 Chapter 6 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 lude 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, in 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 a disagreeable 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 oculus 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 Armistead's thoughts as he leaned against the doorway and folded his arms across his chest to await the shining of his day star. In fact, I'm 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 his 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 Armistead 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 do to peck at. Armistead's flame was longer lived than Sir Norman's. He had been in love a whole month, and had it badly, and was now up 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 extent in his time, but the spirit of it certainly was, and Armistead determined to prove it. He wanted to seal a mask, 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 Tadmar in Egypt, and he wisely resolved to spare himself and his Spanish leather boots the trial of a one-handed game of hide-and-go-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 juggle 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 a 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 sledgehammer. Would one pulse in her heart stir ever so faintly at the 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. 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 La 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. Madame, I was so frightened. Bah! You are nothing but a coward. Come into this doorway and tell me all about it. Armistand 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, and 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 still there. 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. Oh, 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 saw 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. Then she clasped both hands with a wild cry. Oh, 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 happened 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, Madame. 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 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 red-full burning paint in her chest. Then, Madame, the horrid truth struck me. I tore down her dress, and there, sure enough, was that awful mark of the distemper. You have the plague, I shrieked, and then I fled downstairs and out of the house, like one crazy. Oh, 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-to-writing laugh. So the Count does not know it, Prudence. Poor man, he will be in despair when he finds 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, slowing her voice to a confidential stage whisper. She never seemed fond of him at all, and wouldn't have married, I think, if she could have helped it. Could have helped it? Would 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, holy. 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 treating, and he was handsome, and had such ways with him that no woman could resist. Much less one's a little used to gentlemen as Leolene, and so, Madame La 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 been lost? Of course she has, you old simpleton. How could she help it? And she's not dead, with no one to look after her, said La Masque, with something like a half-laugh. She was carried to the plate pit in her bridal robes, jewels, and lace, and, when about to be thrown in, was discovered, like Moses in the Bullrushes, to be all alive. Well, whispered Prudence breathlessly. Well, almost 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 Leolene 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 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 Leyland? 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 shuttered and covered her face with her hands. Oh my poor darling, so good and so beautiful. Heaven might surely have spared her. Are you going to do nothing further about it? What can I do? I have searched for her and have not found her. What else remains? Madame, you know everything. Surely, surely you know where my poor little nursing 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 minute looking after her, 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 Armistan. With what feelings that young person had listened to the neat and appropriate dialogue, I have just had the pleasure of immortalizing, maybe, to use a phrase you may have heard before once or twice, better imagined than described. He knew very well who Leilin 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 lady love had so coolly dismissed her company. And then rousing himself just in time, he had come forward and accosted her. La Masque turned around, regarded him in silence for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice had an accent of mingled surprise and displeasure. You, Mr. Armistan, how many more times am I to have the pleasure of seeing you again tonight? 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. Armistan. Madame, began Armistan, 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 Leolin, 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. Armistan? I think I told you I wanted to go in. What may you want of me at this dismal hour? Oh, Madame, need you ask, does not your heart tell you? I am not aware that it does. And to tell you the truth, Mr. Armistan, 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? Armistan groaned at an oath between his teeth, and the mask raised one jeweled, snowy, taper finger reprovingly. Don't, Mr. Armistan, it's not a 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. Armistan, it is not. That is, supposing you really love me, which you don't. Madame, oh, you needn't flash that look indignant. It is quite true. Don't be absurd, Mr. Armistan. How is it possible for you to love one you have never seen? I have seen you. Do you think I'm 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. Armistan, 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, oh 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. Armistan, 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, released my hand, and let me go. But damn 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. Armiston, and in my heart, I have vowed of vow to plunge headlong into the most lonesome 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 everything earthly. Madame, I implore you, hear me. Mr. Armiston, 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 lightnings chained than tampered with what thou art about to do. I will 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. End of Chapter 6. Chapter 7 of The Midnight Queen. