The Midnight Queen [42]
this very night, and died - or, at least,
Prudence thought so - an hour or two before the time."
"Then she was not married?" cried Sir Norman, in an ecstasy of
delight.
"Not a bit of it; and what is more, didn't want to be; and
judging from the remarks of Prudence, I should say, of the two,
rather preferred the plague."
"Then why was she going to do it? You don't mean to say she was
forced?"
"Ah, but I do, though! Prudence owned it with the most charming
candor in the world."
"Did you hear the name of the person she was to have married?"
asked Sir Norman, with kindling eyes.
"I think not; they called him the count, if my memory serves me,
and Prudence intimated that he knew nothing of the melancholy
fate of Mistress Leoline. Moat likely it was the person in the
cloak and slouched hat we caw talking to the watchman."
Sir Norman said nothing, but he thought a good deal, and the
burden of his thoughts was an ardent and heartfelt wish that the
Court L'Estrange was once more under the swords of the three
robbers, and waiting for him to ride to the rescue - that was
all!
"La Masque urged Prudence to go back," continued Ormiston; "but
Prudence respectfully declined, and went her way bemoaning the
fate of her darling. When she was gone, I stepped up to Madame
Masque, and that lady's first words of greeting were an earnest
hope that I had been edified and improved by what I had
overheard."
"She saw you, then?" said Sir Norman.
"See me? I believe you! She has more eyes than ever Argus had,
and each one is as sharp as a cambric needle. Of course I
apologized, and so on, and she forgave me handsomely, and then we
fell to discoursing - need I tell you on what subject?"
"Love, of course," said Sir Norman.
"Yes, mingled with entreaties to take off her mask that would
have moved a heart of atone. It moved what was better - the
heart of La Masque; and, Kingsley, she has consented to do it;
and she says that if, after seeing her face, I still love her,
she will be my wife."
"Is it possible? My dear Ormiston, I congratulate you with all
my heart!"
"Thank you! After that she left me, and I walked away in such a
frenzy of delight that I couldn't have told whether I was
treading this earth or the shining shares of the seventh heaven,
when suddenly there flew past me a figure all in white - the
figure of a bride, Kingsley, pursued by an excited mob. We were
both near the river, and the first thing I knew, she was plump
into it, with the crowd behind, yelling to stop her, that she was
ill of the plague."
"Great Heaven! and was she drowned?"
"No, though it was not her fault. The Earl of Rochester and his
page - you remember that page, I fancy - were out in their barge,
and the earl picked her up. Then I got a boat, set out after
her, claimed her - for I recognized her, of course - brought her
ashore, and deposited her safe and sound in her own house. What
do you think of that?"
"Ormiston," said Norman, catching him by the shoulder, with a
very excited face, "is this true?"
"True as preaching, Kingsley, every word of it! And the most
extraordinary part of the business is, that her dip in cold water
has effectually cured her of the plague; not a trace of it
remains."
Sir Norman dropped his hand, and walked on, staring straight
before him, perfectly speechless. In fact, no known language in
the world could have done justice to his feelings at that precise
period; for three times that night, in three different shapes,
had he seen this same Leoline, and at the same moment he was
watching her decked out in royal state in the rain, Ormiston had
probably been assisting her from her cold bath in the river
Thames.
Astonishment and consternation are words altogether too feeble to
express his state of mind; but one idea remained clear and bright
amid
Prudence thought so - an hour or two before the time."
"Then she was not married?" cried Sir Norman, in an ecstasy of
delight.
"Not a bit of it; and what is more, didn't want to be; and
judging from the remarks of Prudence, I should say, of the two,
rather preferred the plague."
"Then why was she going to do it? You don't mean to say she was
forced?"
"Ah, but I do, though! Prudence owned it with the most charming
candor in the world."
"Did you hear the name of the person she was to have married?"
asked Sir Norman, with kindling eyes.
"I think not; they called him the count, if my memory serves me,
and Prudence intimated that he knew nothing of the melancholy
fate of Mistress Leoline. Moat likely it was the person in the
cloak and slouched hat we caw talking to the watchman."
Sir Norman said nothing, but he thought a good deal, and the
burden of his thoughts was an ardent and heartfelt wish that the
Court L'Estrange was once more under the swords of the three
robbers, and waiting for him to ride to the rescue - that was
all!
"La Masque urged Prudence to go back," continued Ormiston; "but
Prudence respectfully declined, and went her way bemoaning the
fate of her darling. When she was gone, I stepped up to Madame
Masque, and that lady's first words of greeting were an earnest
hope that I had been edified and improved by what I had
overheard."
"She saw you, then?" said Sir Norman.
"See me? I believe you! She has more eyes than ever Argus had,
and each one is as sharp as a cambric needle. Of course I
apologized, and so on, and she forgave me handsomely, and then we
fell to discoursing - need I tell you on what subject?"
"Love, of course," said Sir Norman.
"Yes, mingled with entreaties to take off her mask that would
have moved a heart of atone. It moved what was better - the
heart of La Masque; and, Kingsley, she has consented to do it;
and she says that if, after seeing her face, I still love her,
she will be my wife."
"Is it possible? My dear Ormiston, I congratulate you with all
my heart!"
"Thank you! After that she left me, and I walked away in such a
frenzy of delight that I couldn't have told whether I was
treading this earth or the shining shares of the seventh heaven,
when suddenly there flew past me a figure all in white - the
figure of a bride, Kingsley, pursued by an excited mob. We were
both near the river, and the first thing I knew, she was plump
into it, with the crowd behind, yelling to stop her, that she was
ill of the plague."
"Great Heaven! and was she drowned?"
"No, though it was not her fault. The Earl of Rochester and his
page - you remember that page, I fancy - were out in their barge,
and the earl picked her up. Then I got a boat, set out after
her, claimed her - for I recognized her, of course - brought her
ashore, and deposited her safe and sound in her own house. What
do you think of that?"
"Ormiston," said Norman, catching him by the shoulder, with a
very excited face, "is this true?"
"True as preaching, Kingsley, every word of it! And the most
extraordinary part of the business is, that her dip in cold water
has effectually cured her of the plague; not a trace of it
remains."
Sir Norman dropped his hand, and walked on, staring straight
before him, perfectly speechless. In fact, no known language in
the world could have done justice to his feelings at that precise
period; for three times that night, in three different shapes,
had he seen this same Leoline, and at the same moment he was
watching her decked out in royal state in the rain, Ormiston had
probably been assisting her from her cold bath in the river
Thames.
Astonishment and consternation are words altogether too feeble to
express his state of mind; but one idea remained clear and bright
amid