The Midnight Queen [11]
by the arm, he hurried along with a velocity
rather uncomfortable, considering they both wore cloaks, and the
night was excessively sultry. The gloomy vehicle and its
fainting burden followed close behind.
"What do you mean to do with her?" asked Ormiston, as soon as he
found breath enough to speak.
"Haven't I told you?" said Sir Norman, impatiently. Take her
home, of course."
"And after that?"
"Go for a doctor."
"And after that?"
"Take care of her till she gets well."
"And after that?"
"Why - find out her history, and all about her."
"And after that?"
"After that! After that! How do I know what after that!"
exclaimed Sir Norman, rather fiercely. "Ormiston, what do you
mean?"
Ormiston laughed.
"And after that you'll marry her, I suppose!"
"Perhaps I may, if she will have me. And what if I do?"
"Oh, nothing! Only it struck me you may be saving another man's
wife."
"That's true!" said Sir Norman, in a subdued tone, "and if such
should unhappily be the case, nothing will remain but to live in
hopes that he may be carried off by the plague."
"Pray Heaven that we may not be carried off by it ourselves!"
said Ormiston, with a slight shudder. "I shall dream of nothing
but that horrible plague-pit for a week. If it were not for La
Masque, I would not stay another hour in this pest-stricken
city."
"Here we are," was Sir Norman's rather inapposite answer, as they
entered Piccadilly, and stopped before a large and handsome
house, whose gloomy portal was faintly illuminated by a large
lamp. "Here, my man just carry the lady in."
He unlocked the door as he spoke, and led the way across a long
hall to a sleeping chamber, elegantly fitter up. The man placed
the body on the bed and departed while Sir Norman, seizing a
handbell, rang a peal that brought a staid-looking housekeeper to
the scene directly. Seeing a lady, young and beautiful, in bride
robes, lying apparently dead on her young master's bed at that
hour of the night, the discreet matron, over whose virtuous head
fifty years and a snow-white cap had passed, started back with a
slight scream.
"Gracious me, Sir Norman! What on earth is the meaning of this?"
"My dear Mrs. Preston," began Sir Norman blandly, this young lady
is ill of the plague, and - "
But all further explanation was cut short by a horrified shriek
from the old lady, and a precipitate rush from the room. Down
stairs she flew, informing the other servants as she went,
between her screams, and when Sir Norman, in a violent rage, went
in search of her five minutes after, he found not only the
kitchen, but the whole house deserted.
"Well," said Ormiston, as Sir Norman strode back, looking fiery
hot and savagely angry.
"Well, they have all fled, every man and woman of them, the - "
Sir Norman ground out something not quite proper, behind his
moustache. "I shall have to go for the doctor, myself. Doctor
Forbes is a friend of mine, and lives near; and you," looking at
him rather doubtfully, "would you mind staying here, lest she
should recover consciousness before I return?"
"To tell you the truth," said Ormiston, with charming frankness,
"I should! The lady is extremely beautiful, I must own; but she
looks uncomfortably corpse-like at this present moment. I do not
wish to die of the plague, either, until I see La Masque once
more; and so if it is all the same to you, my dear friend, I will
have the greatest pleasure in stepping round with you to the
doctor's."
Sir Norman, though he did not much approve of this, could not
very well object, and the two sallied forth together. Walking a
short distance up Piccadilly, they struck off into a bye street,
and soon reached the house they were in search of. Sir Norman
knocked loudly at the door, which was opened by the doctor
himself. Briefly and
rather uncomfortable, considering they both wore cloaks, and the
night was excessively sultry. The gloomy vehicle and its
fainting burden followed close behind.
"What do you mean to do with her?" asked Ormiston, as soon as he
found breath enough to speak.
"Haven't I told you?" said Sir Norman, impatiently. Take her
home, of course."
"And after that?"
"Go for a doctor."
"And after that?"
"Take care of her till she gets well."
"And after that?"
"Why - find out her history, and all about her."
"And after that?"
"After that! After that! How do I know what after that!"
exclaimed Sir Norman, rather fiercely. "Ormiston, what do you
mean?"
Ormiston laughed.
"And after that you'll marry her, I suppose!"
"Perhaps I may, if she will have me. And what if I do?"
"Oh, nothing! Only it struck me you may be saving another man's
wife."
"That's true!" said Sir Norman, in a subdued tone, "and if such
should unhappily be the case, nothing will remain but to live in
hopes that he may be carried off by the plague."
"Pray Heaven that we may not be carried off by it ourselves!"
said Ormiston, with a slight shudder. "I shall dream of nothing
but that horrible plague-pit for a week. If it were not for La
Masque, I would not stay another hour in this pest-stricken
city."
"Here we are," was Sir Norman's rather inapposite answer, as they
entered Piccadilly, and stopped before a large and handsome
house, whose gloomy portal was faintly illuminated by a large
lamp. "Here, my man just carry the lady in."
He unlocked the door as he spoke, and led the way across a long
hall to a sleeping chamber, elegantly fitter up. The man placed
the body on the bed and departed while Sir Norman, seizing a
handbell, rang a peal that brought a staid-looking housekeeper to
the scene directly. Seeing a lady, young and beautiful, in bride
robes, lying apparently dead on her young master's bed at that
hour of the night, the discreet matron, over whose virtuous head
fifty years and a snow-white cap had passed, started back with a
slight scream.
"Gracious me, Sir Norman! What on earth is the meaning of this?"
"My dear Mrs. Preston," began Sir Norman blandly, this young lady
is ill of the plague, and - "
But all further explanation was cut short by a horrified shriek
from the old lady, and a precipitate rush from the room. Down
stairs she flew, informing the other servants as she went,
between her screams, and when Sir Norman, in a violent rage, went
in search of her five minutes after, he found not only the
kitchen, but the whole house deserted.
"Well," said Ormiston, as Sir Norman strode back, looking fiery
hot and savagely angry.
"Well, they have all fled, every man and woman of them, the - "
Sir Norman ground out something not quite proper, behind his
moustache. "I shall have to go for the doctor, myself. Doctor
Forbes is a friend of mine, and lives near; and you," looking at
him rather doubtfully, "would you mind staying here, lest she
should recover consciousness before I return?"
"To tell you the truth," said Ormiston, with charming frankness,
"I should! The lady is extremely beautiful, I must own; but she
looks uncomfortably corpse-like at this present moment. I do not
wish to die of the plague, either, until I see La Masque once
more; and so if it is all the same to you, my dear friend, I will
have the greatest pleasure in stepping round with you to the
doctor's."
Sir Norman, though he did not much approve of this, could not
very well object, and the two sallied forth together. Walking a
short distance up Piccadilly, they struck off into a bye street,
and soon reached the house they were in search of. Sir Norman
knocked loudly at the door, which was opened by the doctor
himself. Briefly and