft +rustling of drapery behind him, and the sweetest of voices sounded in +his ear, it fairly made him bound. + +“Here again, Mr. Ormiston? Is this the fifth or sixth time I've found +you in this place to-night?” + +“La Masque!” he cried, between joy and surprise. “But surely, I was not +totally unexpected this time?” + +“Perhaps not. You are waiting here for me to redeem my promise, I +suppose?” + +“Can you doubt it? Since I knew you first, I have desired this hour as +the blind desire sight.” + +“Ah! And you will find it as sweet to look back upon as you have to look +forward to,” said La Masque, derisively. “If you are wise for yourself, +Mr. Ormiston, you will pause here, and give me back that fatal word.” + +“Never, madame! And surely you will not be so pitilessly cruel as to +draw back, now?” + +“No, I have promised, and I shall perform; and let the consequences be +what they may, they will rest upon your own head. You have been warned, +and you still insist.” + +“I still insist!” + +“Then let us move farther over here into the shadow of the houses; this +moonlight is so dreadfully bright!” + +They moved on into the deep shadow, and there was a pulse throbbing in +Ormiston's head and heart like the beating of a muffed drum. They paused +and faced each other silently. + +“Quick, madame!” cried Ormiston, hoarsely, his whole face flushed +wildly. + +His strange companion lifted her hand as if to remove the mask, and he +saw that it shook like an aspen. She made one motion as though about to +lift it, and then recoiled, as if from herself, in a sort of horror. + +“My God! What is this man urging me to do? How can I ever fulfill that +fatal promise?” + +“Madame, you torture me!” said Ormiston, whose face showed what he felt. +“You must keep your promise; so do not drive me wild waiting. Let me--” + +He took a step toward her, as if to lift the mask himself, but she held +out both arms to keep him off. + +“No, no, no! Come not near me, Malcolm Ormiston! Fated man, since you +will rush on your doom, Look! and let the sight blast you, if it will!” + +She unfastened her mask, raised it, and with it the profusion of long, +sweeping black hair. + +Ormiston did look--in much the same way, perhaps, that Zulinka looked +at the Veiled Prophet. The next moment there was a terrible cry, and he +fell headlong with a crash, as if a bullet had whined through his heart. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. THE INTERVIEW. + +I am not aware whether fainting was as much the fashion among the fair +sex, in the days (or rather the nights) of which I have the honor to +hold forth, as at the present time; but I am inclined to think not, +from the simple fact that Leoline, though like John Bunyan, “grievously +troubled and tossed about in her mind,” did nothing of the kind. For the +first few moments, she was altogether too stunned by the suddenness of +the shock to cry out or make the least resistance, and was conscious of +nothing but of being rapidly borne along in somebody's arms. When this +hazy view of things passed away, her new sensation was, the intensely +uncomfortable one of being on the verge of suffocation. She made one +frantic but futile effort to free herself and scream for help, but the +strong arms held her with most loving tightness, and her cry was drowned +in the hot atmosphere within the shawl, and never passed beyond it. Most +assuredly Leoline would have been smothered then and there, had their +journey been much longer; but, fortunately for her, it was only the few +yards between her house and the river. She knew she was then carried +down some steps, and she heard the dip of the oars in the water, and +then her bearer paused, and went through a short dialogue with somebody +else--with Count L'Estrange, she rather felt than knew, for nothing was +audible but a low murmur. The only word she could make out was a low, +emphatic “Remember!” in the count's voice, and then she knew she was in +a boat, and that it was shoved off, and moving down the rapid river. The +feeling of heat and suffocation was dreadful and as her abductor placed +her on some cushions, she made another desperate but feeble effort to +free herself from the smothering shawl, but a hand was laid lightly on +hers, and a voice interposed. + +“Lady, it is quite useless for you to struggle, as you are irrevocably +in my power, but if you will promise faithfully not to make any outcry, +and will submit to be blindfolded, I shall remove this oppressive +muffling from your head. Tell me if you will promise.” + +He had partly raised the shawl, and a gush of free air came revivingly +in, and enabled Leoline to gasp out a faint “I promise!” As she spoke, +it was lifted off altogether, and she caught one bright fleeting glimpse +of the river, sparkling and silvery in the moonlight; of the bright blue +sky, gemmed with countless stars, and of some one by her side in the +dress of a court-page, whose face was perfectly unknown to her. The next +instant, a bandage was bound tightly over her eyes, excluding every ray +of light, while the strange voice again spoke apologetically, + +“Pardon, lady, but it is my orders! I am commanded to treat you with +every respect, but not to let you see where you are borne to.” + +“By what right does Count L'Estrange commit this outrage!” began +Leoline, almost as imperiously as Miranda herself, and making use of her +tongue, like a true woman, the very first moment it was at her disposal. +“How dare he carry me off in this atrocious way? Whoever you are, sir, +if you have the spirit of a man, you will bring me directly back to my +own house.” + +“I am very sorry, lady, but I have received orders that must be obeyed! +You must come with me, but you need fear nothing; you will be as safe +and secure as in your own home.” + +“Secure enough, no doubt!” said Leoline, bitterly. “I never did like +Count L'Estrange, but I never knew he was a coward and a villain till +now!” + +Her companion made no reply to this forcible address, and there was a +moment's indignant silence on Leoline's part, broken only by the dip of +the oars, and the rippling of the water. Then, + +“Will you not tell me, at least, where you are taking me to?” haughtily +demanded Leoline. + +“Lady, I cannot! It was to prevent you knowing, that you have been +blindfolded.” + +“Oh! your master has a faithful servant, I see! How long am I to be kept +a prisoner?” + +“I do not know.” + +“Where is Count L'Estrange?” + +“I cannot tell.” + +“Where am I to see him?” + +“I cannot say.” + +“Ha!” said Leoline, with infinite contempt, and turning her back upon +him she relapsed into gloomy silence. It had all been so sudden, and had +taken her so much by surprise, that she had not had time to think of the +consequences until now. But now they came upon her with a rush, and with +dismal distinctness; and most distinct among all was, what would Sir +Norman say! Of course, with all a lover's impatience, he would be at +his post by sunrise, would come to look for his bride, and find himself +sold! By that time she would be far enough away, perhaps a melancholy +corpse (and at this dreary passage in her meditations, Leoline sighed +profoundly), and he would never know what had become of her, or how much +and how long she had loved him. And this hateful Count L'Estrange, what +did he intend to do with her? Perhaps go so far as to make her marry +him, and imprison her with the rest of his wives; for Leoline was +prepared to think the very worst of the count, and had not the slightest +doubt that he already had a harem full of abducted wives, somewhere. But +no--he never could do that, he might do what he liked with weaker minds, +but she never would be a bride of his while the plague or poison was to +be had in London. And with this invincible determination rooted fixedly, +not to say obstinately, in her mind, she was nearly pitched overboard +by the boat suddenly landing at some unexpected place. A little natural +scream of terror was repressed on her lips by a hand being placed over +them, and the determined but perfectly respectful tones of the person +beside her speaking. + +“Remember your promise, lady, and do not make a noise. We have arrived +at our journey's end, and if you will take my arm, I will lead you +along, instead of carrying you.” + +Leoline was rather surprised to find the journey so short, but she arose +directly, with silence and dignity--at least with as much of the latter +commodity as could be reasonably expected, considering that boats on +water are rather unsteady things to be dignified in--and was led gently +and with care out of the swaying vessel, and up another flight of +stairs. Then, in a few moments, she was conscious of passing from the +free night air into the closer atmosphere of a house; and in going +through an endless labyrinth of corridors, and passages, and suites of +rooms, and flights of stairs, until she became so extremely tired, +that she stopped with spirited abruptness, and in the plainest possible +English, gave her conductor to understand that they had gone about far +enough for all practical purposes. To which that patient and respectful +individual replied that he was glad to inform her they had but a few +more steps to go, which the next moment proved to be true, for he +stopped and announced that their promenade was over for the night. + +“And I suppose I may have the use of my eyes at last?” inquired Leoline, +with more haughtiness than Sir Norman could have believed possible so +gentle a voice could have expressed. + +For reply, her companion rapidly untied the bandage, and withdrew it +with a flourish. The dazzling brightness that burst upon her, so blinded +her, that for a moment she could distinguish nothing; and when she +looked round to contemplate her companion, she found him hurriedly +making his exit, and securely locking the door. + +The sound of the key turning in the lock gave her a most peculiar +sensation, which none but those who have experienced it can properly +understand. It is not the most comfortable feeling in the world to know +you are a prisoner, even if you have no key turned upon you but the +weather, and your jailer be a high east wind and lashing rain. Leoline's +prison and jailer were something worse; and, for the first time, a chill +of fear and dismay crept icily to the core of her heart. But Leoline had +something of Miranda's courage, as well as her looks and temper; so +she tried to feel as brave as possible, and not think of her unpleasant +predicament while there remained anything else to think about. Perhaps +she might escape, too; and, as this notion struck her, she looked with +eager anxiety, not unmixed with curiosity, at the place where she was. +By this time, her eyes had been accustomed to the light, which proceeded +from a great antique lamp of bronze, pendent by a brass chain from +the ceiling; and she saw she was in a moderately sized and by no means +splendid room. But what struck her most was, that everything had a look +of age about it, from the glittering oak beams of the floor to the +faded ghostly hangings on the wall. There was a bed at one end--a great +spectral ark of a thing, like a mausoleum, with drapery as old and +spectral as that on the walls, and in which she could no more have lain +than in a moth-eaten shroud. The seats and the one table the room held +were of the same ancient and weird pattern, and the sight of them gave +her a shivering sensation not unlike an ague chill. There was but one +door--a huge structure, with shining panels, securely locked; and escape +from that quarter was utterly out of the question. There was one window, +hung with dark curtains of tarnished embroidery, but in pushing them +aside, she met only a dull blank of unlighted glass, for the shutters +were firmly secured without. Altogether, she could not form the +slightest idea where she was; and, with a feeling of utter despair, she +sat down on one of the queer old chairs, with much the same feeling as +if she were sitting in a tomb. + +What would Sir Norman say? What would he ever think of her, when he +found her gone. And what was destined to be her fate in this dreadful +out-of-the-way place? She would have cried, as most of her sex would be +tempted to do in such a situation, but that her dislike and horror of +Count L'Estrange was a good deal stronger than her grief, and turned her +tears to sparks of indignant fire. Never, never, never! would she be his +wife! He might kill her a thousand times, if he liked, and she wouldn't +yield an inch. She did not mind dying in a good cause; she could do it +but once. And with Sir Norman despising her, as she felt he must do, +when he found her run away, she rather liked the idea than otherwise. +Mentally, she bade adieu to all her friends before beginning to prepare +for her melancholy fate--to her handsome lover, to his gallant friend +Ormiston, to her poor nurse, Prudence, and to her mysterious visitor, La +Masque. + +La Masque! Ah! that name awoke a new chord of recollection--the casket, +she had it with her yet. Instantly, everything was forgotten but it and +its contents; and she placed a chair directly under the lamp, drew it +out, and looked at it. It was a pretty little bijou itself, with its +polished ivory surface, and shining clasps of silver. But the inside had +far more interest for her than the outside, and she fitted the key +and unlocked it with a trembling hand. It was lined with azure velvet, +wrought with silver thread, in dainty wreathe of water lilies; and in +the bottom, neatly folded, lay a sheet of foolscap. She opened it with +nervous haste; it was a common sheet enough, stamped with fool's cap +and bells, that showed it belonged to Cromwell's time. It was closely +written, in a light, fair hand, and bore the title “Leoline's History.” + +Leoline's hand trembled so with eagerness, she could scarcely hold the +paper; but her eye rapidly ran from line to line, and she stopped not +till she reached the end. While she read, her face alternately flushed +and paled, her eyes dilated, her lips parted; and before she finished +it, there came over all a look of the most unutterable horror. It +dropped from her powerless fingers as she finished; and she sank back in +her chair with such a ghastly paleness, that it seemed absolutely like +the lividness of death. + +A sudden and startling noise awoke her from her trance of horror--some +one trying to get in at the window! The chill of terror it sent through +every vein acted as a sort of counter-irritant to the other feeling, +and she sprang from her chair and turned her face fearfully toward the +sounds. But in all her terror she did not forget the mysterious sheet of +foolscap, which lay, looking up at her, on the floor; and she snatched +it up, and thrust it and the casket out of sight. Still the sounds went +on, but softly and cautiously; and at intervals, as if the worker were +afraid of being heard. Leoline went back, step by step, to the other +extremity of the room, with her eyes still fixed on the window, and on +her face a white terror, that left her perfectly colorless. + +Who could it be? Not Count L'Estrange, for he would surely not need +to enter his own house like a burglar--not Sir Norman Kingsley, for he +could certainly not find out her abduction and her prison so soon, and +she had no other friends in the whole wide world to trouble themselves +about her. There was one, but the idea of ever seeing her again was so +unspeakably dreadful, that she would rather have seen the most horrible +spectre her imagination could conjure up, than that tall, graceful, +rich-robed form. + +Still the noises perseveringly continued; there was the sound of +withdrawing bolts, and then a pale ray of moonlight shot between the +parted curtains, shoving the shutters had been opened. Whiter and whiter +Leoline grew, and she felt herself growing cold and rigid with mortal +fear. Softly the window was raised, a hand stole in and parted the +curtains, and a pale face and two great dark eyes wandered slowly round +the room, and rested at last on her, standing, like a galvanized corpse, +as far from the window as the wall would permit. The hand was lifted in +a warning gesture, as if to enforce silence; the window was raised still +higher, a figure, lithe and agile as a cat, sprang lightly into the +room, and standing with his back to her, re-closed the shutters, re-shut +the window, and re-drew the curtains, before taking the trouble to turn +round. + +This discreet little manoeuvre, which showed her visitor was human, and +gifted with human