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ninka. The Midnight Queen by Mae Agnes Fleming. Chapter 7, The Earl's Barge. Shocks of joy, they tell me, sell them kill. Of my own knowledge I cannot say, for I have had precious little experience of such shocks in my lifetime, have a nose. 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 self might have envied, a voice sweeter than the singing fountain of Arabia, hands and feet, the most perfectly beautiful the sun ever shown on, it was simply a moral and physical impossibility that they could be joined by a repulsive face. There was a remote possibility that it was a little less exquisite than those refreshing items, and that her morbid fancy made her imagine it homely, compared with them. But he knew he never would share enough opinion. It was the reasoning of love, rather, than logic. For when love glides smiling in that door, reason stalks gravely, not to say, subtly, out of the window, and, standing far off, eyes disdainfully the diados and antics of her late tenement. There was very little reason, therefore, in Ormiston's heart and head, but a great deal of something sweeter, joy. Joyed at thrill and vibrated through every nerve within him, leading against a portal in an absurd delirium of delight for ticks but a trifle to jerk those lovers from the slimy depths of the slough of despond to the topmost peak of the mountain of ecstasy, he uncovered his head that the midnight air might cool its feverish throbbing. But the midnight air was as hot as his heart, and, almost suffocated by the sultry closeness, he was about to start for a punch in the river when the sound of coming footsteps and voices arrested him. He had met with so many odd adventures tonight that he stopped now to see what's 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 recognized 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 abstractorously 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 set the Earl with a care that glanced around. I protest, you bird. This night seems endless. How long has 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, set the page with a French rug. I have heard Lady's prediction that London is to be purified by fire, like a second Sodom. Perhaps it is to be verified tonight. Not unlikely, the doer 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 girl with barge lay mauled and the boatman waiting. As they passed from sight, almost then 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 must have been one of those strange and accountable likenesses we sometimes see among perfect strangers, but the resemblance in this case 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 all the ruin. Suddenly he was aroused. A moment before, the silence had been almost oppressive, but now in 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 her foremost into the 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's ill with the plague, shouted a crowd, praying, 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? They cried two or three watchmen, brandishing their hullbirds 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 outstapped us and is now at the bottom of the Thames. Almost unweighted to hear no more, but rushed precipitately down to the water's edge. The alarm had now reached the boats on the river and many eyes within them were turned in direction when she had gone down. Soon she reappeared on a dark surface, something whiter than snow, whiter than death, shining like silver, shone a glittering dress and marble face of the bride. A small battalier lay close to where Ormiston stood. In two seconds he had sprang in, shoved it off and was roaming vigorously toward that snow-wreath in the Inky River. But he was foretold, two hands wide and jewelled as a ron, reached every edge of a gilded barge and, with the help of the boatman, lifted her in. Before she could be properly established on the cushioned seats, the battal 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 in 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 it 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 mitigated wonder. To whom, asked Ormiston, who had very little need to inquire, to you, but younger, why, don't you see it yourself? She might be his twin sister. She might be, but that 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 she spoke, and the boatman, glad enough to get rid of one sick of the plague, helped her into the bateau. The lady was not insensible as might be supposed after a 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 in dripping about her, the long dark hair hung in saturated masses over her neck and arms, and contrasted vividly with her face, Ormiston thought at once, the whitest, most beautiful, and most stone-like 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 at 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 hounds 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 arm full 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 wavy burden if necessary required. Thank you, sir, said the faint voice, faintly, but I would rather walk. Well, you're 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, where really. Only I am so tired. Oh, I wish I were home. Ormiston half led, half lifted her upstairs. You are almost there, dear lady. See, it is close at