The Midnight Queen [121]
me to doubt that, too! Hubert is as much lost to you as
Leoline!"
Leaving the volatile earl to put what construction pleased him
best on this last sententious remark, he resumed his march after
George, and was ushered, at last, into an ante-room near the
audience-chamber. Count L'Estrange, still attired as Count
L'Estrange, stood near a window overlooking the court-yard, and
as the page salaamed and withdrew, he turned round, and greeted
Sir Norman with his suavest air.
"The appointed hour is passed, Sir Norman Kingsley, but that is
partly your own fault. Your guide hither tells me that you
stopped for some time at the house of a fortune-teller, known as
La Masque. Why was this!"
"I was forced to stop on most important business," answered the
knight, still resolved to treat him as the count, until it should
please him to doff his incognito, "of which you shall hear anon.
Just now, our business is with Leoline."
"True! And as in a short time I start with yonder cavalcade,
there is but little time to lose. Apropos, Kingsley, who is that
mysterious woman, La Masque?"
"She is, or was (for she is dead sow) a French lady, of noble
birth, and the sister of Leoline!"
"Her sister! And have you discovered Leoline's history?"
"I have."
"And her name!"
"And her name. She is Leoline De Montmorenci! And with the
proudest blood of France in her veins, living obscure and unknown
- a stranger in a strange land since childhood; but, with God's
grace and your help, I hope to see her restored to all she has
lost, before long."
"you know me, then?" said his companion, half-smiling.
"Yes, your majesty," answered Sir Norman, bowing low before the
king.
CHAPTER XXIII.
FINIS
As the last glimpse of moonlight and of Hubert's bright face
vanished, Leoline took to pacing up and down the room in a most
conflicting and excited state of mind. So many things had
happened during the past night; so rapid and unprecedented had
been the course of events; so changed had her whole life become
within the last twelve hours, that when she came to think it all
over, it fairly made her giddy. Dressing for her bridal; the
terrible announcement of Prudence; the death-like swoon; the
awakening at the plague-pit; the maniac flight through the
streets; the cold plunge in the river; her rescue; her interview
with Sir Norman, and her promise; the visit of La Masque; the
appearance of the count; her abduction; her journey here; the
coming of Hubert, and their suddenly-discovered relationship. It
was enough to stun any one; and the end was not yet. Would
Hubert effect his escape? Would they be able to free her? What
place was this, and who was Count L'Estrange? It was a great
deal easier to propound this catechism to herself than to find
answers to her own questions; and so she walked up and down,
worrying her pretty little head with all sorts of anxieties,
until it was a perfect miracle that softening of the brain did
not ensue.
Her feet gave out sooner than her brain, though; and she got so
tired before long, that she dropped into a seat, with a
long-drawn, anxious sigh; and, worn out with fatigue and
watching, she, at last, fell asleep.
And sleeping, she dreamed. It seemed to her that the count and
Sir Norman were before her, in her chamber in the old house on
London Bridge, tossing her heart between them like a sort of
shuttlecock. By-and-by, with two things like two drumsticks,
they began hammering away at the poor, little, fluttering heart,
as if it were an anvil and they were a pair of blacksmiths, while
the loud knocks upon it resounded through the room. For a time,
she was so bewildered that she could not comprehend what it
meant; but, at last, she became conscious that some one was
rapping at the door. Pressing one hand over her startled heart,
she called "Come
Leoline!"
Leaving the volatile earl to put what construction pleased him
best on this last sententious remark, he resumed his march after
George, and was ushered, at last, into an ante-room near the
audience-chamber. Count L'Estrange, still attired as Count
L'Estrange, stood near a window overlooking the court-yard, and
as the page salaamed and withdrew, he turned round, and greeted
Sir Norman with his suavest air.
"The appointed hour is passed, Sir Norman Kingsley, but that is
partly your own fault. Your guide hither tells me that you
stopped for some time at the house of a fortune-teller, known as
La Masque. Why was this!"
"I was forced to stop on most important business," answered the
knight, still resolved to treat him as the count, until it should
please him to doff his incognito, "of which you shall hear anon.
Just now, our business is with Leoline."
"True! And as in a short time I start with yonder cavalcade,
there is but little time to lose. Apropos, Kingsley, who is that
mysterious woman, La Masque?"
"She is, or was (for she is dead sow) a French lady, of noble
birth, and the sister of Leoline!"
"Her sister! And have you discovered Leoline's history?"
"I have."
"And her name!"
"And her name. She is Leoline De Montmorenci! And with the
proudest blood of France in her veins, living obscure and unknown
- a stranger in a strange land since childhood; but, with God's
grace and your help, I hope to see her restored to all she has
lost, before long."
"you know me, then?" said his companion, half-smiling.
"Yes, your majesty," answered Sir Norman, bowing low before the
king.
CHAPTER XXIII.
FINIS
As the last glimpse of moonlight and of Hubert's bright face
vanished, Leoline took to pacing up and down the room in a most
conflicting and excited state of mind. So many things had
happened during the past night; so rapid and unprecedented had
been the course of events; so changed had her whole life become
within the last twelve hours, that when she came to think it all
over, it fairly made her giddy. Dressing for her bridal; the
terrible announcement of Prudence; the death-like swoon; the
awakening at the plague-pit; the maniac flight through the
streets; the cold plunge in the river; her rescue; her interview
with Sir Norman, and her promise; the visit of La Masque; the
appearance of the count; her abduction; her journey here; the
coming of Hubert, and their suddenly-discovered relationship. It
was enough to stun any one; and the end was not yet. Would
Hubert effect his escape? Would they be able to free her? What
place was this, and who was Count L'Estrange? It was a great
deal easier to propound this catechism to herself than to find
answers to her own questions; and so she walked up and down,
worrying her pretty little head with all sorts of anxieties,
until it was a perfect miracle that softening of the brain did
not ensue.
Her feet gave out sooner than her brain, though; and she got so
tired before long, that she dropped into a seat, with a
long-drawn, anxious sigh; and, worn out with fatigue and
watching, she, at last, fell asleep.
And sleeping, she dreamed. It seemed to her that the count and
Sir Norman were before her, in her chamber in the old house on
London Bridge, tossing her heart between them like a sort of
shuttlecock. By-and-by, with two things like two drumsticks,
they began hammering away at the poor, little, fluttering heart,
as if it were an anvil and they were a pair of blacksmiths, while
the loud knocks upon it resounded through the room. For a time,
she was so bewildered that she could not comprehend what it
meant; but, at last, she became conscious that some one was
rapping at the door. Pressing one hand over her startled heart,
she called "Come