prudence, re-assured Leoline a little; and, to judge +by the reverse of the medal, the nocturnal intruder was nothing +very formidable after all. But the stranger did not keep her long in +suspense; while she stood gazing at him, as if fascinated, he turned +round, stepped forward, took off his cap, made her a courtly bow, +and then straightening himself up, prepared, with great coolness, to +scrutinize and be scrutinized. + +Well might they look at each other; for the two faces were perfectly the +same, and each one saw himself and herself as others saw them. There was +the same coal-black, curling hair; the same lustrous dark eyes; the +same clear, colorless complexion, the same delicate, perfect features; +nothing was different but the costume and the expression. That latter +was essentially different, for the young lady's betrayed amazement, +terror, doubt, and delight all at once; while the young gentleman's was +a grand, careless surprise, mixed with just a dash of curiosity. + +He was the first to speak; and after they had stared at each other for +the space of five minutes, he described a graceful sweep with his hand, +and held forth in the following strain, + +“I greatly fear, fair Leoline, that I have startled you by my sudden and +surprising entrance; and if I have been the cause of a moment's alarm +to one so perfectly beautiful, I shall hate myself for ever after. If I +could have got in any other way, rest assured I would not have risked my +neck and your peace of mind by such a suspicious means of ingress as the +window; but if you will take the trouble to notice, the door is thick, +and I am composed of too solid flesh to whisk through the keyhole; so I +had to make my appearance the best way I could.” + +“Who are you?” faintly asked Leoline. + +“Your friend, fair lady, and Sir Norman Kingsley's.” + +Hubert looked to see Leoline start and blush, and was deeply gratified +to see her do both; and her whole pretty countenance became alive with +new-born hope, as if that name were a magic talisman of freedom and joy. + +“What is your name, and who are you?” she inquired, in a breathless sort +of way, that made Hubert look at her a moment in calm astonishment. + +“I have told you your friend; christened at some remote period, Hubert. +For further particulars, apply to the Earl of Rochester, whose page I +am.” + +“The Earl of Rochester's page!” she repeated, in the same quick, excited +way, that surprised and rather lowered her in that good youth's opinion, +for giving way to any feelings so plebeian. “It is--it must be the +same!” + +“I have no doubt of it,” said Hubert. “The same what?” + +“Did you not come from France--from Dijon, recently?” went on Leoline, +rather inappositely, as it struck her hearer. + +“Certainly I came from Dijon. Had I the honor of being known to you +there?” + +“How strange! How wonderful!” said Leoline, with a paling cheek and +quickened breathing. “How mysterious those things turn out I Thank +Heaven that I have found some one to love at last!” + +This speech, which was Greek, algebra, high Dutch, or thereabouts, to +Master Hubert, caused him to stare to such an extent, that when he +came to think of it afterward, positively shocked him. The two great, +wondering dark eyes transfixing her with so much amazement, brought +Leoline to a sense of her talking unfathomable mysteries, quite +incomprehensible to her handsome auditor. She looked at him with a +smile, held out her hand; and Hubert received a strange little electric +thrill, to see that her eyes were full of tears. He took the hand and +raised it to his lips, wondering if the young lady, struck by his good +looks, had conceived a rash and inordinate attack of love at first +sight, and was about to offer herself to him and discard Sir Norman for +ever. From this speculation, the sweet voice aroused him. + +“You have told me who you are. Now, do you know who I am?” + +“I hope so, fairest Leoline. I know you are the most beautiful lady in +England, and to-morrow will be called Lady Kingsley!” + +“I am something more,” said Leoline, holding his hand between both hers, +and bending near him; “I am your sister!” + +The Earl of Rochester's page must have had good blood in his veins; for +never was there duke, grandee, or peer of the realm, more radically +and unaffectedly nonchalant than he. To this unexpected announcement he +listened with most dignified and well-bred composure, and in his secret +heart, or rather vanity, more disappointed than otherwise, to find his +first solution of her tenderness a great mistake. Leoline held his hand +tight in hers, and looked with loving and tearful eyes in his face. + +“Dear Hubert, you are my brother--my long-unknown brother, and I love +you with my whole heart!” + +“Am I?” said Hubert. “I dare say I am, for they all say we look as much +alike as two peas. I am excessively delighted to hear it, and to know +that you love me. Permit me to embrace my new relative.” + +With which the court page kissed Leoline with emphasis, while she +scarcely knew whether to laugh, cry, or be provoked at his composure. +On the whole, she did a little of all three, and pushed him away with a +halt pout. + +“You insensible mortal! How can you stand there and hear that you have +found a sister with so much indifference?” + +“Indifferent? Not I! You have no idea how wildly excited I am!” said +Hubert, in a voice not betokening the slightest emotion. “How did you +find it out, Leoline?” + +“Never mind! I shall tell you that again. You don't doubt it, I hope?” + +“Of course not! I knew from the first moment I set eyes on you, that if +you were not my sister, you ought to be! I wish you'd tell me all the +particulars, Leoline.” + +“I shall do so as soon as I am out of this; but how can I tell you +anything here?” + +“That's true!” said Hubert, reflectively. “Well, I'll wait. Now, don't +you wonder how I found you out, and came here?” + +“Indeed I do. How was it, Hubert?” + +“Oh, well, I don't know as I can altogether tell you; but you see, Sir +Norman Kingsley being possessed of an inspiration that something was +happening to you, came to your house a short time ago, and, as he +suspected, discovered that you were missing. I met him there, +rather depressed in his mind about it, and he told me--beginning the +conversation, I must say, in a very excited manner,” said Hubert, +parenthetically, as memory recalled the furious shaking he had +undergone--“and he told me he fancied you were abducted, and by one +Count L'Estrange. Now I had a hazy idea who Count L'Estrange was, and +where he would be most apt to take you to; and so I came here, and after +some searching, more inquiring, and a few unmitigated falsehoods (you'll +regret to hear), discovered you were locked up in this place, and +succeeded in getting in through the window. Sir Norman is waiting for +me in a state of distraction so now, having found you, I will go and +relieve his mind by reporting accordingly.” + +“And leave me here?” cried Leoline, in affright, “and in the power of +Count L'Estrange? Oh! no, no! You must take me with you, Hubert!” + +“My dear Leoline, it is quite impossible to do it without help, and +without a ladder. I will return to Sir Norman; and when the darkness +comes that precedes day-dawn, we will raise the ladder to your window, +and try to get you out. Be patient--only wait an hour or two, and then +you will be free.” + +“But, O Hubert, where am I? What dreadful place it this?” + +“Why, I do not know that this is a very dreadful place; and most people +consider it a sufficiently respectable house; but, still, I would rather +see my sister anywhere else than in it, and will take the trouble of +kidnapping her out of it as quickly as possible.” + +“But, Hubert, tell me--do tell me, who is Count L'Estrange?” Hubert +laughed. + +“Cannot, really, Leoline! at least, not until to-morrow, and you are +Lady Kingsley.” + +“But, what if he should come here to-night?” + +“I do not think there is much danger of that, but whether he does or +not, rest assured you shall be free to-morrow! At all events, it is +quite impossible for you to escape with me now; and even as it is, I +run the risk of being detected, and made a prisoner, myself. You must +be patient and wait, Leoline, and trust to Providence and your brother +Hubert!” + +“I must, I suppose!” said Leoline, sighing, “and you cannot take me away +until day-dawn.” + +“Quite impossible; and then all this drapery of yours will be ever so +much in the way. Would you object to garments like these?” pointing to +his doublet and hose. “If you would not, I think I could procure you a +fit-out.” + +“But I should, though!” said Leoline, with spirit “and most decidedly, +too! I shall wear nothing of the kind, Sir Page!” + +“Every one to her fancy!” said Hubert, with a French shrug, “and my +pretty sister shall have hers in spite of earth, air, fire, and water! +And now, fair Leoline, for a brief time, adieu, and au revoir!” + +“You will not fail me!” exclaimed Leoline, earnestly, clasping her +hands. + +“If I do, it shall be the last thing I will fail in on earth; for if I +am alive by to-morrow morning, Leoline shall be free!” + +“And you will be careful--you will both be careful!” + +“Excessively careful! Now then.” + +The last two words were addressed to the window which he noiselessly +opened as he spoke. Leoline caught a glimpse of the bright free +moonlight, and watched him with desperate envy; but the next moment the +shutters were closed, and Hubert and the moonlight were both gone. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. HUBERT'S WHISPER. + +Sir Norman Kingsley's consternation and horror on discovering the dead +body of his friend, was only equalled by his amazement as to how he got +there, or how he came to be dead at all. The livid face, up turned to +the moonlight, was unmistakably the face of a dead man--it was no swoon, +no deception, like Leoline's; for the blue, ghastly paleness that marks +the flight of the soul from the body was stamped on every rigid feature. +Yet, Sir Norman could not realize it. We all know how hard it is to +realize the death of a friend from whom we have but lately parted in +full health and life, and Ormiston's death was so sudden. Why, it was +not quite two hours since they had parted in Leoline's house, and even +the plague could not carry off a victim as quickly as this. + +“Ormiston! Ormiston!” he called, between grief and dismay, as he raised +him in his arms, with his hand over the stilled heart; but Ormiston +answered not, and the heart gave no pulsation beneath his fingers. He +tore open his doublet, as the thought of the plague flashed through his +mind, but no plague-spot was to be seen, and it was quite evident, +from the appearance of the face, that he had not died of the distemper, +neither was there any wound or mark to show that he had met his end +violently. Yet the cold, white face was convulsed, as if he had died in +throes of agony, the hands were clenched, till the nails sank into the +flesh; and that was the only outward sign or token that he had suffered +in expiring. + +Sir Norman was completely at a loss, and half beside himself, with +a thousand conflicting feelings of sorrow, astonishment, and +mystification. The rapid and exciting events of the night had turned +his head into a mental chaos, as they very well might, but he still had +commonsense enough left to know that something must be done about this +immediately. He knew the best place to take Ormiston was to the nearest +apothecary's shop, which establishments were generally open, and filled, +the whole livelong night, by the sick and their friends. As he was +meditating whether or not to call the surly watchman to help him carry +the body, a pest-cart came, providentially, along, and the driver-seeing +a young man bending over a prostrate form-guessed at once what was the +matter, and came to a halt. + +“Another one!” he said, coming leisurely up, and glancing at the +lifeless form with a very professional eye. “Well, I think there is room +for another one in the cart; so bear a hand, friend, and let us have him +out of this.” + +“You are mistaken!” said Sir Norman sharply, “he has not died of the +plague. I am not even certain whether he is dead at all.” + +The driver looked at Sir Norman, then stooped down and touched +Ormiston's icy face, and listened to hear him breathe. He stood up after +a moment, with some thing like a small laugh. + +“If he's alive,” he said, turning to go, “then I never saw any one dead! +Good night, sir, I wish you joy when you bring him to.” + +“Stay!” exclaimed the young man, “I wish you to assist me in bringing +him to yonder apothecary's shop, and you may have this for your pains.” + +“This” proved to be a talisman of alacrity; for the man pocketed it, and +briskly laid hold of Ormiston by the feet, while Sir Norman wrapped his +cloak reverently about him and took him by the shoulders. In this style +his body was conveyed to the apothecary's shop which they found half +full of applicants for medicine, among whom their entrance with the +corpse produced no greater sensation than a momentary stare. The attire +and bearing of Sir Norman proving him to be something different from +their usual class of visitors, bringing one of the drowsy apprentices +immediately to his side, inquiring what were his orders. + +“A private room, and your master's attendance directly,” was the +authoritative reply. + +Both were to be had; the former, a hole in the wall behind the shop; the +latter, a pallid, cadaverous-looking person, with the air of one who had +been dead a week, thought better of it and rose again. There was a +long table in the aforesaid hole in the wall, bearing a strong family +likeness to a dissecting-table; upon which the stark figure was laid, +and the pest-cart driver disappeared. The apothecary held a mirror +close to the face; applied his ear to the pulse and heart; held a +pocket-mirror over his mouth, looked at it; shook his head; and set down +the candle with decision. + +“The man is dead, sir!” was his criticism, “dead as a door nail! All the +medicine in the shop wouldn't kindle one spark of life in such ashes!” + +“At least, try! Try something--bleeding for instance,” suggested Sir +Norman. + +Again the apothecary examined the body, and again he shook his head +dolefully. + +“It's no use, sir: but, if it will please, you can try.” + +The right arm was bared; the lancet inserted, one or two black drops +sluggishly followed and nothing more. + +“It's all a waste of time, you see,” remarked the apothecary, wiping his +dreadful little weapon, “he's as dead as ever I saw anybody in my life! +How did he come to his end, sir--not by the plague?” + +“I don't know,” said Sir Norman, gloomily. “I wish you would tell me +that.” + +“Can't do it, sir; my skill doesn't extend that far. There is no +plague-spot or visible wound or bruise on the person; so he must have +died of some internal complaint--probably disease of the heart.” + +“Never knew him to have such a thing,” said Sir Norman, sighing. “It +is very mysterious and very dreadful, and notwithstanding all you have +said, I cannot believe him dead. Can he not remain here until morning, +at least?” + +The starved apothecary looked at him out of a pair of hollow, melancholy +eyes. + +“Gold can do anything,” was his plaintive reply. + +“I understand. You shall have it. Are you sure you can do nothing more +for him?” + +“Nothing whatever, sir; and excuse me, but there are customers in the +shop, and I must leave, sir.” + +Which he did, accordingly; and Sir Norman was left alone with all that +remained of him who, two hours before, was his warm friend. He could +scarcely believe that it was the calm majesty of death that so changed +the expression of that white face, and yet, the longer he looked, the +more deeply an inward conviction assured him that it was so. He chafed +the chilling hands and face, he applied hartshorn and burnt feathers to +the nostrils, but all these applications, though excellent in their way, +could not exactly raise the dead to life, and, in this case, proved +a signal failure. He gave up his doctoring, at last, in despair, and +folding his arms, looked down at what lay on the table, and tried +to convince himself that it was Ormiston. So absorbed was he in the +endeavor, that he heeded not the passing moments, until it struck +him with a shock that Hubert might even now be waiting for him at the +trysting-place, with news of Leoline. Love is stronger than friendship, +stronger than grief, stronger than death, stronger than every