The Midnight Queen

  CHAPTER XV. LEOLINE'S VISITORS.

  If things were done right--but they are not and, never will be, whilethis whirligig world of mistakes spins round, and all Adam's children,to the end of the chapter, will continue sinning to-day and repentingto-morrow, falling the next and bewailing it the day after. If Leolinehad gone to bed directly, like a good, dutiful little girl, as SirNorman ordered her, she would have saved herself a good deal of troubleand tears; but Leoline and sleep were destined to shake hands and turntheir backs on each other that night. It was time for all honest folksto be in bed, and the dark-eyed beauty knew it too, but she had nonotion of going, nevertheless. She stood in the centre of the room,where he had left her, with a spot like a scarlet roseberry on eithercheek; a soft half-smile on the perfect mouth, and a light unexpressiblytender and dreamy, in those artesian wells of beauty--her eyes. Mostyoung girls of green and tender years, suffering from "Love's youngdream," and that sort of thing, have just that soft, shy, brooding look,whenever their thoughts happen to turn to their particular beloved; andthere are few eyes so ugly that it does not beautify, even should theybe as cross as two sticks. You should have seen Leoline standing inthe centre of her pretty room, with her bright rose-satin glancing andglittering, and flowing over rug and mat; with her black waving hairclustering and curling like shining floss silk; with a rich whiteshimmer of pearls on the pale smooth forehead and large beautiful arms.She did look irresistibly bewitching beyond doubt; and it was just aswell for Sir Norman's peace of mind that he did not see her, for he wasbad enough without that. So she stood thinking tenderly of him for ahalf-hour or so, quite undisturbed by the storm; and how strange it wasthat 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. Shecould not realize it at all; and with a little sigh--half pleasure, halfpresentiment--she walked to the window, drew the curtain, and lookedout at the night. All was peaceful and serene; the moon was full tooverflowing, and a great deal of extra light ran over the brim; quite aquantity of stars were out, and were winking pleasantly down at the darklittle planet below, that went round, and round, with grim stoicism, andpaid no attention to anybody's business but its own. She saw the heapsof black, charred ashes that the rush of rain had quenched; she saw thestill and empty street; the frowning row of gloomy houses opposite, andthe man on guard before one of them. She had watched that man all day,thinking, with a sick shudder, of the plague-stricken prisoners heguarded, and reading its piteous inscription, "Lord have mercy on us!"till the words seemed branded on her brain. While she looked now, anupper window was opened, a night-cap was thrust out and a voice from itscavernous 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 tillmorning."

  "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 ofthe bell, and the monotonous cry of the driver, "Bring out your dead!bring out your dead!" echoed on the pale night's silence; and thepest-cart came rumbling and jolting along with its load of death. Thewatchman hailed the driver, according to promise, and they entered thehouse 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 comeround," 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 seesomebody else standing at her elbow. She had been quite alone when shelooked out; she was alone no longer; there had been no noise, yet someone had entered, and was standing beside her. A tall figure, all inblack, with its sweeping velvet robes spangled with stars of goldenrubies, a perfect figure of incomparable grace and beauty. It had worn acloak that had dropped lightly from its shoulders, and lay on the floorand the long hair streamed in darkness over shoulder and waist. Theface was masked, the form stood erect and perfectly motionless, and thescream of surprise and consternation that arose to Leoline's lips diedout in wordless terror. Her noiseless visitor perceived it, and touchingher arm lightly with one little white hand, said in her sweetest andmost exquisite of tones:

  "My child, do not tremble so, and do not look so deathly white. You knowme, 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 ityour habit every night to look out of your window in full dress untilmorning?"

  "How did you enter?" asked Leoline, her curiosity overcoming for amoment even her fear.

  "Through the door. Not a difficult thing, either, if you leave it wideopen 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 tothe door and fastening it after them."

  "Rest assured, I shall do so for the future," said Leoline, with alook that would have reminded Sir Norman of Miranda had he seen it."I scarcely expected the honor of any more visits, particularly fromstrangers to-night."

  "Civil, that! Will you ask me to sit down, or am I to consider myself anunseasonable intruder, and depart?"

  "Madame, will you do me the honor to be seated. The hour, as you say, issomewhat unseasonable, and you will oblige me by letting me know to whatI am indebted for the pleasure of this visit, as quickly as possible."

  There was something quite dignified about Mistress Leoline as she sweptrustling past La Masque, sank into the pillowy depths of her lounge, andmotioned her visitor to a seat with a slight and graceful wave of herhand. 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 awonderful rate; but she thought that betraying such a feeling would notbe the thing. Perhaps the tall, dark figure saw it, and smiled behindher mask; but outwardly she only leaned lightly against the back of thechair, 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 cometo say is not for the ears of any third person living:"

  "We are entirely alone, madame," replied Leoline, opening her black eyesvery 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 shedeserted you for fear of the plague."

  "Yes, yes!"

  "Well, that did not save her; nay, it even brought on what she dreadedso much. Your nurse is plague-stricken, my dear, and lies ill unto deathin the pest-house in Finsbury Fields."

