The Midnight Queen [112]
is not accidental."
"You are right. Leoline knows already; for, with the
presentiment that my end was near, I visited her when you left,
and gave her her whole history, in writing. The explanation is
simple enough. Leoline, Miranda, and Hubert, are sisters and
brother."
Some misty idea that such was the case had been struggling
through Sir Norman's slow mind, unformed and without shape, ever
since he had seen the trio, therefore he was not the least
astonished when he heard the fact announced. Only in one thing
he was a little disappointed.
"Then Hubert is really a boy?" he said, half dejectedly.
"Certainly he is. What did you take him to be?"
"Why, I thought - that is, I do not know," said Sir Norman, quite
blushing at being guilty of so much romance, "but that he was a
woman in disguise. You see he is so handsome, and looks so much
like Leoline, that I could not help thinking so."
"He is Leoline's twin brother - that accounts for it. When does
she become your wife?"
"This very morning, God willing!" raid Sir Norman, fervently.
"Amen! And may her life and yours be long and happy. What
becomes of the rest?"
"Since Hubert is her brother, he shall come with us, if he will.
As for the other, she, alas! is dead."
"Dead!" cried La Masque. "How? When? She was living, tonight!"
"True! She died of a wound."
"A wound? Surely not given by the dwarfs hand?"
"No, no; it was quite accidental. But since you know so much of
the dwarf, perhaps you also know he is now the king's prisoner?"
"I did not know it; but I surmised as much when I discovered that
you and Count L'Estrange, followed by such a body of men, visited
the ruin. Well, his career has been long and dark enough, and
even the plague seemed to spare him for the executioner. And so
the poor mock-queen is dead? Well, her sister will not long
survive her."
"Good Heavens, madame!" cried Sir Norman, aghast. "You do not
mean to say that Leoline is going to die?"
"Oh, no! I hope Leoline has a long and happy life before her.
But the wretched, guilty sister I mean is, myself; for I, too,
Sir Norman, am her sister."
At this new disclosure, Sir Norman stood perfectly petrified; and
La Masque, looking down at the dreadful place at her feet, went
rapidly on:
"Alas and alas! that it should be so; but it is the direful
truth. We bear the same name, we had the same father; and yet I
have been the curse and bane of their lives."
"And Leoline knows this?"
"She never knew it until this night, or any one else alive; and
no one should know it now, were not my ghastly life ending. I
prayed her to forgive me for the wrong I have done her; and she
may, for she is gentle and good - but when, when shall I be able
to forgive myself?"
The sharp pain in her voice jarred on Sir Norman's ear and heart;
and, to get rid of its dreary echo, he hurriedly asked:
"You say you bear the same name. May I ask what name that is?"
"It is one, Sir Norman Kingsley, before which your own ancient
title pales. We are Montmorencis, and in our veins runs the
proudest blood in France."
"Then Leoline is French and of noble birth?" said Sir Norman,
with a thrill of pleasure. "I loved her for herself alone, and
would have wedded her had she been the child of a beggar; but I
rejoice to hear this nevertheless. Her father, then, bore a
title?"
"Her father was the Marquis de Montmorenci. but Leoline's mother
and mine were not the same - had they been, the lives of all four
might have been very different; but it is too late to lament that
now. My mother had no gentle blood in her veins, as Leoline's
had, for she was but a fisherman's daughter, torn from her home,
and married by force. Neither did she love my father
notwithstanding his youth, rank, and passionate love for her, for
she was betrothed to