hand. She half lifted her languid eyes, but did not speak. Leading panting on his arm, he drew her gently on until they reached her door. It was still in fastened. Prudence had kept her word and not gone near it, and he opened it and helped her in. Where now, he asked. Upstairs, 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 define them. Ormiston crowed the room. Fortunately, he knew the latitude of the place, and moving his hand with a gingerly precaution along the mantel shelf, lest he should upset any of the gem-cracks thereon. Soon obtained the articles named, and the chocolate. The lady was leaning warily against a door-post, but now she came forward and dropped exhausted into the downed pillows of a lounge. I can do anything I can do for you, madam, began Ormiston, with a solicitous anire 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. Fill the 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 pulled down of 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 only could say. Thank God, she exclaimed, fervently clasping her hands, but oh, how could 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 all the father-tems. 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 sat 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 don't mean that. I mean, oh, the slutsher. I am not one of those I saw at a 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 rosy glow rose softly over her cheek 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 once, allow me to add, you took your departure rather unceremoniously. Did I? She said, in a rather sort of way. It is all like a dream to me. I remember prudence screaming and telling me I had to plague and your natural ball horror that filled me when I heard it. And 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 without awakening. And between it and the anguish of the plague soul, I think I fainted again, Ormiston nodded sarcastically, and when I 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 streets 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 through all my delirium that they would bring me to the past house if they caught me and drowning seemed to be 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. Madam, 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've you it in a very different light, she said, with a half smile. Lady, your life is invaluable, but as you are 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 post house, you know. O rest of that, all your gratitude is due to Sir Norman. He managed to hold a fair and what is more, fell, but I will leave that for himself to disclose. Meantime, may I ask the name of the lady I've been so fortunate as to serve? Undoubtedly, sir. My name is Leolene. Leolene is only half a name. Then I am so unfortunate as 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 anyone 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, for a month to come. She is afraid of to plague. Is she, said Leolene, 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 Musque. That singular being, I don't know her, but I've seen her often. Why was prudence talking of me to her, I wonder. That I do not know, but talking of you that she was and she said she was coming back here no more. Perhaps you will be afraid to stay her alone? Oh no, I'm used to being alone, she said with a little sigh. But where, I 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 her 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 disparity. You have taught 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 labour. 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 illuminating 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 unsustainable, I hope you will not object to it, for if you do he will certainly not survive in the morning. She gaily laughed, but in 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 Leolene, tapping one little foot on the floor, and looking him down at it with hot cheeks and humid eyes, answered not a word. End of chapter seven. Chapter eight of The Midnight Queen. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linda Ferguson. The Midnight Queen, by May Agnes Fleming. Chapter eight, The Midnight Queen. When Sir Norman Kingsley entered the ancient ruin, his head was full of Leolene, when he knelt down to look through the aperture in the flag-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, Leolene among the rest, and nothing remained but a profound and absorbing feeling of intense 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. So 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 noonday, 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 the richest rugs and mats, and squares of velvet of as many colours as Joseph's coat. The walls were hung with splendid tapestry, gorgeous in silk and colouring, representing the wars of Troy, the exploits of Cordeleon 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 colour, cut in antique points and heavily hung with gold fringe, was above the seat of honour. 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, where a row of great carved gilded and cushioned chairs, brilliant too with crimson and gold, and each for everyday Christians are thrown in itself. Between the blaze of illumination, the flashing of gilding and gold, the tropical flush of crimson velvet, the rainbow dais on floors 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 Abu Hassan, when he awoke in the palace of the facetious Caleb for Baghdad, he had no notion of believing his own eyes and ears, and quietly concluded it was all an optical illusion, as Ghostler 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. So Norman had mingled in many a brilliant scene at Whitehall, where the gorgeous Court of Charles shone in all its blender 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 blondes to brightest brunettes had never met and mingled together before. Each lovely face was unmasked, but so Norman's dazzled eyes in veins 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 