other +feeling in the world; so he suddenly seized his hat, turned his back on +Ormiston and the apothecary's shop, and strode off to the place he had +quitted. + +No Hubert was there, but two figures were passing slowly along in the +moonlight, and one of them he recognized, with an impulse to spring +at him like a tiger and strangle him. But he had been so shocked and +subdued by his recent discovery, that the impulse which, half an hour +before, would have been unhesitatingly obeyed, went for nothing, now; +and there was more of reproach, even, than anger in his voice, as he +went over and laid his hand on the shoulder of one of them. + +“Stay!” he said. “One word with you, Count L'Estrange. What have you +done with Leoline!” + +“Ah! Sir Norman, as I live!” cried the count wheeling round and lifting +his hat. “Give me good even--or rather, good morning--Kingsley, for St. +Paul's has long gone the midnight hour.” + +Sir Norman, with his hand still on his shoulder, returned not the +courtesy, and regarding the gallant count with a stern eye. + +“Where is Leoline?” he frigidly repeated. + +“Really,” said the count, with some embarrassment, “you attack me so +unexpectedly, and so like a ghost or a highwayman--by the way I have a +word to say to you about highwaymen, and was seeking you to say it.” + +“Where is Leoline?” shouted the exasperated young knight, releasing his +shoulder, and clutching him by the throat. “Tell me or, by Heaven! I'll +pitch you neck and heels into the Thames!” + +Instantly the sword of the count's companion flashed in the moonlight, +and, in two seconds more, its blue blade would have ended the earthly +career of Sir Norman Kingsley, had not the count quickly sprang back, +and made a motion for his companion to hold. + +“Wait!” he cried, commandingly, with his arm outstretched to each. “Keep +off! George, sheathe your sword and stand aside. Sir Norman Kingsley, +one word with you, and be it in peace.” + +“There can be no peace between us,” replied that aggravated young +gentleman, fiercely “until you tell me what has become of Leoline.” + +“All in good time. We have a listener, and does it not strike you our +conference should be private!” + +“Public or private, it matters not a jot, so that you tell me what +you've done with Leoline,” replied Sir Norman, with whom it was evident +getting beyond this question was a moral and physical impossibility. +“And if you do not give an account of yourself, I'll run you through as +sure as your name is Count L'Estrange!” + +A strange sort of smile came over the face of the count at this direful +threat, as if he fancied in that case, he was safe enough; but Sir +Norman, luckily, did not see it, and heard only the suave reply: + +“Certainly, Sir Norman; I shall be delighted to do so. Let us stand over +there in the shadow of that arch; and, George, do you remain here within +call.” + +The count blandly waved Sir Norman to follow, which Sir Norman did, with +much the mein of a sulky lion; and, a moment after, both were facing +each other within the archway. + +“Well!” cried the young knight, impatiently; “I am waiting. Go on!” + +“My dear Kingsley,” responded the count, in his easy way, “I think you +are laboring under a little mistake. I have nothing to go on about; it +is you who are to begin the controversy.” + +“Do you dare to play with me?” exclaimed Sir Norman, furiously. “I tell +you to take care how you speak! What have you done with Leoline?” + +“That is the fourth or fifth time that you've asked me that question,” + said the count, with provoking indifference. “What do you imagine I have +done with her?” + +Sir Norman's feelings, which had been rising ever since their meeting, +got up to such a height at this aggravating question, that he gave vent +to an oath, and laid his hand on his sword; but the count's hand lightly +interposed before it came out. + +“Not yet, Sir Norman. Be calm; talk rationally. What do you accuse me of +doing with Leoline?” + +“Do you dare deny having carried her off?” + +“Deny it? No; I am never afraid to father my own deeds.” + +“Ah!” said Sir Norman grinding his teeth. “Then you acknowledge it?” + +“I acknowledge it--yes. What next?” + +The perfect composure of his tone fell like a cool, damp towel on the +fire of Sir Norman's wrath. It did not quite extinguish the flame, +however--only quenched it a little--and it still hissed hotly +underneath. + +“And you dare to stand before me and acknowledge such an act?” exclaimed +Sir Norman, perfectly astounded at the cool assurance of the man. + +“Verily, yea,” said the count, laughing. “I seldom take the trouble to +deny my acts. What next?” + +“There is nothing next,” said Sir Norman, severely, “until we have come +to a proper understanding about this. Are you aware, sir, that that lady +is my promised bride?” + +“No, I do not know that I am. On the contrary, I have an idea she is +mine.” + +“She was, you mean. You know she was forced into consenting by yourself +and her nurse!” + +“Still she consented; and a bond is a bond, and a promise a promise, all +the world over.” + +“Not with a woman,” said Sir Norman, with stern dogmatism. “It is their +privilege to break their promise and change their mind sixty times an +hour, if they choose. Leoline has seen fit to do both, and has accepted +me in your stead; therefore I command you instantly to give her up!” + +“Softly, my friend--softly. How was I to know all this?” + +“You ought to have known it!” returned Sir Norman, in the same +dogmatical way; “or if you didn't, you do now; so say no more about it. +Where is she, I tell you?” repeated the young man, in a frenzy. + +“Your patience one moment longer, until we see which of us has the best +right to the lady. I have a prior claim.” + +“A forced one. Leoline does not care a snap far you--and she loves me.” + +“What extraordinary bad taste!” said the count, thoughtfully. “Did she +tell you that?” + +“Yes; she did tell me this, and a great deal more. Come--have done +talking, and tell me where she is, or I'll--” + +“Oh, no, you wouldn't!” said the count, teasingly. “Since matters stand +in this light I'll tell you what I'll do. I acknowledge that I carried +off Leoline, viewing her as my promised bride, and have sent her to my +own home in the care of a trusty messenger, where I give you my word of +honor, I have not been since. She is as safe there, and much safer than +in her own house, until morning, and it would be a pity to disturb her +at this unseasonable hour. When the morning comes, we will both go to +her together--state our rival claims--and whichever one she decides on +accepting, can have her, and end the matter at once.” + +The count paused and meditated. This proposal was all very plausible +and nice on the surface, but Sir Norman with his usual penetration and +acuteness, looked farther than the surface, and found a flaw. + +“And how am I to know,” he asked, doubtingly, “that you will not go to +her to-night and spirit her off where I will never hear of either of you +again?” + +“In the very best way in the world: we will not part company until +morning comes, are we at peace?” inquired the count, smiling and holding +out but hand. + +“Until then, we will have to be, I suppose,” replied Sir Norman, rather +ungraciously taking the hand as if it were red-hot, and dropping +it again. “And we are to stand here and rail at each other, in the +meantime?” + +“By no means! Even the most sublime prospect tires when surveyed too +long. There is a little excursion which I would like you to accompany me +on, if you have no objection.” + +“Where to?” + +“To the ruin, where you have already been twice to-night.” + +Sir Norman stared. + +“And who told you this fact, Sir Count?” + +“Never mind; I have heard it. Would you object to a third excursion +there before morning?” + +Again Sir Norman paused and meditated. There was no use in staying where +he was, that would bring him no nearer to Leoline, and nothing was to be +gained by killing the count beyond the mere transitory pleasure of +the thing. On the other hand, he had an intense and ardent desire +to re-visit the ruin, and learn what had become of Miranda--the only +draw-back being that, if they were found they would both be most +assuredly beheaded. Then, again, there was Hubert. + +“Well,” inquired the count, as Sir Norman looked up. + +“I have no objection to go with you to the ruin,” was the reply, “only +this; if we are seen there, we will be dead men two minutes after; and +I have no desire to depart this life until I have had that promised +interview with Leoline.” + +“I have thought of that,” said the count, “and have provided for it. We +may venture in the lion's den without the slightest danger: all that is +required being your promise to guide us thither. Do you give it?” + +“I do; but I expect a friend here shortly, and cannot start until he +comes.” + +“If you mean me by that, I am here,” said a voice at his elbow; and, +looking round, he saw Hubert himself, standing there, a quiet listener +and spectator of the scene. + +Count L'Estrange looked at him with interest, and Hubert, affecting not +to notice the survey, watched Sir Norman. + +“Well,” was that individual's eager address, “were you successful?” + +The count was still watching the boy so intently, that that most +discreet youth was suddenly seized with a violent fit of coughing, which +precluded all possibility of reply for at least five minutes; and Sir +Norman, at the same moment, felt his arm receive a sharp and warning +pinch. + +“Is this your friend?” asked the count. “He is a very small one, and +seems in a bad state of health.” + +Sir Norman, still under the influence of the pinch, replied by an +inaudible murmur, and looked with a deeply mystified expression, at +Hubert. + +“He bears a strong resemblance to the lady we were talking of a moment +ago,” continued the count--“is sufficiently like her, in fact, to be her +brother; and, I see wears the livery of the Earl of Rochester.” + +“God spare you your eye-sight!” said Sir Norman, impatiently. “Can +you not see, among the rest, that I have a few words to say to him in +private? Permit us to leave you for a moment.” + +“There is no need to do so. I will leave you, as I have a few words to +say to the person who is with me.” + +So saying the count walked away, and Hubert followed him with a most +curious look. + +“Now,” cried Sir Norman, eagerly, “what news?” + +“Good!” said the boy. “Leoline is safe!” + +“And where?” + +“Not far from here. Didn't he tell you?” + +“The count? No--yes; he said she was at his house.” + +“Exactly. That is where she is,” said Hubert, looking much relieved. +“And, at present, perfectly safe.” + +“And did you see her?” + +“Of course; and heard her too. She was dreadfully anxious to come with +me; but that was out of the question.” + +“And how is she to be got away?” + +“That I do not clearly see. We will have to bring a ladder, and there +will be so much danger, and so little chance of success, that, to me it +seems an almost hopeless task. Where did you meet Count L'Estrange?” + +“Here; and he told me that he had abducted her, and held her a prisoner +in his own house.” + +“He owned that did he? I wonder you were not fit to kill him?” + +“So I was, at first, but he talked the matter over somehow.” + +And hereupon Sir Norman briefly and quickly rehearsed the substance of +their conversation. Hubert listened to it attentively, and laughed as he +concluded. + +“Well, I do not see that you can do otherwise, Sir Norman, and I +think it would be wise to obey the count for to-night, at least. Then +to-morrow--if things do not go on well, we can take the law in our own +hands.” + +“Can we?” said Sir Norman, doubtfully, “I do wish you would tell me who +this infernal count is, Hubert, for I am certain you know.” + +“Not until to-morrow--you shall know him then.” + +“To-morrow! to-morrow!” exclaimed Sir Norman, disconsolately. +“Everything is postponed until to-morrow! Oh, here comes the count back +again. Are we going to start now, I wonder?” + +“Is your friend to accompany us on our expedition?” inquired the count, +standing before them. “It shall be quite as you say, Mr. Kingsley.” + +“My friend can do as he pleases. What do you say, Hubert?” + +“I should like to go, of all things, if neither of you have any +objections.” + +“Come on, then,” said the count, “we will find horses in readiness a +short distance from this.” + +The three started together, and walked on in silence through several +streets, until they reached a retired inn, where the count's recent +companion stood, with the horses. Count L'Estrange whispered a few words +to him, upon which he bowed and retired; and in an instant they were all +in the saddle, and galloping away. + +The journey was rather a silent one, and what conversation there was, +was principally sustained by the count. Hubert's usual flow of pertinent +chat seemed to have forsaken him, and Sir Norman had so many other +things to think of--Leoline, Ormiston, Miranda, and the mysterious count +himself--that he felt in no mood for talking. Soon, they left the city +behind them; the succeeding two miles were quickly passed over, and +the “Golden Crown,” all dark and forsaken, now hove in sight. As they +reached this, and cantered up the road leading to the ruin, Sir Norman +drew rein, and said: + +“I think our best plan would be, to dismount, and lead our horses the +rest of the way, and not incur any unnecessary danger by making a noise. +We can fasten them to these trees, where they will be at hand when we +come out.” + +“Wait one moment,” said the count, lifting his finger with a listening +look. “Listen to that!” + +It was a regular tramp of horses' hoofs, sounding in the silence like a +charge of cavalry. While they looked, a troop of horsemen came galloping +up, and came to a halt when they saw the count. + +No words can depict the look of amazement Sir Norman's face wore; +but Hubert betrayed not the least surprise. The count glanced at his +companions with a significant smile, and riding back, held a brief +colloquy with him who seemed the leader of the horsemen. He rode up to +them, smiling still, and saying, as he passed, + +“Now then, Kingsley; lead on, and we will follow!” + +“I go not one step further,” said Sir Norman, firmly, “until I know who +I am leading. Who are you, Count L'Estrange?” + +The count looked at him, but did not answer. A warning hand--that of +Hubert--grasped Sir Norman's arm; and Hubert's voice whispered hurriedly +in his ear: + +“Hush, for God's sake! It is the king!” + + + + + +CHAPTER XX. AT THE PLAGUE-PIT. + +The effect of the whisper was magical. Everything that had been dark +before, became clear as noonday; and Sir Norman sat absolutely astounded +at his own stupidity in not having found it out for himself before. +Every feature, notwithstanding the disguise of wig and beard, became +perfectly familiar; and even through the well-assumed voice, he +recognized the royal tones. It struck him all at once, and with it the +fact of Leoline's increased danger. Count L'Estrange was a formidable +rival, but King Charles of England was even more formidable. + +Thought is quick--quicker than the electric telegraph or balloon +traveling; and in two seconds the whole stated things, with all the +attendant surprises and dangers, danced before his mind's eye like a +panorama; and he comprehended the past, the present, and the future, +before Hubert had uttered the last word of his whisper. He turned his +eyes, with a very new and singular sensation, upon the quondam +count, and found that gentlemen looking very hard at him, with, a +preternaturally grave expression of countenance. Sir Norman knew well as +anybody the varying moods of his royal countship, and, notwithstanding +his general good nature, it was not safe to trifle with him at all +times; so he repressed every outward sign of emotion whatever, and +resolved to treat him as Count L'Estrange until he should choose to sail +under his own proper colors. + +“Well,” said the count, with unruffled eagerness, “and so you decline to +go any further Sir Norman?” + +Hubert's eye was fixed with a warning glance upon him, and Sir Norman +composedly answered + +“No, count; I do not absolutely decline; but before I do go any further, +I should like to know by what right do you bring all these men here, and +what are your intentions in so doing.” + +“And if I refuse to answer?” + +“Then I refuse to move a step further in the business!” said Sir Norman, +with decision. + +“And why, my good friend? You surely can have no objection to anything +that can be done against highwaymen and cut-throats.” + +“Right! I have no objections, but others may.” + +“Whom do you mean by others?” + +“The king, for instance. His gracious majesty is whimsical at times; and +who knows that he may take it into his royal head to involve us somehow +with them. I know the adage, 'put not your trust in princes.'” + +“Very good,” said the count, with a slight and irrepressible smile; +“your prudence is beyond all praise! But I think, in this matter I may +safely promise to stand between you and the king's wrath. Look at those +horsemen beyond you, and see if they do not wear the uniform of his +majesty's own body-guard.” + +Sir Norman looked, and saw the dazzling of their splendid equipments +glancing and glistening in the moonbeams. + +“I see. Then you have the royal permission for all this?” + +“You have said it. Now, most scrupulous of men, proceed!” + +“Look there!” exclaimed Hubert, suddenly pointing to a corner of the +rain. “Someone has seen us, and is going now to give the alarm.” + +“He shall miss it, though!” said Sir Norman, detecting, at the same +instant, a dark figure getting through the broken doorway; and striking +spurs into his horse, he was instantaneously beside it, out of the +saddle, and had grasped the retreater by the shoulder. + +“By your leave!” exclaimed Sir Norman. “Not quite so fast! Stand out +here in the moonlight, until I see who you are.” + +“Let me go!” cried the man, grappling with his opponent. “I know who you +are, and I swear you'll never see moonlight or sunlight again, if you do +not instantly let me go.” + +Sir Norman recognized the voice with a perfect shout of delight. + +“The duke, by all that's lucky! O, I'll let you go: but not until the +hangman gets hold of you. Villain and robber, you shall pay for your +misdeeds now!” + +“Hold!” shouted the commanding voice of Count L'Estrange. “Cease, Sir +Norman Kingsley! there is no time, and this is no person for you to +scoff with. He is our prisoner, and shall show us the nearest way into +this den of thieves. Give me your sword, fellow, and be thankful I do +not make you shorter by a head with it.” + +“You do not know him!” cried Sir Norman; in vivid excitement. “I tell +you this is the identical scoundrel who attempted to rob and murder you +a few hours ago.” + +“So much the better! He shall pay for that and all his other +shortcomings, before long! But, in the meantime, I order him to bring us +before the rest of this outlawed crew.” + +“I shall do nothing of the kind,” said the duke, sullenly. + +“Just as you please. Here, my men, two of you take hold of this +scoundrel, and dispatch him at once.” + +The guard had all dismounted; and two of them came forward with edifying +obedience, to do as they were told. + +The effect upon the duke was miraculous. Instantly he started up, with +an energy perfectly amazing: + +“No, no, no! I'll do it! Come this way, gentlemen, and I'll bring you +direct into their midst. O good Lord! whatever will become of us?” + +This last frantic question was addressed to society in general, but Sir +Norman felt called upon to answer: + +“That's very easily told, my man. If you and the rest of your titled +associates receive your deserts (as there is no doubt you will) from the +gracious hand of our sovereign lord, the king, the strongest rope and +highest gallows at Tyburn will be your elevated destiny.” + +The duke groaned dismally, and would have come to a halt to beg mercy on +the spot, had not Hubert given him a probe in, the ribs with the point +of his dagger, that sent him on again, with a distracted howl. + +“Why, this is a perfect Hades!” said the count, as he stumbled after, in +the darkness. “Are you sure we are going right, Kingsley?” + +The inquiry was not unnatural, for the blackness was perfectly +Tartarian, and the soldiers behind were knocking their tall shins +against all sorts of obstacles as they groped blindly along, invoking +from them countless curses, not loud, but deep. + +“I don't know whether we are or not,” said Sir Norman significantly; +“only, God help him if we're not! Where are you taking us to, you +black-looking bandit?” + +“I give you my word of honor, gentlemen,” said an imploring voice in +the darkness, “that I'm leading you, by the nearest way, to the Midnight +Court. All I ask of you in return is, that you will let me enter before +you; for if they find that I lead you in, my life will not be worth a +moment's purchase.” + +“As if it ever was worth it,” said Sir Norman, contemptuously. “On with +you, and be thankful I don't save your companions the trouble, by making +an end of you where you stand.” + +“Rush along, old fellow,” suggested Hubert, giving him another poke with +his dagger, that drew forth a second doleful howl. + +Notwithstanding the darkness, Sir Norman discovered that they were being +led in a direction exactly opposite that by which he had previously +effected an entrance. They were in the vault, he knew, by the darkness, +though they had descended no staircase, and he was just wondering +if their guide was not meditating some treachery by such a circuitous +route, when suddenly a tumult of voices, and uproar, and confusion, met +his ear. At the same instant, their guide opened a door, revealing a +dark passage, illuminated by a few rays of light, and which Sir Norman +instantly recognized as that leading to the Black Chamber. Here again +the duke paused, and turned round to them with a wildly-imploring face. + +“Gentlemen, I do conjure you to let me enter before you do! I tell you +they will murder me the very instant they discover I have led you here!” + +“That would be a great pity!” said the count; “and the gallows will be +cheated of one of its brightest ornaments! That is your den of thieves, +I suppose, from which all this uproar comes?” + +“It is. And as I have guided you safely to it, surely I deserve this +trifling boon.” + +“Trifling, do you call it,” interposed Sir Norman, “to let you make +your escape, as you most assuredly will do the moment you are out of our +sight! No, no; we are too old birds to be caught with such chaff; and +though the informer always gets off scot-free, your services deserve no +such boon; for we could have found our way without your help! On with +you, Sir Robber; and if your companions do kill you, console yourself +with the thought that they have only anticipated the executioner by a +few days!” + +With a perfectly heart-rending groan, the unfortunate duke walked on; +but when they reached the archway directly before the room, he came to +an obstinate halt, and positively refused to go a step farther. It was +death, anyway, and he resisted with the courage of desperation, +feeling he might as well die there as go in and be assassinated by his +confederates, and not even the persuasive influence of Hubert's dagger +could prevail on him to budge an inch farther. + +“Stay, then!” said the count, with perfect indifference. “And, soldiers, +see that he does not escape! Now, Kingsley, let us just have a glimpse +of what is going on within.” + +Though the party had made considerable noise in advancing, and had +spoken quite loudly in their little animated discussion with the duke, +so great was the turmoil and confusion within, that it was not heeded, +or even heard. With very different feelings from those with which he had +stood there last, Sir Norman stepped forward and stood beside the count, +looking at the scene within. + +The crimson court was in a state of “most admired disorder,” and the +confusion of tongues was equal to Babel. No longer were they languidly +promenading, or lolling in the cushioned chairs; but all seemed running +to and fro in the wildest excitement, which the grandest duke among +them seemed to share equally with the terrified white sylphs. Everybody +appeared to be talking together, and paying no attention whatever to +the sentiments of their neighbors. One universal centre of union alone +seemed to exist, and that was the green, judicial table near the throne, +upon which, while all tongues ran, all eyes turned. For some minutes, +neither of the beholders could make out why, owing to the crowd +(principally of the ladies) pressing around it; but Sir Norman guessed, +and thrilled through with a vague sensation of terror, lest it should +prove to be the dead body of Miranda. Skipping in and out among the +females he saw the dwarf, performing a sort of war dance of rage and +frenzy; twining both hands in his wig, as if he would have torn it out +by the roots, and anon tearing at somebody else's wig, so that everybody +backed off when he came near them. + +“Who is that little fiend?” inquired the count; “and what have they got +there at the and of the room, pray?” + +“That little fiend is the ringleader here, and is entitled Prince +Caliban. Regarding your other question,” said Sir Norman, with a faint +thrill, “there was a table there when I saw it last, but I am afraid +there is something worse now.” + +“Could ever any mortal conceive of such a scene,” observed the count +to himself; “look at that little picture of ugliness; how he hops about +like a dropsical bull-frog. Some of those women are very pretty, too, +and outshine more than one court-beauty that I have seen. Upon my word, +it is the most extraordinary spectacle I ever heard of. I wonder what +they've got that's so attractive down there?” + +At the same moment, a loud voice within the circle abruptly exclaimed + +“She revives, she revives! Back, back, and give her air!” + +Instantly, the throng swayed and fell back; and the dwarf, with a sort +of yell (whether of rage or relief, nobody knew), swept them from side +to side with a wave of his long arms, and cleared a wide vacancy for +his own especial benefit. The action gave the count an opportunity +of gratifying his curiosity. The object of attraction was now plainly +visible. Sir Norman's surmises had been correct. The green table of the +parliament-house of the midnight court had been converted, by the aid of +cushions and pillows, into an extempore couch; and half-buried in their +downy depths lay Miranda, the queen. The sweeping robe of royal purple, +trimmed with ermine, the circlets of jewels on arms, bosom, and head, +she still wore, and the beautiful face was whiter than fallen snow. +Yet she was not dead, as Sir Norman had dreaded; for the dark eyes were +open, and were fixed with an unutterable depth of melancholy on vacancy. +Her arms lay helplessly by her side, and someone, the court physician +probably, was bending over her and feeling her pulse. + +As the count's eyes fell upon her, he started back, and grasped Sir +Norman's arm with consternation. + +“Good heavens, Kingsley!” he cried; “it is Leoline, herself!” + +In his excitement he had spoken so loud, that in the momentary silence +that followed the physician's direction, his voice had rung through the +room, and drew every eye upon them. + +“We are seen, we are seen!” shouted Hubert, and as he spoke, a terrible +cry idled the room. In an instant every sword leaped from its scabbard, +and the shriek of the startled women rang appallingly out on the air. +Sir Norman drew his sword, too; but the count, with his eyes yet fixed +on Miranda, still held him by the arm, and excitedly exclaimed, + +“Tell me, tell me, is it Leoline?” + +“Leoline! No--how could it be Leoline? They look alike, that's all. Draw +your sword, count, and defend yourself; we are discovered, and they are +upon us!” + +“We are upon them, you mean, and it is they who are discovered,” said +the count, doing as directed, and stepping boldly in. “A pretty hornet's +nest is this we have lit upon, if ever there was one.” + +Side by side with the count, with a dauntless step and eye, Sir Norman +entered, too; and, at sight of him a burst of surprise and fury rang +from lip to lip. There was a yell of “Betrayed, betrayed!” and the +dwarf, with a face so distorted by fiendish fury that it was scarcely +human, made a frenzied rush at him, when the clear, commanding voice of +the count rang like a bugle blast through the assembly, + +“Sheathe your swords, the whole of you, and yield yourselves prisoners. +In the king's name, I command you to surrender.” + +“There is no king here but I!” screamed the dwarf, gnashing his teeth, +and fairly foaming with rage. “Die; traitor and spy! You have escaped me +once, but your hour is come now.” + +“Allow me to differ from you,” said Sir Norman, politely, as he evaded +the blindly-frantic lunge of the dwarf's sword, and inserted an inch or +two of the point of his own in that enraged little prince's anatomy. “So +far from my hour having come--if you will take the trouble to reflect +upon it--you will find it is the reverse, and that my little friend's +brief and brilliant career is rapidly drawing to a close.” + +At these bland remarks, and at the sharp thrust that accompanied them, +the dwarfs previous war-dance of anxiety was nothing to the horn-pipe +of exasperation he went through when Sir Norman ceased. The blood was +raining from his side, and from the point of his adversary's sword, as +he withdrew it; and, maddened like a wild beast at the sight of his own +blood, he screeched, and foamed, and kicked about his stout little legs, +and gnashed his teeth, and made grabs at his wig, and lashed the air +with his sword, and made such desperate pokes with it, at Sir Norman and +everybody else who came in his way, that, for the public good, the +young knight run him through the sword-arm, and, in spite of all his +distracted didos, captured him by the help of Hubert, and passed him +over to the soldiers to cheer and keep company with the duke. + +This brisk little affair being over, Sir Norman had time to look about +him. It had all passed in so short a space, and the dwarf had been so +desperately frantic, that the rest had paused involuntarily, and were +still looking on. Missing the count, he glanced around the room, and +discovered him standing on Miranda's throne, looking over the company +with the cool air of a conqueror. Miranda, aroused, as she very well +might be by all this screaming and fighting, had partly raised herself +upon her elbow, and was looking wildly about her. As her eye fell on Sir +Norman, she sat fairly erect, with a cry of exultation and joy. + +“You have come, you have come, as I knew you would,” she excitedly +cried, “and the hour of retribution is at hand!” + +At the words of one who, a few moments before, they had supposed to be +dead, an awestruck silence fell; and the count, taking advantage of it, +waved his hand, and cried, + +“Yield yourselves prisoners, I command you! The royal guards are +without; and the first of you who offers the slightest resistance will +die like a dog! Ho, guards! enter, and seize your prisoners!” + +Quick as thought the room was full of soldiers! but the rest of the +order was easier said than obeyed. The robbers, knowing their doom +was death, fought with the fury of desperation, and a short, wild, and +terrible conflict ensued. Foremost in the melee was Sir Norman and the +count; while Hubert, who had taken possession of the dwarf's sword, +fought like a young lion. The shrieks of the women were heart-rending, +as they all fled, precipitately, into the blue dining-room; and, +crouching in corners, or flying distractedly about--true to their +sex--made the air resound with the most lamentable cries. Some five or +six, braver than the rest, alone remained; and more than one of these +actually mixed in the affray, with a heroism worthy a better cause. +Miranda, still sitting erect, and supported in the arms of a +kneeling and trembling sylph in white, watched the conflict with +terribly-exultant eyes, that blazed brighter and brighter with the lurid +fire of vengeful joy at every robber that fell. + +“Oh, that I were strong enough to wield a sword!” was her fierce +aspiration every instant; “if I could only mix in that battle for five +minutes, I could die with a happy heart!” + +Had she been able to wield a sword for five minutes, according to her +wish, she would probably have wielded it from beginning to end of the +battle; for it did not last much longer than that. The robbers fought +with fury and ferocity; but they had been taken by surprise, and were +overpowered by numbers, and obliged to yield. + +The crimson court was indeed crimson now; for the velvet carpeting was +dyed a more terrible red, and was slippery with a rain of blood! A score +of dead and dying lay groaning on the ground; and the rest, beaten and +bloody, gave up their swords and surrendered. + +“You should have done