The Midnight Queen [44]
it never did anything else; but on that
occasion its motion was so mush accelerated, that any doctor
feeling his pulse might have justly set him down as a bad case of
heart-disease. A small, bright ray of light streamed like a
beacon of hope from an upper window, and the lover looked at it
as a clouded mariner might at the shining of the North Star.
"Are you coming in, Ormiston?" he inquired, feeling, for the
first time in his life, almost bashful. "It seems to me it would
only be right, you know."
"I don't mind going in and introducing` you," said Ormiston; "but
after you have been delivered over, you may fight poor own
battles, and take care of yourself. Come on."
The door was unfastened, and Ormiston sprang upstairs with the
air of a man-quite at home, followed more decorously by Sir
Norman. The door of the lady's room stood ajar, as he had left
it, and in answer to his "tapping at the chamber-door," a sweet
feminine voice called "come in."
Ormiston promptly obeyed, and the next instant they were in the
room, and in the presence of the dead bride. Certainly she did
not look dead, but very much alive, just then, as she sat in an
easy-chair, drawn up before the dressing-table, on which stood
the solitary lamp that illumed the chamber. In one hand she held
a small mirror, or, as it was then called, a "sprunking-glass,"
in which she was contemplating her own beauty, with as much
satisfaction as any other pretty girl might justly do. She had
changed her drenched dress during Ormiston's absence, and now sat
arrayed in a swelling amplitude of rose-colored satin, her dark
hair clasped and bound by a circle of milk-white pearls, and her
pale, beautiful face looking ten degrees more beautiful than
ever, in contrast with the bright rose-silk, shining dark hair,
and rich white jewels. She rose up as they entered, and came
forward with the same glow on her face and the same light in her
eyes that one of them had seen before, and stood with drooping
eyelashes, lovely as a vision in the centre of the room.
"You see I have lost no time in obeying your ladyship's
commands," began Ormiston, bowing low. "Mistress Leoline, allow
me to present Sir Norman Kingsley."
Sir Norman Kingsley bent almost as profoundly before the lady as
the lord high chancellor had done before Queen Miranda; and the
lady courtesied, in return, until her pink-satin skirt ballooned
out all over the floor. It was quite an affecting tableau. And
so Ormiston felt, as he stood eyeing it with preternatural
gravity.
"I owe my life to Sir Norman Kingsley," murmured the faint, sweet
voice of the lady, "and could not rest until I had thanked him.
I have no words to say how deeply thankful and grateful I am."
"Fairest Leoline! one word from such lips would be enough to
repay me, had I done a thousandfold more," responded Norman,
laying his hand on his heart, with another deep genuflection.
"Very pretty indeed!" remarked Ormiston to himself, with a little
approving nod; "but I'm afraid they won't be able to keep it up,
and go on talking on stilts like that, till they have finished.
Perhaps they may get on all the better if I take myself off,
there being always one too many in a case like this." Then
aloud: "Madame, I regret that I am obliged to depart, having a
most particular appointment; but, doubtless, my friend will be
able to express himself without my assistance. I have the honor
to wish you both good-night."
With which neat and appropriate speech, Ormiston bowed himself
out, and was gone before Leoline could detain him, even if she
wished to do so. Probably, however, she thought the care of one
gentleman sufficient responsibility at once; and she did not look
very seriously distressed by his departure; and, the moment he
disappeared, Sir Norman brightened up wonderfully.
It is very discomposing to the feelings to make love
occasion its motion was so mush accelerated, that any doctor
feeling his pulse might have justly set him down as a bad case of
heart-disease. A small, bright ray of light streamed like a
beacon of hope from an upper window, and the lover looked at it
as a clouded mariner might at the shining of the North Star.
"Are you coming in, Ormiston?" he inquired, feeling, for the
first time in his life, almost bashful. "It seems to me it would
only be right, you know."
"I don't mind going in and introducing` you," said Ormiston; "but
after you have been delivered over, you may fight poor own
battles, and take care of yourself. Come on."
The door was unfastened, and Ormiston sprang upstairs with the
air of a man-quite at home, followed more decorously by Sir
Norman. The door of the lady's room stood ajar, as he had left
it, and in answer to his "tapping at the chamber-door," a sweet
feminine voice called "come in."
Ormiston promptly obeyed, and the next instant they were in the
room, and in the presence of the dead bride. Certainly she did
not look dead, but very much alive, just then, as she sat in an
easy-chair, drawn up before the dressing-table, on which stood
the solitary lamp that illumed the chamber. In one hand she held
a small mirror, or, as it was then called, a "sprunking-glass,"
in which she was contemplating her own beauty, with as much
satisfaction as any other pretty girl might justly do. She had
changed her drenched dress during Ormiston's absence, and now sat
arrayed in a swelling amplitude of rose-colored satin, her dark
hair clasped and bound by a circle of milk-white pearls, and her
pale, beautiful face looking ten degrees more beautiful than
ever, in contrast with the bright rose-silk, shining dark hair,
and rich white jewels. She rose up as they entered, and came
forward with the same glow on her face and the same light in her
eyes that one of them had seen before, and stood with drooping
eyelashes, lovely as a vision in the centre of the room.
"You see I have lost no time in obeying your ladyship's
commands," began Ormiston, bowing low. "Mistress Leoline, allow
me to present Sir Norman Kingsley."
Sir Norman Kingsley bent almost as profoundly before the lady as
the lord high chancellor had done before Queen Miranda; and the
lady courtesied, in return, until her pink-satin skirt ballooned
out all over the floor. It was quite an affecting tableau. And
so Ormiston felt, as he stood eyeing it with preternatural
gravity.
"I owe my life to Sir Norman Kingsley," murmured the faint, sweet
voice of the lady, "and could not rest until I had thanked him.
I have no words to say how deeply thankful and grateful I am."
"Fairest Leoline! one word from such lips would be enough to
repay me, had I done a thousandfold more," responded Norman,
laying his hand on his heart, with another deep genuflection.
"Very pretty indeed!" remarked Ormiston to himself, with a little
approving nod; "but I'm afraid they won't be able to keep it up,
and go on talking on stilts like that, till they have finished.
Perhaps they may get on all the better if I take myself off,
there being always one too many in a case like this." Then
aloud: "Madame, I regret that I am obliged to depart, having a
most particular appointment; but, doubtless, my friend will be
able to express himself without my assistance. I have the honor
to wish you both good-night."
With which neat and appropriate speech, Ormiston bowed himself
out, and was gone before Leoline could detain him, even if she
wished to do so. Probably, however, she thought the care of one
gentleman sufficient responsibility at once; and she did not look
very seriously distressed by his departure; and, the moment he
disappeared, Sir Norman brightened up wonderfully.
It is very discomposing to the feelings to make love