signifyeth in silken hose of every color under the sun, spangled and embroidered slippers radiant with diamond buckles, doblets 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 her 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 ballroom apollos of the present day. Still no one ascended the golden and crimson throne, though many of the ladies and gentlemen's 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 intently 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 all together 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 spying cognomen of the Duke of Northumberland, another was the Earl of Leicester, another the Duke at Devonshire, another the Earl of Clarendon, another the Duke of Buckingham, and so on. Add in for an item, 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 Woolsey, Sir Thomas Moore, the Earl of Bothwell, King Henry Darnley, Sir Walter Rawley, 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 baronettes 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, machinesses, 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 way, which people of such distinguished rank, I am told, seldom do. All went merry as a marriage-bell, and sweetly over the gauge, Ingle 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 and a grand court livery flourished a mighty grand wand, and shouted in a stentorian voice, Back, back, you legers, and make way for Her Majesty Queen Miranda! Instantly the unseen band thundered forth the national anthem. The splendid throng fell back on either side in profound assilence and expectation. The grand usher mysteriously disappeared, and in his place there stalked Ford a score of soldiers, with clanking swords and fierce mustaches, in the gorgeous uniform of the king's bodyguard. 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 rogue 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, for a lord high chancellor at the very least. The somewhat gaudy-looking gentleman who stepped after the pious prelate and peer wore the stars and garters of foreign courts, and were evidently ambassadors extraordinary to that of her midnight majesty. After them came a snowy flock of fair young girls, angels all but the wings, slender as silphs and robed in purest white. Each bore on her arm a basket of flowers, roses and rose buds of every tint, from snowy white to dark as 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 of rose from the whole assemblage, Long live Queen Miranda! Ambowing 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 Leiline. 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 arm snowy and perfect to blaze 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 cauldron, and that face was the face of Leiline and the Earl's page. Could he be dreaming? Was he sane or mad? 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, scepter 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 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 portion to his width and was decorated with a wig of long, flowing flux and hair that scarcely harmonized with the profusion of the article whiskers. In Hugh, 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 ambassadors took their stands 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 to the archbishop. Come forward and read us the role 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 he recollected it was the identical face of the high woman who had beaten an inglorious retreat from him and countless trench that very night. This Ducat robber drew forth a role of partiment and began reading in lacrimose tones a select litany of defunct gentlemen with highfalutinous 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 Lord's 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 doltfully, "'and it's not an hour since they quitted this veil of tears. They and myself rode forth at nightfall, according to custom, to lay your Majesty's tax on all travellers, 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 travellers 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 Gaul and Crown not long ago,' said the dwarf. "'A forward young Poppenday, and mighty inquisitive about this, our royal palace. "'I promised him, if he came here, a warm reception. I promise I will have the greatest pleasure in fulfilling.' "'You may stand aside, my Lord Duke,' said the Queen, with the 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 san foie, and were then permitted to kiss the hand of the Queen, a privilege worth any amount of swearing, and retire. "'Let anyone 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 deepest approval of Sir Norman, of accounts of daring highway robberies, one of them perpetrated on the King himself, which distinguished personage the duplicate of Lailene, styled our brother Charles, and of the summons thereby attained.' The treasurer of state was then ordered to show himself, in given 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 footsteps sounded on the flagged floor beside him, and someone suddenly grasped his shoulder with no gentle hand. End of the Midnight Queen. Recording by Linda Ferguson. Chapter 9 of the Midnight Queen. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Midnight Queen by May Agnes Fleming. Chapter 9. Layling. In one instance Sir Norman was on his feet and his hand on his sword. In the Tariq 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 there in particular, "'but a lower range of vaults. "'Do you intend telling me what has brought you here?' "'Certainly, the very fleet of tourists "'I could find in the city.' "'Pasha, you don't say,' 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, repacing the flag. "'It's nothing, I tell you, "'but a number of will of the wisps having a ball. "'Finally, and for 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. "'Cunt found 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 moldering and crumbling doorway "'shown by a square of lighter darkness "'and exchanged the damp, chill atmosphere of the vaults "'for this stagnant sultry open air. "'Sir Norman, with the notion in his head "'that his dwarfish highness "'might have placed sentinels around his royal residence, "'endevered 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, "'Armistan, for following him? "'I don't wish to talk here. "'There is no telling who may be listening. "'Come along.' "'Armistan glanced back at the gloomy rain "'looming up like a black specter in the blackness. "'Well, they must have a strong fancy "'for eavesdropping, I must say. "'Who would go to that haunted heap to listen? "'What have you seen there? "'And where have you left your horse?' "'I told to be forced, said Sir Norman, rather impatiently. "'I have seen nothing, at least nothing you would care about, "'and my horse is waiting for 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 this man crazy? "'I shall do no such thing. "'Let me tell you, tonight. "'Oh, just as you please, said Armistan, "'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 Armistan testily, "'and I will tell you again. "'She's sent me in search of you, "'and if you don't choose to come, "'that's your 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 Armistan's doublet and shook him as if he would have shaken the name out of a jerk. "'I tell you what it is, Armistan, "'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 she is, "'I'll throttle you where you stand, "'and so give you warning. "'Half indignant and holy laughing, "'Armistan 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 Leolene. "'It has always been one of the unscrupulatable 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 standstill "'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. "'Leolene,' he faintly gaffed. "'Just stop a moment, Armistan, "'and say that again, will you? "'No,' said Armistan, 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, Nan, 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 Armistan 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 house 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 someone they called Leolene, "'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 Leolene'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 "'as 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 Leolene. "'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 Count Le Trange "'was once more under the swords of the three robbers, "'and waiting for him to ride to the rescue. "'That was all. "'The Mask urged Prudence to go back, continued Armistan. "'But Prudence respectfully declined "'and went her way bemoaning the fate of her darling. "'When she was gone, I stepped up to Madame Mask, "'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, asked Sir Norman. "'See me, I believe you. "'She has more eyes than ever Argus had "'and each one is as sharp as a cambrick needle. "'Of course, I apologized and so on, "'and she forgave me handsomely. "'And then we fell into 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 Mask and Kingsley. "'She has consented to do it, "'and she says that if, after seeing her face, "'if I still love her, she will be my wife. "'Is it possible? "'My dear Armiston, 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 we're 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?' "'Armiston,' said Norman, catching him by the shoulder "'with a very excited face, is this true? "'True is 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 his same wailing, and at the same moment, "'he was watching her decked out in a royal state "'in the rain, Armiston, had probably been assisting her "'from her cold bath in the River Thames. "'Astonishment and consternation are words "'all together to feeble, to express his state of mind. "'But one idea remained clear and bright "'amid all his mental chaos, and that was "'that the leolin he had fallen in love with dead "'was awaiting him alive and well in London. "'Well,' said Armiston, "'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 Leolin 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. "'Armiston, what do you mean? "'Is it possible I can see her tonight?' "'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 run away from Sir Norman Kingsley's "'in a state of friendly, and 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 anyone 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 have 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 at 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 has 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 "'am about horse with my exertions. "'One thing only, did she tell you who she was? "'No, except that her name was Leolene and nothing else, "'which struck me as a bit, 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 breakneck 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 Leolene, the other of La Masque, "'both were badly in love, "'and just at that particular moment, very happy. "'Of course, the happiness of people in that state "'never lost longer than half an hour at a stretch, "'and then they are plunged back again "'into misery and distraction. "'But while it does last, in it, "'very intense and delightful, indeed. "'There were 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 Leolene, and there, Sir Norman, "'secured his horse, 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, Armistan?' 