this at first!” said the count, coolly wiping his +blood-stained weapon, and replacing it in its sheath; “and, by so doing, +saved some time and more bloodshed. Where are all the fair ladies, +Kingsley, I saw here when we entered first?” + +“They fled like a flock of frightened deer,” said Hubert, taking it upon +himself to answer, “through yonder archway when the fight commenced. I +will go in search of them if you like.” + +“I am rather at a loss what to do with them,” said the count, +half-laughing. “It would be a pity to bring such a cavalcade of pretty +women into the city to die of the plague. Can you suggest nothing, Sir +Norman?” + +“Nothing, but to leave then here to take care of themselves, or let them +go free.” + +“They would be a great addition to the court at Whitehall,” suggested +Hubert, in his prettiest tone, “and a thousand times handsomer than +half the damsels therein. There, for instance, is one a dozen timer more +beautiful than Mistress Stuart herself!” + +Leaning, in his nonchalant way, on the hilt of his sword, he pointed to +Miranda, whose fiercely-joyful eyes were fixed with a glance that made +the three of them shudder, on the bloody floor and the heap of slain. + +“Who is that?” asked the count, curiously. “Why is she perched up there, +and why does she bear such an extraordinary resemblance to Leoline? Do +you know anything about her, Kingsley?” + +“I know she is the wife of that unlovely little man, whose howls in +yonder passage you can hear, if you listen, and that she was the queen +of this midnight court, and is wounded, if not dying, now!” + +“I never saw such fierce eyes before in a female head! One would think +she fairly exulted in this wholesale slaughter of her subjects.” + +“So she does; and she hates both her husband and her subjects, with an +intensity you cannot conceive.” + +“How very like royalty!” observed Hubert, in parenthesis. “If she were a +real queen, she could not act more naturally.” + +Sir Norman smiled, and the count glanced at the audacious page, +suspiciously; but Hubert's face was touching to witness, in its innocent +unconsciousness. Miranda, looking up at the same time, caught the young +knight's eye, and made a motion for him to approach. She held out +both her hands to him as he came near, with the same look of dreadful +delight. + +“Sir Norman Kingsley, I am dying, and my last words are in thanksgiving +to you for having thus avenged me!” + +“Let me hope you have many days to live yet, fair lady,” said Sir +Norman, with the same feeling of repulsion he had experienced in the +dungeon. “I am sorry you have been obliged to witness this terrible +scene.” + +“Sorry!” she cried, fiercely. “Why, since the first hour I remember at +all, I remember nothing that has given me such joy as what has passed +now; my only regret is that I did not see them all die before my eyes! +Sorry! I tell you I would not have missed it for ten thousand worlds!” + +“Madame, you must not talk like this!” said Sir Norman, almost sternly. +“Heaven forbid there should exist a woman who could rejoice in bloodshed +and death. You do not, I know. You wrong yourself and your own nature in +saying so. Be calm, now; do not excite yourself. You shall come with us, +and be properly cared for; and I feel certain you have a long and happy +life before you yet.” + +“Who are those men?” she said, not heeding him, “and who--ah, great +Heaven! What is that?” + +In looking round, she had met Hubert face to face. She knew that that +face was her own; and, with a horror stamped on every feature that no +words can depict, she fell back, with a terrible scream and was dead! + +Sir Norman was so shocked by the suddenness of the last catastrophe, +that, for some time, he could not realize that she had actually expired, +until he bent over her, and placed his ear to her lips. No breath was +there; no pulse stirred in that fierce heart--the Midnight Queen was +indeed dead! + +“Oh, this is fearful!” exclaimed Sir Norman, pale and horrified. + +“The sight of Hubert, and his wonderful resemblance to her, has +completed what her wound and this excitement began. Her last is breathed +on earth!” + +“Peace be with her!” said the count, removing his hat, which, up to +the present, he had worn. “And now, Sir Norman, if we are to keep our +engagement at sunrise, we had better be on the move; for, unless I am +greatly mistaken, the sky is already grey with day-dawn.” + +“What are your commands?” asked Sir Norman, turning away, with a sigh, +from the beautiful form already stiffening in death. + +“That you come with me to seek out those frightened fair ones, who are +a great deal too lovely to share the fate of their male companions. I +shall give them their liberty to go where they please, on condition that +they do not enter the city. We have enough vile of their class there +already.” + +Sir Norman silently followed him into the azure and silver saloon, where +the crowd of duchesses and countesses were “weeping and wringing their +hands,” and as white as so many pretty ghosts. In a somewhat brief and +forcible manner, considering his characteristic gallantry, the count +made his proposal, which, with feelings of pleasure and relief, was at +once acceded to; and the two gentlemen bowed themselves out, and left +the startled ladies. + +On returning to the crimson court, he commanded a number of his soldiers +to remain and bury the dead, and assist the wounded; and then, followed +by the remainder and the prisoners under their charge, passed out, and +were soon from the heated atmosphere in the cool morning air. The moon +was still serenely shining, but the stars that kept the earliest hours +were setting, and the eastern sky was growing light with the hazy gray +of coming morn. + +“I told you day-dawn was at hand,” said the count, as he sprang into his +saddle; “and, lo! in the sky it is gray already.” + +“It is time for it!” said Sir Norman, as he, too, got into his seat; +“this has been the longest night I have ever known, and the most +eventful one of my life.” + +“And the end is not yet! Leoline waits to decide between us!” + +Sir Norman shrugged his shoulders. + +“True! But I have little doubt what that decision will be! I presume you +will have to deliver up your prisoners before you can visit her, and I +will avail myself of the opportunity to snatch a few moments to fulfill +a melancholy duty of my own.” + +“As you please. I have no objection; but in that case you will need some +one to guide you to the place of rendezvous; so I will order my private +attendant, yonder, to keep you in sight, and guide you to me when your +business is ended.” + +The count had given the order to start, the moment they had left +the ruin, and the conversation had been carried on while riding at a +break-neck gallop. Sir Norman thanked him for his offer, and they rode +in silence until they reached the city, and their paths diverged; Sir +Norman's leading to the apothecary's shop where he had left Ormiston, +and the count's leading--he best knew where. George--the attendant +referred to--joined the knight, and leaving his horse in his care, Sir +Norman entered the shop, and encountered the spectral proprietor at the +door. + +“What of my friend?” was his eager inquiry. “Has he yet shown signs of +returning consciousness?” + +“Alas, no!” replied the apothecary, with a groan, that came wailing +up like a whistle; “he was so excessively dead, that there was no use +keeping him; and as the room was wanted for other purposes, I--pray, my +dear sir, don't look so violent--I put him in the pest-cart and had him +buried.” + +“In the plague-pit!” shouted Sir Norman, making a spring at him; but the +man darted off like a ghostly flash into the inner room, and closed and +bolted the door in a twinkling. + +Sir Norman kicked at it spitefully, but it resisted his every effort; +and, overcoming a strong temptation to smash every bottle in the shop, +he sprang once more into the saddle, and rode off to the plague-pit. +It was the second time within the last twelve hours he had stood there; +and, on the previous occasion, he who now lay in it, had stood by +his side. He looked down, sickened and horror-struck. Perhaps, before +another morning, he, too, might be there; and, feeling his blood run +cold at the thought, he was turning away, when some one came rapidly +up, and sank down with a moaning gasping cry on its very edge. That +shape--tall and slender, and graceful--he well knew; and, leaning over +her, he laid his hand on her shoulder, and exclaimed: + +“La Masque!” + + + + + +CHAPTER, XXI. WHAT WAS BEHIND THE MASK. + +The cowering form rose up; but, seeing who it was, sank down again, with +its face groveling in the dust, and with another prolonged, moaning cry. + +“Madame Masque!” he said, wonderingly; “what is this?” + +He bent to raise her; but, with a sort of scream she held out her arms +to keep him back. + +“No, no, no! Touch me not! Hate me--kill me! I have murdered your +friend!” + +Sir Norman recoiled as if from a deadly serpent. + +“Murdered him! Madame, in Heaven's name, what have you said?” + +“Oh, I have not stabbed him, or poisoned him, or shot him; but I am +his murderer, nevertheless!” she wailed, writhing in a sort of gnawing +inward torture. + +“Madame, I do not understand you at all! Surely you are raving when you +talk like this.” + +Still moaning on the edge of the plague-pit, she half rose up, with both +hands clasped tightly over her heart, as if she would have held back +from all human ken the anguish that was destroying her, + +“NO--no! I am not mad--pray Heaven I were! Oh, that they had strangled +me in the first hour of my birth, as they would a viper, rather than I +should have lived through all this life of misery and guilt, to end it +by this last, worst crime of all!” + +Sir Norman stood and looked at her still with a dazed expression. He +knew well enough whose murderer she called herself; but why she did +so, or how she could possibly bring about his death, was a mystery +altogether too deep for him to solve. + +“Madame, compose yourself, I beseech you, and tell me what you mean. It +is to my friend, Ormiston, you allude--is it not?” + +“Yes--yes! surely you need not ask.” + +“I know that he is dead, and buried in this horrible place; but why you +should accuse yourself of murdering him, I confess I do not know.” + +“Then you shall!” she cried, passionately. “And you will wonder at it no +longer! You are the last one to whom the revelation can ever be made on +earth; and, now that my hours are numbered, it matters little whether it +is told or not! Was it not you who first found him dead?” + +“It was I--yes. And how he came to his end, I have been puzzling myself +in vain to discover ever since.” + +She rose up, drew herself to her full majestic height, and looked at him +with a terrible glance, + +“Shall I tell you?” + +“You have had no hand in it,” he answered, with a cold chill at the tone +and look, “for he loved you!” + +“I have had a hand in it--I alone have been the cause of it. But for me +he would be living still!” + +“Madame,” exclaimed Sir Norman, in horror. + +“You need not look as if you thought me mad, for I tell you it is +Heaven's truth! You say right--he loved me; but for that love he would +be living now!” + +“You speak in riddles which I cannot read. How could that love have +caused his death, since his dearest wishes were to be granted to-night?” + +“He told you that, did he?” + +“He did. He told me you were to remove your mask; and if, on seeing you, +he still loved you, you were to be his wife.” + +“Then woe to him for ever having extorted such a promise from me! Oh, +I warned him again, and again, and again. I told him how it would be--I +begged him to desist; but no, he was blind, he was mad; he would rush on +his own doom! I fulfilled my promise, and behold the result!” + +She pointed with a frantic gesture to the plague-pit, and wrung her +beautiful hands with the same moaning of anguish. + +“Do I hear aright?” said Sir Norman, looking at her, and really doubting +if his ears had not deceived him. “Do you mean to say that, in keeping +your word and showing him your face, you have caused his death?” + +“I do. I had warned him of it before. I told him there were sights too +horrible to look on and live, but nothing would convince him! Oh, why +was the curse of life ever bestowed upon such a hideous thing as I!” + +Sir Norman gazed at her in a state of hopeless bewilderment. He had +thought, from the moment he saw her first, that there was something +wrong with her brain, to make her act in such a mysterious, eccentric +sort of way; but he had never positively thought her so far gone as +this. In his own mind, he set her down, now, as being mad as a March +hare, and accordingly answered in that soothing tone people use to +imbeciles, + +“My dear Madame Masque, pray do not excite yourself, or say such +dreadful things. I am sure you would not willfully cause the death of +any one, much less that of one who loved you as he did.” + +La Masque broke into a wild laugh, almost worse to hear than her former +despairing moans. + +“The man thinks me mad! He will not believe, unless he sees and knows +for himself! Perhaps you, too, Sir Norman Kingsley,” she cried, +changing into sudden fierceness, “would like to see the face behind +this mask?--would like to see what has slain your friend, and share his +fate?” + +“Certainly,” said Sir Norman. “I should like to see it; and I think I +may safely promise not to die from the effects. But surely, madame, you +deceive yourself; no face, however ugly--even supposing you to possess +such a one--could produce such dismay as to cause death.” + +“You shall see.” + +She was looking down into the plague-pit, standing so close to its +cracking edge, that Sir Norman's blood ran cold, in the momentary +expectation to see her slip and fall headlong in. Her voice was less +fierce and less wild, but her hands were still clasped tightly over her +heart, as if to ease the unutterable pain there. Suddenly, she looked +up, and said, in an altered tone: + +“You have lost Leoline?” + +“And found her again. She is in the power of one Count L'Estrange.” + +“And if in his power, pray, how have you found her?” + +“Because we are both to meet in her presence within this very hour, and +she is to decide between us.” + +“Has Count L'Estrange promised you this?” + +“He has.” + +“And you have no doubt what her decision will be?” + +“Not the slightest.” + +“How came you to know she was carried off by this count?” + +“He confessed it himself.” + +“Voluntarily?” + +“No; I taxed him with it, and he owned to the deed; but he voluntarily +promised to take me to her and abide by her decision.” + +“Extraordinary!” said La Masque, as if to herself. “Whimsical as he is, +I scarcely expected he would give her up so easily as this.” + +“Then you know him, madame?” said Sir Norman, pointedly. + +“There are few things I do not know, and rare are the disguises I cannot +penetrate. So you have discovered it, too?” + +“No, madame, my eyes were not sharp enough, nor had I sufficient +cleverness, even, for that. It was Hubert, the Earl of Rochester's page, +who told me who he was.” + +“Ah, the page!” said La Masque, quickly. “You have then been speaking to +him? What do you think of his resemblance to Leoline?” + +“I think it is the most astonishing resemblance I ever saw. But he is +not the only one who bears Leoline's face.” + +“And the other is?” + +“The other is she whom you sent me to see in the old ruins. Madame, I +wish you would tell me the secret of this wonderful likeness; for I am +certain you know, and I am equally certain it is not accidental.” + +“You are right. Leoline knows already; for, with the presentiment that +my end was near, I visited her when you left, and gave her her whole +history, in writing. The explanation is simple enough. Leoline, Miranda, +and Hubert, are sisters and brother.” + +Some misty idea that such was the case had been struggling through Sir +Norman's slow mind, unformed and without shape, ever since he had seen +the trio, therefore he was not the least astonished when he heard the +fact announced. Only in one thing he was a little disappointed. + +“Then Hubert is really a boy?” he said, half dejectedly. + +“Certainly he is. What did you take him to be?” + +“Why, I thought--that is, I do not know,” said Sir Norman, quite +blushing at being guilty of so much romance, “but that he was a woman +in disguise. You see he is so handsome, and looks so much like Leoline, +that I could not help thinking so.” + +“He is Leoline's twin