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The Midnight Queen [33]

By Root 1973 0
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 weighty burden, if necessity

required."



"Thank you, sir," said the faint voice, faintly; "but I would

rather walk. Where are you taking me to?"



"To your own house, if you wish - it is quite close at hand,"



"Yes. Yes. Let us go there! Prudence in 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, wearily; "only I am so tired.

Oh, I wish I were home!"



Ormiston half led, half lifted her up the stairs.



"You are almost there, dear lady - see, it is close st hand!"



She half lifted her languid eyes, but did not speak. Leaning

panting on his arm, he drew her gently on until they reached her

door. It was still unfastened. Prudence had kept her word, and

not gone near it; and he opened it, and helped her in.



"Where now?" h? asked.



"Up stairs," 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 to find them."



Ormiston crowed the room - fortunately he knew the latitude of

the place -and moving his hand with gingerly precaution along

the mantel-shelf, lest he should upset any of the gimcracks

thereon, soon obtained the articles named, and struck a light.

The lady was leaning wearily against the door-post, but now she

came forward, and dropped exhausted into the downy pillows of a

lounge.



"Is there anything I can do for you, madame?" began Ormiston,

with as solicitous an air 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, filled a glass of Burgundy, and as he was

returning with it, was startled by s 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 palled down off

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 all he could say.



"Thank God!" she exclaimed, fervently clasping her hands. "But

oh! how can it have happened? It mast 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 old

Father Thames. 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 set 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 do not mean that. I mean" - with a slight shudder - "are you

not one of those I
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