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 Armistan. "'But after you have been delivered over, "'you may fight your own battles "'and take care of yourself. "'Come on.' "'The door was unfastened, Armistan, "'spring 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.' "'Armistan 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 illumined 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 Armistan's absence, "'and now sat arrayed "'in a swelling amplitude of rose-colored satin, "'her 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 center of the room. "'You see, I have lost no time "'in obeying your ladyship's commands, "'began Armistan bowing low. "'Mrs. Laylene, 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 curtsied in return "'until her pink satin skirt ballooned out all over the floor. "'It was quite an affecting tableau, "'and so Armistan 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. "'Fair is Laylene. "'One word from such lips would be enough to repay me. "'Had I done a thousand-fold more,' responded Norman, laying his hand on his heart "'with another deep genuflection. "'Very pretty indeed,' remarked Armistan 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 "'til they have finished. "'Perhaps they may get on all the better if I take myself off. "'There are being always one too many in a case like this.' "'Then aloud, "'Madam, 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 "'Armistan bowed himself out "'and was gone before Laylene could detain him, "'even if she had 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, "'Grandesson, or Lord Jesterfield, all to nothing, "'he led her to a couch, 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 there's 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. "'Then I am grateful, though I cannot find words "'to express it. "'Madame, I would not listen to it if you would, "'for I have done nothing to deserve thanks. "'I wish I could tell you what I felt "'when Armistan told me you were alive and safe. "'You are very kind, but pray, do not call me, madame, "'say, Leolene. "'A thousand thanks, dear Leolene,' exclaimed Sir Norman, "'raising her hand to his lips "'and quite beside him with ecstasy. "'Ah, I did not tell you to say that,' she cried, "'with a gay laugh and a vivid blush. "'I never said you were to call me dear. "'I had arose from my heart to my lips,' said Sir Norman, "'with thrilling earnestness and fervor'd glance. "'For you are dear to me, dearer than all the world beside.' "'The flesh 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 perloined, lay passive "'and quite contented in his.' "'Sir Norman Kingsley is pleased to jest, "'of 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, Leolene. "'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. "'Leolene 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 how you were, and so I need. "'I used, hesitating and glowing to a degree "'before which her dress paled. "'Well,' Dara 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 Leolene in a sly whisper, "'and so I have got to know you very well. "'My own darling, and, oh, Leolene, "'may I hope, dare I hope, "'that you do not altogether hate me?' "'Leolene looked reflective, "'though her bleak eyes were sparkling "'under their sweeping lashes. "'Why, no,' she said to merely, "'I don't know as I do. "'It's very simple and improper to hate one's fellow creatures, "'you know, Sir Norman, "'and therefore I don't indulge in it. "'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 to be good enough to say you love me.' "'Again, Leolene laughed, "'and this time the bright dancing eyes beamed "'and their sparkling darkness fell upon him. "'I'm 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. "'Leolene, Leolene, "'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 maneuvers much more delectable "'to the enjoyers than to society at large. "'For fully ten minutes after Leolene's last speech, "'there was profound silence, "'but actions sometimes speak louder than words, "'and Leolene 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 zebra would have been "'crushed to death trying to get between them. "'And Sir Norman's face was fairly radiant. "'Leolene herself looked rather beaming, "'and she suddenly and without provocation, "'burst into a merry little peel of laughter. "'Well, for two people who were perfect strangers "'to each other half an hour ago, "'I think we have gone remarkably well. "'What will Armistown and Prudence say, "'I wonder, when they hear this? "'They will say what is the truth "'that I am the luckiest man in England. "'Oh Leolene, I have never thought it was in me "'to love anyone 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 Leolene. "'So Armistown 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 10 years old, "'we left it and came to London "'and lived in a house in Cheepside 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 Cheepside every week "'to give me lessons. "'It was not because I dislike 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 on 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, Leolene. "'Not even the count, Le Tranche. "'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 Leolene, "'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 Le Tranche "'anymore 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, Leolene?' "'Leolene f-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 Le Tranche "'here for about ten minutes just now. "'I would spoil his next wooing for him, "'or I am mistaken. "'No, no, cry Leolene, 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 Le Tranche?' "'He asked. "'For many reasons. "'First, he is disguised, "'where's false whiskers, mustache, 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 Le Tranche "'for wanting to marry you, for I presume he is only a man "'and not quite equal to impossibilities. "'How long is it since you first knew him?' "'Not two months. "'My courtship,' said Leolene with the gala, "'seemed 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 the Countess Le Tranche. "'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. "'Leolene, tell me how long it is "'since you have known me.' "'Nearly three months,' said Leolene, "'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 Leolene 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.' "'Leolene opened her bright eyes very wide. "'Tomorrow 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 Lailene. "'Now, give me a kiss, Lady Kingsley, "'and good night.' "'Lady Kingsley dutifully obeyed, "'and Sir Norman went out with a glow in his heart "'like a halo round a full moon.'" End of chapter nine.