brother--that accounts for it. When does she +become your wife?” + +“This very morning, God willing!” said Sir Norman, fervently. + +“Amen! And may her life and yours be long and happy. What becomes of the +rest?” + +“Since Hubert is her brother, he shall come with us, if he will. As for +the other, she, alas! is dead.” + +“Dead!” cried La Masque. “How? When? She was living, tonight!” + +“True! She died of a wound.” + +“A wound? Surely not given by the dwarfs hand?” + +“No, no; it was quite accidental. But since you know so much of the +dwarf, perhaps you also know he is now the king's prisoner?” + +“I did not know it; but I surmised as much when I discovered that you +and Count L'Estrange, followed by such a body of men, visited the ruin. +Well, his career has been long and dark enough, and even the plague +seemed to spare him for the executioner. And so the poor mock-queen is +dead? Well, her sister will not long survive her.” + +“Good Heavens, madame!” cried Sir Norman, aghast. “You do not mean to +say that Leoline is going to die?” + +“Oh, no! I hope Leoline has a long and happy life before her. But the +wretched, guilty sister I mean is, myself; for I, too, Sir Norman, am +her sister.” + +At this new disclosure, Sir Norman stood perfectly petrified; and La +Masque, looking down at the dreadful place at her feet, went rapidly on: + +“Alas and alas! that it should be so; but it is the direful truth. We +bear the same name, we had the same father; and yet I have been the +curse and bane of their lives.” + +“And Leoline knows this?” + +“She never knew it until this night, or any one else alive; and no one +should know it now, were not my ghastly life ending. I prayed her to +forgive me for the wrong I have done her; and she may, for she is gentle +and good--but when, when shall I be able to forgive myself?” + +The sharp pain in her voice jarred on Sir Norman's ear and heart; and, +to get rid of its dreary echo, he hurriedly asked: + +“You say you bear the same name. May I ask what name that is?” + +“It is one, Sir Norman Kingsley, before which your own ancient title +pales. We are Montmorencis, and in our veins runs the proudest blood in +France.” + +“Then Leoline is French and of noble birth?” said Sir Norman, with +a thrill of pleasure. “I loved her for herself alone, and would have +wedded her had she been the child of a beggar; but I rejoice to hear +this nevertheless. Her father, then, bore a title?” + +“Her father was the Marquis de Montmorenci, but Leoline's mother and +mine were not the same--had they been, the lives of all four might have +been very different; but it is too late to lament that now. My mother +had no gentle blood in her veins, as Leoline's had, for she was but a +fisherman's daughter, torn from her home, and married by force. Neither +did she love my father notwithstanding his youth, rank, and passionate +love for her, for she was betrothed to another bourgeois, like herself. +For his sake she refused even the title of marchioness, offered her in +the moment of youthful and ardent passion, and clung, with deathless +truth, to her fisher-lover. The blood of the Montmorencis is fierce +and hot, and brooks no opposition” (Sir Norman thought of Miranda, and +inwardly owned that that was a fact); “and the marquis, in his jealous +wrath, both hated and loved her at the same time, and vowed deadly +vengeance against her bourgeois lover. That vow he kept. The young +fisherman was found one morning at his lady-love's door without a head, +and the bleeding trunk told no tales. + +“Of course, for a while, she was distracted and so on; but when the +first shock of her grief was over, my father carried her off, and +forcibly made her his wife. Fierce hatred, I told you, was mingled with +his fierce love, and before the honeymoon was over it began to break +out. One night, in a fit of jealous passion, to which he was addicted, +he led her into a room she had never before been permitted to enter; +showed her a grinning human skull, and told her it was her lover's! +In his cruel exultation, he confessed all; how he had caused him to be +murdered; his head severed from the body; and brought here to punish +her, some day, for her obstinate refusal to love him. + +“Up to this time she had been quiet and passive, bearing her fate with +a sort of dumb resignation; but now a spirit of vengeance, fiercer and +more terrible than his own, began to kindle within her; and, kneeling +down before the ghastly thing, she breathed a wish--a prayer--to the +avenging Jehovah, so unutterably horrible, that even her husband had +to fly with curdling blood from the room. That dreadful prayer was +heard--that wish fulfilled in me; but long before I looked on the light +of day that frantic woman had repented of the awful deed she had done. +Repentance came too late the sin of the father was visited on the child, +and on the mother, too, for the moment her eyes fell upon me, she became +a raving maniac, and died before the first day of my life had ended. + +“Nurse and physician fled at the sight of me; but my father, though +thrilling with horror, bore the shock, and bowed to the retributive +justice of the angry Deity she had invoked. His whole life, his whole +nature, changed from that hour; and, kneeling beside my dead mother, as +he afterward told me, he vowed before high Heaven to cherish and love +me, even as though I had not been the ghastly creature I was. The +physician he bound by a terrible oath to silence; the nurse he forced +back, and, in spite of her disgust and abhorrence, compelled her to +nurse and care for me. The dead was buried out of sight; and we had +rooms in a distant part of the house, which no one ever entered but +my father and the nurse. Though set apart from my birth as something +accursed, I had the intellect and capacity of--yes, far greater +intellect and capacity than, most children; and, as years passed by, my +father, true to his vow, became himself my tutor and companion. He did +not love me--that was an utter impossibility; but time so blunts the +edge of all things, that even the nurse became reconciled to me, and my +father could scarcely do less than a stranger. So I was cared for, and +instructed, and educated; and, knowing not what a monstrosity I was, I +loved them both ardently, and lived on happily enough, in my splendid +prison, for my first ten years in this world. + +“Then came a change. My nurse died; and it became clear that I must quit +my solitary life, and see the sort of world I lived in. So my father, +seeing all this, sat down in the twilight one night beside me, and told +me the story of my own hideousness. I was but a child then, and it is +many and many years ago; but this gray summer morning, I feel what I +felt then, as vividly as I did at the time. I had not learned the great +lesson of life then--endurance, I have scarcely learned it yet, or I +should bear life's burden longer; but that first night's despair +has darkened my whole after-life. For weeks I would not listen to my +father's proposal, to hide what would send all the world from me in +loathing behind a mask; but I came to my senses at last, and from +that day to the present--more days than either you or I would care to +count--it has not been one hour altogether off my face.” + +“I was the wonder and talk of Paris, when I did appear; and most of the +surmises were wild and wide of the mark--some even going so far as to +say it was all owing to my wonderful unheard-of beauty that I was thus +mysteriously concealed from view. I had a soft voice, and a tolerable +shape; and upon this, I presume, they founded the affirmation. But my +father and I kept our own council, and let them say what they listed. +I had never been named, as other children are; but they called me +La Masque now. I had masters and professors without end, and studied +astronomy and astrology, and the mystic lore of the old Egyptians, and +became noted as a prodigy and a wonder, and a miracle of learning, far +and near. + +“The arts used to discover the mystery and make me unmask were +innumerable and almost incredible; but I baffled them all, and began, +after a time, rather to enjoy the sensation I created than otherwise. + +“There was one, in particular, possessed of even more devouring +curiosity than the rest, a certain young countess of miraculous beauty, +whom I need not describe, since you have her very image in Leoline. +The Marquis de Montmorenci, of a somewhat inflammable nature, loved her +almost as much as he had done my mother, and she accepted him, and they +were married. She may have loved him (I see no reason why she should +not), but still to this day I think it was more to discover the secret +of La Masque than from any other cause. I loved my beautiful new mother +too well to let her find it out; although from the day she entered our +house as a bride, until that on which she lay on her deathbed, her whole +aim, day and night, was its discovery. There seemed to be a fatality +about my father's wives; for the beautiful Honorine lived scarcely +longer than her predecessor, and she died, leaving three children--all +born at one time--you know them well, and one of them you love. To my +care she intrusted them on her deathbed, and she could have scarcely +intrusted them to worse; for, though I liked her, I most decidedly +disliked them. They were lovely children--their lovely mother's image; +and they were named Hubert, Leoline, and Honorine, or, as you knew her, +Miranda. Even my father did not seem to care for them much, not even +as much as he cared for me; and when he lay on his deathbed, one year +later, I was left, young as I was, their sole guardian, and trustee of +all his wealth. That wealth was not fairly divided--one-half being left +to me and the other half to be shared equally between them; but, in my +wicked ambition, I was not satisfied even with that. Some of my father's +fierce and cruel nature I inherited; and I resolved to be clear of these +three stumbling-blocks, and recompense myself for my other misfortunes +by every indulgence boundless riches could bestow. So, secretly, and in +the night, I left my home, with an old and trusty servant, known to you +as Prudence, and my unfortunate, little brother and sisters. Strange +to say, Prudence was attached to one of them, and to neither of the +rest--that one was Leoline, whom she resolved to keep and care for, and +neither she nor I minded what became of the other two.” + +“From Paris we went to Dijon, where we dropped Hubert into the turn at +the convent door, with his name attached, and left him where he would +be well taken care of, and no questions asked. With the other two we +started for Calais, en route for England; and there Prudence got rid +of Honorine in a singular manner. A packet was about starting for the +island of our destination, and she saw a strange-looking little man +carrying his luggage from the wharf into a boat. She had the infant in +her arms, having carried it out for the identical purpose of getting rid +of it; and, without more ado, she laid it down, unseen, among boxes and +bundles, and, like Hagar, stood afar off to see what became of it. That +ugly little man was the dwarf; and his amazement on finding it among +his goods and chattels you may imagine; but he kept it, notwithstanding, +though why, is best known to himself. A few weeks after that we, too, +came over, and Prudence took up her residence in a quiet village a long +way from London. Thus you see, Sir Norman, how it comes about that we +are so related, and the wrong I have done them all.” + +“You have, indeed!” said Sir Norman, gravely, having listened, much +shocked and displeased, at this open confession; “and to one of them it +is beyond our power to atone. Do you know the life of misery to which +she has been assigned?” + +“I know it all, and have repented for it in my own heart, in dust +and ashes! Even I--unlike all other earthly creatures as I am--have a +conscience, and it has given me no rest night or day since. From that +hour I have never lost sight of them; every sorrow they have undergone +has been known to me, and added to my own; and yet I could not, or would +not, undo what I had done. Leoline knows all now; and she will tell +Hubert, since destiny has brought them together; and whether they will +forgive me I know not. But yet they might; for they have long and happy +lives before them, and we can forgive everything to the dead.” + +“But you are not dead,” said Sir Norman; “and there is repentance and +pardon for all. Much as you have wronged them, they will forgive you; +and Heaven is not less merciful than they!” + +“They may; for I have striven to atone. In my house there are proofs and +papers that will put them in possession of all, and more than all, they +have lost. But life is a burden of torture I will bear no longer. The +death of him who died for me this night is the crowning tragedy of my +miserable life; and if my hour were not at hand, I should not have told +you this.” + +“But you have not told me the fearful cause of so much guilt and +suffering. What is behind that mask?” + +“Would you, too, see?” she asked, in a terrible voice, “and die?” + +“I have told you it is not in my nature to die easily, and it is +something far stronger than mere curiosity makes me ask.” + +“Be it so! The sky is growing red with day-dawn, and I shall never see +the sun rise more, for I am already plague-struck!” + +That sweetest of all voices ceased. The white hands removed the +mask, and the floating coils of hair, and revealed, to Sir Norman's +horror-struck gaze, the grisly face and head, and the hollow +eye-sockets, the grinning mouth, and fleshless cheeks of a skeleton! + +He saw it but for one fearful instant--the next, she had thrown up both +arms, and leaped headlong into the loathly plague-pit. He saw her for +a second or two, heaving and writhing in the putrid heap; and then the +strong man reeled and fell with his face on the ground, not feigning, +but sick unto death. Of all the dreadful things he had witnessed that +night, there was nothing so dreadful as this; of all the horror he had +felt before, there was none to equal what he felt now. In his momentary +delirium, it seemed to him she was reaching her arms of bone up to drag +him in, and that the skeleton-face was grinning at him on the edge of +the awful pit. And, covering his eyes with his hands, he sprang up, and +fled away. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. DAY-DAWN. + +All this time, the attendant, George, had been sitting, very much at his +ease, on horseback, looking after Sir Norman's charger and admiring +the beauties of sunrise. He had seen Sir Norman in conversation with +a strange female, and not much liking his near proximity to the +plague-pit, was rather impatient for it to come to an end; but when he +saw the tragic manner in which it did end, his consternation was beyond +all bounds. Sir Norman, in his horrified flight, would have fairly +passed him unnoticed, had not George arrested him by a loud shout. + +“I beg your pardon, Sir Norman,” he exclaimed, as that gentleman turned +his distracted face; “but, it seems to me, you are running away. Here is +your horse; and allow me to say, unless we hurry we will scarcely reach +the count by sunrise.” + +Sir Norman leaned against his horse, and shaded his eyes with his hand, +shuddering like one in an ague. + +“Why did that woman leap into the plague-pit?” inquired George, looking +at him curiously. “Was it not the sorceress, La Masque?” + +“Yes, yes. Do not ask me any questions now,” replied Sir Norman, in a +smothered voice, and with an impatient wave of his hand. + +“Whatever you please, sir,” said George, with the flippancy of his +class; “but still I must repeat, if you do not mount instantly, we will +be late; and my master, the count, is not one who brooks delay.” + +The young knight vaulted into the saddle without a word, and started +off at a break-neck pace into the city. George, almost unable to keep up +with him, followed instead of leading, rather skeptical in his own mind +whether he were not riding after a moon-struck lunatic. Once or twice +he shouted out a sharp-toned inquiry as to whether he knew where he was +going, and that they were taking the wrong way altogether; to all of +which Sir Norman deigned not the slightest reply, but rode more and more +recklessly on. There were but few people abroad at that hour; indeed, +for that matter, the streets of London, in the dismal summer of 1665, +were, comparatively speaking, always deserted; and the few now wending +their way homeward were tired physicians and plague-nurses from the +hospitals, and several hardy country folks, with more love of lucre +than fear of death bending their steps with produce to the market-place. +These people, sleepy and pallid in the gray haze of daylight, stared in +astonishment after the two furious riders; and windows were thrown open, +and heads thrust out to see what the unusual thunder of horses' hoofs at +that early hour meant. George followed dauntlessly on, determined to +do it or die in the attempt; and if he had ever heard of the Flying +Dutchman, would undoubtedly have come to the conclusion that he was +just then following his track on dry land. But, unlike the hapless +Vanderdecken, Sir Norman came to a halt at last, and that so suddenly +that his horse stood on his beam ends, and flourished his two fore limbs +in the atmosphere. It was before La Masque's door; and Sir Norman was +out of the saddle in a flash, and knocking like a postman with the +handle of his whip on the door. The thundering reveille rang through the +house, making it shake to its centre, and hurriedly brought to the door, +the anatomy who acted as guardian-angel of the establishment. + +“La Masque is not at home, and I cannot admit you,” was his sharp +salute. + +“Then I shall just take the trouble of admitting myself,” said Sir +Norman, shortly. + +And without further ceremony, he pushed aside the skeleton and entered. +But that outraged servitor sprang in his path, indignant and amazed. + +“No, sir; I cannot permit it. I do not know you; and it is against all +orders to admit strangers in La Masque's absence.” + +“Bah! you old simpleton!” remarked Sir Norman, losing his customary +respect for old age in his impatience, “I have La Masque's order for +what I am about to do. Get along with you directly, will you? Show me to +her private room, and no nonsense!” + +He tapped his sword-hilt significantly as he spoke, and that argument +proved irresistible. Grumbling, in low tones, the anatomy stalked +up-stairs; and the other followed, with very different feelings from +those with which he had mounted that staircase last. His guide paused in +the hall above, with his hand on the latch of a door. + +“This is her private room, is it!” demanded Sir Norman. + +“Yes.” + +“Just stand aside, then, and let me pass.” + +The room he entered was small, simply furnished, and seemed to answer +as bed-chamber and study, all in one. There was a writing-table under a +window, covered with books, and he glanced at them with some +curiosity. They were classics, Greek and Latin, and other little known +tongues--perhaps Sanscrit and Chaldaic, French belles lettres, novels, +and poetry, and a few rare old English books. There were no papers, +however, and those were what he was in search of; so spying a drawer in +the table, he pulled it hastily open. The sight that met his eyes fairly +dazzled him. It was full of jewels of incomparable beauty and value, +strewn as carelessly about as if they were valueless. The blaze of +gems at the midnight court seemed to him as nothing compared with the +Golconda, the Valley of Diamonds shooting forth sparks of rainbow-fire +before him now. Around one magnificent diamond necklace was entwined a +scrap of paper, on which was written: + +“The family jewels of the Montmorencis. To be given to my sisters when I +am dead.” + +That settled their destiny. All this blaze of diamonds, rubies, and +opals were Leoline's; and with the energetic rapidity characteristic +of our young friend that morning, he swept them out on the table, and +resumed his search for papers. No document was there to reward his +search, but the brief one twined round the necklace; and he was about +giving up in despair, when a small brass slide in one corner caught his +eye. Instantly he was at it, trying it every way, shoving it out and in, +and up and down, until at last it yielded to his touch, disclosing an +inner drawer, full of papers and parchments. One glance showed them to +be what he was in search of--proofs of Leoline and Hubert's identity, +with the will of the marquis, their father, and numerous other documents +relative to his wealth and estates. These precious manuscripts he rolled +together in a bundle, and placed carefully in his doublet, and then +seizing a beautifully-wrought brass casket, that stood beneath the +table, he swept the jewels in, secured it, and strapped it to his belt. +This brisk and important little affair being over, he arose to go, and +in turning, saw the skeleton porter standing in the door-way, looking on +in speechless dismay. + +“It's all right my ancient friend!” observed Sir Norman, gravely. “These +papers must go before the king, and these jewels to their proper owner.” + +“Their proper owner!” repeated the old man, shrilly; “that is La Masque. +Thief-robber-housebreaker--stop!” + +“My good old friend, you will do yourself a mischief if you bawl like +that. Undoubtedly these things were La Masque's, but they are so no +longer, since La Masque herself is among the things that were!” + +“You shall not go!” yelled the old man, trembling with rage and anger. +“Help! help! help!” + +“You noisy old idiot!” cried Sir Norman, losing all patience, “I will +throw you out of the window if you keep up such a clamor as this. I tell +you La Masque is dead!” + +At this ominous announcement, the ghastly porter fell back, and became, +if possible, a shade more ghastly than was his wont. + +“Dead and buried!” repeated Sir Norman, with gloomy sternness, “and +there will be somebody else coming to take possession shortly. How many +more servants are there here beside yourself?” + +“Only one, sir--my wife Joanna. In mercy's name, sir, do not turn us out +in the streets at this dreadful time!” + +“Not I! You and your wife Joanna may stagnate here till you blue-mold, +for me. But keep the door fast, my good old friend, and admit no +strangers, but those who can tell you La Masque is dead!” + +With which parting piece of advice Sir Norman left the house, and joined +George, who sat like an effigy before the door, in a state of great +mental wrath, and who accosted him rather suddenly the moment he made +his appearance. + +“I tell you what, Sir Norman Kingsley, if you have many more morning +calls to make, I shall beg leave to take my departure. As it is, I know +we are behind time, and his ma--the count, I mean, is not one who it +accustomed or inclined to be kept waiting.” + +“I am quite at your service now,” said Sir Norman, springing on +horseback; “so away with you, quick as you like.” + +George wanted no second order. Before the words were well out of his +companion's mouth, he was dashing away like a bolt from a bow, as +furiously as if on a steeple-chase, with Sir Norman close at his heels; +and they rode, flushed and breathless, with their steeds all a foaming, +into the court-yard of the royal palace at Whitehall, just as the early +rising sun was showing his florid and burning visage above the horizon. + +The court-yard, unlike the city streets, swarmed with busy life. Pages, +and attendants, and soldiers, moving hither and thither, or lounging +about, preparing for the morning's journey to Oxford. Among the rest +Sir Norman observed Hubert, lying very much at his ease wrapped in his +cloak, on the ground, and chatting languidly with a pert and pretty +attendant of the fair Mistress Stuart. He cut short his flirtation, +however, abruptly enough, and sprang to his feet as he saw Sir Norman, +while George immediately darted off and disappeared from the palace. + +“Am I late Hubert?” said his hurried questioner, as he drew the lad's +arm within his own, and led him off out of hearing. + +“I think not. The count,” said Hubert, with laughing emphasis, “has +not been visible since he entered yonder doorway, and there has been no +message that I have heard of. Doubtless, now that George has arrived, +the message will soon be here, for the royal procession starts within +half an hour.” + +“Are you sure there is no trick, Hubert? Even now he may be with +Leoline!” + +Hubert shrugged his shoulders. + +“He maybe; we must take our chance for that; but we have his royal word +to the contrary. Not that I have much faith in that!” said Hubert. + +“If he were king of the world instead of only England,” cried Sir +Norman, with flashing eyes, “he shall not have Leoline while I wear a +sword to defend her!” + +“Regicide!” exclaimed Hubert, holding up both hands in affected horror. +“Do my ears deceive me? Is this the loyal and chivalrous Sir Norman +Kingsley, ready to die for king and country--” + +“Stuff and nonsense!” interrupted Sir Norman, impatiently. “I tell you +any one, be he whom he may, that attempts to take Leoline from me, must +reach her over my dead body!” + +“Bravo! You ought to be a Frenchman, Sir Norman! And what if the lady +herself, finding her dazzling suitor drop his barnyard feathers, and +soar over her head in his own eagle plumes, may not give you your +dismissal, and usurp the place of pretty Madame Stuart.” + +“You cold-blooded young villain! if you insinuate such a thing again, +I'll throttle you! Leoline loves me, and me alone!” + +“Doubtless she thinks so; but she has yet to learn she has a king for a +suitor!” + +“Bah! You are nothing but a heartless cynic,” said Sir Norman, yet with +an anxious and irritated flush on his face, too: “What do you know of +love?” + +“More than you think, as pretty Mariette yonder could depose, if put +upon oath. But seriously, Sir Norman, I am afraid your case is of the +most desperate; royal rivals are dangerous things!” + +“Yet Charles has kind impulses, and has been known to do generous acts.” + +“Has he? You expect him, beyond doubt, to do precisely as he said; and +if Leoline, different from all the rest of her sex, prefers the knight +to the king, he will yield her unresistingly to you.” + +“I have nothing but his word for it!” said Sir Norman, in a distracted +tone, “and, at present, can do nothing but bide my time.” + +“I have been thinking of that, too! I promised, you know, when I left +her, last night, that we would return before day-dawn, and rescue her. +The unhappy little beauty will doubtless think I have fallen into the +tiger's jaws myself, and has half wept her bright eyes out by this +time!” + +“My poor Leoline! And O Hubert, if you only knew what she is to you!” + +“I do know! She told me she was my sister!” + +Sir Norman looked at him in amazement. + +“She told you, and you take it like this?” + +“Certainly, I take it like this. How would you have me take it? It is +nothing to go into hysterics about, after all!” + +“Of all the cold-blooded young reptiles I ever saw,” exclaimed Sir +Norman, with infinite disgust, “you are the worst! If you were told you +were to receive the crown of France to-morrow, you would probably open +your eyes a trifle, and take it as you would a new cap!” + +“Of course I would. I haven't lived in courts half my life to get up a +scene for a small matter! Besides, I had an idea from the first moment I +saw Leoline that she must be my sister, or something of that sort.” + +“And so you felt no emotion whatever on hearing it?” + +“I don't know as I properly understand what you mean by emotion,” said +Herbert, reflectively. “But ye-e-s, I did feel somewhat pleased--she is +so like me, and so uncommonly handsome!” + +“Humph! there's a reason! Did she tell you how she discovered it +herself?” + +“Let me see--no--I think not--she simply mentioned the fact.” + +“She did not tell you either, I suppose, that you had more sisters than +herself?” + +“More than herself! No. That would be a little too much of a good thing! +One sister is quite enough for any reasonable mortal.” + +“But there were two more, my good young friend!” + +“Is it possible?” said Hubert, in a tone that betrayed not the slightest +symptom of emotion. “Who are they?” + +Sir Norman paused one instant, combating a strong temptation to seize +the phlegmatic page by the collar, and give him such another shaking as +he would not get over for a week to come; but suddenly recollecting he +was Leoline's brother, and by the same token a marquis or thereabouts, +he merely paused to cast a withering look upon him, and walked on. + +“Well,” said Hubert, “I am waiting to be told.” + +“You may wait, then!” said Sir Norman, with a smothered growl; “and I +give you joy when I tell you. Such extra communicativeness to one so +stolid could do no good!” + +“But I am not stolid! I am in a perfect agony of anxiety,” said Hubert. + +“You young jackanapes!” said Sir Norman, half-laughing, half-incensed. +“It were a wise deed and a godly one to take you by the hind-leg and +nape of the neck, and pitch you over yonder wall; but for your master's +sake I will desist.” + +“Which of them?” inquired Hubert, with provoking gravity. + +“It would be more to the point if you asked me who the others were, I +think.” + +“So I have, and you merely abused me for it. But I think I know one +of them without being told. It is that other fac-simile of Leoline and +myself who died in the robber's ruin!” + +“Exactly. You and she, and Leoline, were triplets!” + +“And who is the other?” + +“Her name is La Masque. Have you ever heard it?” + +“La Masque! Nonsense!” exclaimed Hubert, with some energy in his voice +at last. “You but jest, Sir Norman Kingsley!” + +“No such thing! It is a positive fact! She told me the whole story +herself!” + +“And what is the whole story; and why did she not tell it to me instead +of you.” + +“She told it to Leoline, thinking, probably, she had the most sense; and +she told it to me, as Leoline's future husband. It is somewhat long to +relate, but it will help to beguile the time while we are waiting for +the royal summons.” + +And hereupon Sir Norman, without farther preface, launched into a rapid +resume of La Masque's story, feeling the cold chill with which he had +witnessed it creep over him as he narrated her fearful end. + +“It struck me,” concluded Sir Norman, “that it would be better to +procure any papers she might possess at once, lest, by accident, they +should fall into other hands; so I rode there directly, and, in spite +of the cantankerous old porter, searched diligently, until I found them. +Here they are,” said Sir Norman, drawing forth the roll. + +“And what do you intend doing with them?” inquired Hubert, glancing at +the papers with an unmoved countenance. + +“Show them to the king, and, though his mediation with Louis, obtain for +you the restoration of your rights.” + +“And do you think his majesty will give himself so much trouble for the +Earl of Rochester's page?” + +“I think he will take the trouble to see justice done, or at least he +ought to. If he declines, we will take the matter in our own hands, my +Hubert; and you and I will seek Louis ourselves. Please God, the Earl of +Rochester's page will yet wear the coronet of the De Montmorencis!” + +“And the sister of a marquis will be no unworthy mate even for a +Kingsley,” said Hubert. “Has La Masque left nothing for her?” + +“Do you see this casket?” tapping the one of cared brass dangling from +his belt; “well, it is full of jewels worth a king's ransom. I found +them in a drawer of La Masque's house, with directions that they were to +be given to her sisters at her death. Miranda being dead, I presume they +are all Leoline's now.” + +“This is a queer business altogether!” said Hubert, musingly; “and I +am greatly mistaken if King Louis will not regard it as a very pretty +little work of fiction.” + +“But I have proofs, lad! The authenticity of these papers cannot be +doubted.” + +“With all my heart. I have no objections to be made a marquis of, and go +back to la belle France, out of this land of plague and fog. Won't some +of my friends here be astonished when they hear it, particularly the +Earl of Rochester, when he finds out that he has had a marquis for a +page? Ah, here comes George, and bearing a summons from Count L'Estrange +at last.” + +George approached, and intimated that Sir Norman was to follow him to +the presence of his master. + +“Au revoir, then,” said Hubert. “You will find me here when you come +back.” + +Sir Norman, with a slight tremor of the nerves at what was to come, +followed the king's page through halls and anterooms, full of loiterers, +courtiers, and their attendants. Once a hand was laid on his shoulder, a +laughing voice met his ear, and the Earl of Rochester stood beside him! + +“Good-morning, Sir Norman; you are abroad betimes. How have you left +your friend, the Count L'Estrange?” + +“Your lordship has probably seen him since I have, and should be able to +answer that question best.” + +“And how does his suit progress with the pretty Leoline?” went on +the gay earl. “In faith, Kingsley, I never saw such a charming little +beauty; and I shall do combat with you yet--with both the count and +yourself, and outwit the pair of you!” + +“Permit me to differ from your lordship. Leoline would not touch you +with a pair of tongs!” + +“Ah! she has better taste than you give her credit for; but if I should +fail, I know what to do to console myself.” + +“May I ask what?” + +“Yes! there is Hubert, as like her an two peas in a pod. I shall dress +him up in lace and silks, and gewgaws, and have a Leoline of my own +already made its order.” + +“Permit me to doubt that, too! Hubert is as much lost to you as +Leoline!” + +Leaving the volatile earl to put what construction pleased him best on +this last sententious remark, he resumed his march after George, and +was ushered, at last, into an ante-room near the audience-chamber. +Count L'Estrange, still attired as Count L'Estrange, stood near a window +overlooking the court-yard, and as the page salaamed and withdrew, he +turned round, and greeted Sir Norman with his suavest air. + +“The appointed hour is passed, Sir Norman Kingsley, but that is partly +your own fault. Your guide hither tells me that you stopped for some +time at the house of a fortune-teller, known as La Masque. Why was +this!” + +“I was forced to stop on most important business,” answered the knight, +still resolved to treat him as the count, until it should please him +to doff his incognito, “of which you shall hear anon. Just now, our +business is with Leoline.” + +“True! And as in a short time I start with yonder cavalcade, there +is but little time to lose. Apropos, Kingsley, who is that mysterious +woman, La Masque?” + +“She is, or was (for she is dead now) a French lady, of noble birth, and +the sister of Leoline!” + +“Her sister! And have you discovered Leoline's history?” + +“I have.” + +“And her name!” + +“And her name. She is Leoline De Montmorenci! And with the proudest +blood of France in her veins, living obscure and unknown--a stranger in +a strange land since childhood; but, with God's grace and your help, I +hope to see her restored to all she has lost, before long.” + +“You know me, then?” said his companion, half-smiling. + +“Yes, your majesty,” answered Sir Norman, bowing low before the king. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. FINIS + +As the last glimpse of moonlight and of Hubert's bright face vanished, +Leoline took to pacing up and down the room in a most conflicting and +excited state of mind. So many things had happened during the past +night; so rapid and unprecedented had been the course of events; so +changed had her whole life become within the last twelve hours, that +when she came to think it all over, it fairly made her giddy. Dressing +for her bridal; the terrible announcement of Prudence; the death-like +swoon; the awakening at the plague-pit; the maniac flight through the +streets; the cold plunge in the river; her rescue; her interview with +Sir Norman, and her promise; the visit of La Masque; the appearance of +the count; her abduction; her journey here; the coming of Hubert, and +their suddenly-discovered relationship. It was enough to stun any one; +and the end was not yet. Would Hubert effect his escape? Would they be +able to free her? What place was this, and who was Count L'Estrange? It +was a great deal easier to propound this catechism to herself than +to find answers to her own questions; and so she walked up and down, +worrying her pretty little head with all sorts of anxieties, until it +was a perfect miracle that softening of the brain did not ensue. + +Her feet gave out sooner than her brain, though; and she got so tired +before long, that she dropped into a seat, with a long-drawn, anxious +sigh; and, worn out with fatigue and watching, she, at last, fell +asleep. + +And sleeping, she dreamed. It seemed to her that the count and Sir +Norman were before her, in her chamber in the old house on London +Bridge, tossing her heart between them like a sort of shuttlecock. +By-and-by, with two things like two drumsticks, they began hammering +away at the poor, little, fluttering heart, as if it were an anvil and +they were a pair of blacksmiths, while the loud knocks upon it resounded +through the room. For a time, she was so bewildered that she could not +comprehend what it meant; but, at last, she became conscious that some +one was rapping at the door. Pressing one hand over her startled heart, +she called “Come in!” and the door opened and George entered. + +“Count L'Estrange commands me to inform you, fair lady, that he will +do himself the pleasure of visiting you immediately, with Sir Norman +Kingsley, if you are prepared to receive them.” + +“With Sir Norman Kingsley!” repeated Leoline, faintly. “I-I am afraid I +do not quite understand.” + +“Then you will not be much longer in that deplorable state,” said +George, backing out, “for here they are.” + +“Pardon this intrusion, fairest Leoline,” began the count, “but Sir +Norman and I are about to start on a journey, and before we go, there is +a little difference of opinion between us that you are to settle.” + +Leoline looked first at one, and then at the other, utterly bewildered. + +“What is it?” she asked. + +“A simple matter enough. Last evening, if you recollect, you were my +promised bride.” + +“It was against my will,” said Leoline, boldly, though her voice shook, +“You and Prudence made me.” + +“Nay, Leoline, you wrong me. I, at least, need no compulsion.” + +“You know better. You haunted me continually; you gave me no peace at +all; and I would just have married you to get rid of you.” + +“And you never loved me?” + +“I never did.” + +“A frank confession! Did you, then, love any one else?” + +The dark eyes fell, and the roseate glow again tinged the pearly face. + +“Mute!” said the count, with an almost imperceptible smile. “Look up, +Leoline, and speak.” + +But Leoline would do neither. With all her momentary daring gone, she +stood startled as a wild gazelle. + +“Shall I answer for her, Sir Count?” exclaimed Sir Norman, his own cheek +dashed. “Leoline! Leoline! you love me!” + +Leoline was silent. + +“You are to decide between us, Leoline. Though the count forcibly +brought you here, he has been generous enough to grant this. Say, then, +which of as you love best.” + +“I do not love him at all,” said Leoline, with a little disdain, “and he +knows it.” + +“Then it is I!” said Sir Norman, him whole face beaming with delight. + +“It is you!” + +Leoline held out both hands to the loved one, and nestled close to his +side, like a child would to its protector. + +“Fairly rejected!” said the count, with a pacing shade of mortification +on his brow; “and, my word being pledged, I most submit. But, beautiful +Leoline, you have yet to learn whom you have discarded.” + +Clinging to her lover's arm, the girl grew white with undefined +apprehension. Leisurely, the count removed false wig, false eyebrows, +false beard; and a face well known to Leoline, from pictures and +description, turned full upon her. + +“Sire!” she cried, in terror, calling on her knees with clasped hands. + +“Nay; rise, fair Leoline,” said the king, holding out his hand to assist +her. “It is my place to kneel to one so lovely instead of having her +kneel to me. Think again. Will you reject the king as you did the +count?” + +“Pardon, your majesty!”, said Leoline, scarcely daring to look up; “but +I must!” + +“So be it! You are a perfect miracle of troth and constancy, and I think +I can afford to be generous for once. In fifteen minutes, we start for +Oxford, and you must accompany us as Lady Kingsley. A tiring woman will +wait upon you to robe you for your bridal. We will leave you now, and +let me enjoin expedition.” + +And while she still stood too much astonished by the sudden proposal to +answer, both were gone, and in their place stood a smiling lady's maid, +with a cloud of gossamer white in her arms. + +“Are those for me?” inquired Leoline, looking at them, and trying to +comprehend that it was all real. + +“They are for you--sent by Mistress Stuart, herself. Please sit down, +and all will be ready in a trice.” + +And in a trice all was ready. The shining, jetty curls were smoothed, +and fell in a glossy shower, trained with jewels--the pearls Leoline +herself still wore. The rose satin was discarded for another of bridal +white, perfect of fit, and splendid of feature. A great gossamer veil +like a cloud of silver mist over all, from head to foot; and Leoline was +shown herself in a mirror, and in the sudden transformation, could +have exclaimed, with the unfortunate lady in Mother Goose, shorn of her +tresses when in balmy slumber: “As sure as I'm a little woman, this is +none of it!” But she it was, nevertheless, who stood listening like one +in a trance, to the enthusiastic praises of her waiting-maid. + +Again there was a tap at the door. This time the attendant opened +it, and George reappeared. Even he stood for a moment looking at the +silver-shining vision, and so lost in admiration, that he almost forgot +his message. But when Leoline turned the light of her beautiful eyes +inquiringly upon him, he managed to remember it, and announced that he +had been sent by the king to usher her to the royal presence. + +With a feet-throbbing heart, flushed cheeks, and brilliant eyes, the +dazzling bride followed him, unconscious that she had never looked so +incomparably before in her life. It was but a few hours since she had +dressed for another bridal; and what wonderful things had occurred since +then--her whole destiny had changed in a night. Not quite sure yet but +that she was still dreaming, she followed on--saw George throw open the +great doors of the audience-chamber, and found herself suddenly in +what seemed to her a vast concourse of people. At the upper end of the +apartment was a brilliant group of ladies, with the king's beautiful +favorite in their midst, gossiping with knots of gentlemen. The king +himself stood in the recess of a window, with his brother, the Duke of +York, the Earl of Rochester, and Sir Norman Kingsley, and was laughing +and relating animatedly to the two peers the whole story. Leoline +noticed this, and noticed, too, that all wore traveling dresses--most of +the ladies, indeed, being attired in riding-habits. + +The king himself advanced to her rescue, and drawing her arm within +his, he led her up and presented her to the fair Mistress Stuart, who +received her with smiling graciousness though Leoline, all unused +to court ways, and aware of the lovely lady's questionable position, +returned it almost with cold hauteur. Charles being in an unusually +gracious mood, only smiled as he noticed it, and introduced her next to +his brother of York, and her former short acquaintance, Rochester. + +“There's no need, I presume, to make you acquainted with this other +gentleman,” said Charles, with a laughing glance at Sir Norman. +“Kingsley, stand forward and receive your bride. My Lord of Canterbury, +we await your good offices.” + +The bland bishop, in surplice and stole, and book in hand, stepped from +a distant group, and advanced. Sir Norman, with a flush on his cheek, +and an exultant light in his eyes, took the hand of his beautiful bride +who stood lovely, and blushing, and downcast, the envy and admiration of +all. And + + + “Before the bishop now they stand, + The bridegroom and the bride; + And who shall paint what lovers feel + In this, their hour of pride?” + +Who indeed? Like many other pleasant things is this world, it requires +to be felt to be appreciated; and, for that reason, it is a subject on +which the unworthy chronicler is altogether incompetent to speak. The +first words of the ceremony dropped from the prelate's urbane lips, and +Sir Norman's heart danced a tarantella within him. “Wilt thou?” inquired +the bishop, blandly, and slipped a plain gold ring on one pretty finger +of Leoline's hand and all heard the old, old formula: “What God hath +joined together, let no man put asunder!” And the whole mystic rite was +over. + +Leoline gave one earnest glance at the ring on her finger. Long ago, +slaves wore rings as the sign of their bondage--is it for the same +reason married women wear them now? While she yet looked half-doubtfully +at it, she was surrounded, congratulated, and stunned with a +sadden clamor of voices; and then, through it all, she heard the +well-remembered voice of Count L'Estrange, saying: + +“My lords and ladies, time is on the wing, and the sun is already half +an hour high! Off with you all to the courtyard, and mount, while Lady +Kingsley changes her wedding-gear for robes more befitting travel, and +joins us there.” + +With a low obeisance to the king, the lovely bride hastened away after +one of the favorite's attendants, to do as he directed, and don a +riding-suit. In ten minutes after, when the royal cavalcade started, she +turned from the pest-stricken city, too and fairest, where all was fair, +by Sir Norman's side rode Leoline. + +Sitting one winter night by a glorious winter fire, while the snow and +hail lashed the windows, and the wind without roared like Bottom, the +weaver, a pleasant voice whispered the foregoing tale. Here, as it +paused abruptly, and seemed to have done with the whole thing, I +naturally began to ask questions. What happened the dwarf and his +companions? What became of Hubert? Did Sir Norman and Lady Kingsley go +to Devonshire, and did either of them die of the plague? I felt, myself, +when I said it, that the last suggestion was beneath contempt, and so a +withering look from the face opposite proved; but the voice was obliging +enough to answer the rest of my queries. The dwarf and his cronies being +put into his majesty's jail of Newgate, where the plague was raging +fearfully, they all died in a week, and so managed to cheat the +executioner. Hubert went to France, and laid his claims before the royal +Louis, who, not being able to do otherwise, was graciously pleased to +acknowledge them; and Hubert became the Marquis de Montmorenci, and in +the fullness of time took unto himself a wife, even of the daughters of +the land, and lived happy for ever after. + +And Sir Norman and Lady Kingsley did go to the old manor in Devonshire, +where--with tradition and my informant--there is to be seen to this day, +an old family-picture, painted some twelve years after, representing +the knight and his lady sitting serenely in their “ain ingle nook” + with their family around them. Sir Norman,--a little portlier, a little +graver, in the serious dignity of pater familias; and Leoline, with the +dark, beautiful eyes, the falling, shining hair, the sweet smiling lips, +and lovely, placid face of old. Between them, on three hassocks, sit +three little boys; while the fourth, and youngest, a miniature little +Sir Norman, leans against his mother's shoulder, and looks thoughtfully +in her sweet, calm face. Of the fate of those four, the same ancient +lore affirms: “That the eldest afterward bore the title of Earl of +Kingsley; that the second became a lord high admiral, or chancellor, or +something equally highfalutin; and that the third became an archbishop. +But the highest honor of all was reserved for the fourth, and youngest,” + continued the narrating voice, “who, after many days, sailed for +America, and, in the course of time, became President of the United +States.” + +Determined to be fully satisfied on this point, at least, the author +invested all her spare change in a catalogue of all the said Presidents, +from George Washington to Chester A. Arthur, and, after a diligent and +absorbing perusal of that piece of literature, could find no such name +as Kingsley whatever; and has been forced to come to the conclusion that +he most have applied to Congress to change his name on arriving in the +New World, or else that her informant was laboring reader a falsehood +when she told her so. As for the rest, + + + “I know not how the truth may be; + I say it as 'twas said to me.” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Midnight Queen, by May Agnes +Fleming + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN *** + +***** This file should be named 2950-0-h.htm or 2950-0-h.zip ***** This and +all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/5/2950/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission +and without paying copyright royalties. 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