  "Oh, dreadful!" exclaimed Leoline, while every drop of blood fled fromher face. "My poor, poor old nurse!"

  "Your poor, poor old nurse left you without much tenderness when shethought you dying of the same disease," said La Masque, quietly.

  "Oh, that is nothing. The suddenness, the shock drove her to it. Mypoor, dear Prudence."

  "Well, you can do nothing for her now," said La Masque, in a tone ofslight impatience. "Prudence is beyond all human aid, and so--let herrest 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 therecollection.

  "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. Ormis
ton, the other was," hesitating and blushing vividly,"Sir Norman Kingsley."

  La Masque leaned across her chair, and laid one dainty finger lightly onthe 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 ittouched Leoline, "do not be angry with me. It is no idle curiosity thatsent me here at this hour to ask impertinent questions, but a claim thatI 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 livedalone 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," saidLeoline, 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 parentsdied 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 mefancy 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 knowthat your father and mother are both dead these fourteen years!"

  Leoline's great black eyes were fixed on her face with a look so wildand eager, that La Masque laid her hand lightly and soothingly on hershoulder.

  "Don't look at me with such a spectral face! What is there soextraordinary 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 truealso; 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'sfather and mother!" and again La Masque slightly laughed.

  "You mock me, madame!" cried Leoline, passionately. "You are cruel--youare 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 Ishall tell you; what else do you suppose I have come for to-night? Lookhere! Do you see this?"

  She drew out from some hidden pocket in her dress a small andbeautifully-wrought casket of ivory and silver, with straps and claspsof silver, and a tiny key of the same.

  "Well!" asked Leoline, looking from it to her, with the blank air of oneutterly 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 yourwhole history--do you understand?"

  She was looking so white, and staring so hard and so hopelessly, thatthere was need of the question. She took the casket and gazed at it witha perplexed air.

  "My child, have your thoughts gone wool-gathering? Do you not comprehendwhat 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 theblack mask. "But; madame, who are you?"

  "Have I not told you? What a pretty inquisitor it is! I am LaMasque--your friend, now; something more soon, as you will see when youread what I have spoken of. Do not ask me how I have come by it--youwill read all about it there. I did not know that I would give it to youto-night, but I have a strange foreboding that it is destined to be mylast on earth. And, Leoline my child, before I leave you, let me hearyou 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--letme hear you say; `La Masque, whatever you've done to me, however youhave wronged me, I will forgive you!' Can you say that?"

  Leoline repeated it simply, like a little child. La Masque took herhand, held it between both her own, leaned over and looked earnestly inher face.

  "My little Leoline! my beautiful rosebud! May Heaven bless you and grantyou 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 littlematter 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 asecret you would tremble to hear. And now I must leave you. Come with meto the door, and fasten it as soon as I go out, lest you should forgetit altogether."

  Leoline, with a dazed expression, thrust the precious little casket intothe bosom of her dress, and taking up the lamp, preceded her visitordown stairs. At the door they paused, and La Masque, with her hand onher arm, repeated, in a low, earnest voice,

  "Leoline, beware of Count L'Estrange, and become Lady Kingsley as soonas you can."

  "I will hear that name to-morrow!" thought Leoline, with a glad littlethrill at her heart, as La Masque flitted out into the moonlight.

  Leoline closed and locked the door, driving the bolts into theirsockets, and making all secure. "I defy any one to get in againtonight!" she said, smiling at her own dexterity; and lamp in hand, sheran lightly up stairs to read the long unsolved riddle.

  So eager was she, that she had crossed the room, laid the lamp on thetable, and sat down before it, ere she became aware that she was notalone. Some one was leaning against the mantel, his arm on it, and hiseyes do her, gazing with an air of incomparable coolness and ease. Itwas a man this time--something more than a man,--a count, and CountL'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 aself-possessed smile.

  "Pardon, fair Leoline, if I intrude! But have I not a right to come atall 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 mybride, 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 yoursex! Nevertheless, I'm afraid I must insist on your becoming CountessL'Estrange, and that immediately!"

  "Never, sir! I will die first!"

  "Oh, no! We could not spare such a bright little beauty out of this uglyworld! You will live, and live for me!"

  "Sir!" cried Leoline, white with passion, and her black eyes blazingwith a fire that would have killed him, could fiery glances slay! "Ido not know how you have entered here; but I do know, if you are agentleman, you will leave me instantly! Go sir! I never wish to see youagain!"

  "But when I wish to see you so much, my darling Leoline," said thecount, with provoking indifference, "what does a little reluctance onyour part signify? Get your hood and mantle, my love--my horse awaitsus without--and let us fly where neither plague nor mortal man willinterrupt our nuptials!"

  "Will no one take this man away?" she cried, looking helplessly round,and wringing her hands.

  "Certainly not, my de
ar--not even Sir Norman Kingsley! George, I amafraid this pretty little vixen will not go peaceably; you had bettercome 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 elsewas 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.