The Midnight Queen [49]
of water, an
if the very floodgates of heaven had opened for a second deluge.
No one ever remembered to have seen such torrents fall, and the
populace fled before it in wildest dismay. In five minutes,
every fire, from one extremity of London to the other, was
quenched in the very blackness of darkness, and on that night the
deepest gloom and terror reigned throughout the city. It was
clear the hand of an avenging Deity was in this, and He who had
rained down fire on Sodom and Gomorrah had not lost His might.
In fifteen minutes the terrific flood was over; the dismal clouds
cleared away, a pale, fair, silver moon shone serenely out, and
looked down on the black, charred heaps of ashes strewn through
the streets of London. One by one, the stars that all night had
been obscured, glanced and sparkled over the sky, and lit up with
their soft, pale light the doomed and stricken town. Everybody
had quitted the dome in terror and consternation; and now Sir
Norman, who had been lost in awe, suddenly bethought him of his
ride to the ruin, and hastened to follow their example. Walking
rapidly, not to say recklessly, along, he abruptly knocked
against some one sauntering leisurely before him, and nearly
pitched headlong on the pavement. Recovering his centre of
gravity by a violent effort, he turned to see the cause of the
collision, and found himself accosted by a musical and
foreign-accented voice.
"Pardon," paid the sweet, and rather feminine tones; "it was
quite an accident, I assure you, monsieur. I had no idea I was
in anybody's way."
Sir Norman looked at the voice, or rather in the direction whence
it came, and found it proceeded from a lad in gay livery, whose
clear, colorless face, dark eyes, end exquisite features were by
no means unknown. The boy seemed to recognize him at the same
moment, and slightly touched his gay cap.
"Ah! it is Sir Norman Kingsley! Just the very person, but one,
in the world that I wanted most to see."
"Indeed! And, pray, whom have I the honor of addressing?"
inquired Sir Norman, deeply edified by the cool familiarity of
the accoster.
"They call me Hubert - for want of a better name, I suppose,"
said the lad, easily. "And may I ask, Sir Norman, if you are
shod with seven-leagued boots, or if your errand is one of life
and death, that you stride along at such a terrific rate?"
"And what is that to you?" asked Sir Norman, indignant at his
free-and-easy impudence.
"Nothing; only I should like to keep up with you, if my legs were
long enough; and as they're not, and as company is not easily to
be had in these forlorn streets, I should feel obliged to you if
you would just slacken your pace a trifle, and take me in tow."
The boy's face in the moonlight, in everything but expression,
was exactly that of Leoline, to which softening circumstance may
be attributed Sir Norman's yielding to the request, and allowing
the page to keep along side.
"I've met you once before to-night?" inquired Sir Norman, after a
prolonged and wondering stare at him.
"Yes; I have a faint recollection of seeing you and Mr. Ormiston
on London Bridge, a few hours ago, and, by the way, perhaps I may
mention I am now in search of that same Mr. Ormiston."
"You are! And what may you want of him, pray?"
"Just a little information of a private character - perhaps you
can direct me to his whereabouts."
"Should be happy to oblige you, my dear boy, but, unfortunately,
I cannot. I want to see him myself, if I could find any one good
enough to direct me to him. Is your business pressing?"
"Very - there is a lady in the case; and such business, you are
aware, is always pressing. Probably you have heard of her - a
youthful angel, in virgin white, who took a notion to jump into
the Thames, not a great while ago."
"Ah!" said Sir Norman, with a start that did not escape the quick
if the very floodgates of heaven had opened for a second deluge.
No one ever remembered to have seen such torrents fall, and the
populace fled before it in wildest dismay. In five minutes,
every fire, from one extremity of London to the other, was
quenched in the very blackness of darkness, and on that night the
deepest gloom and terror reigned throughout the city. It was
clear the hand of an avenging Deity was in this, and He who had
rained down fire on Sodom and Gomorrah had not lost His might.
In fifteen minutes the terrific flood was over; the dismal clouds
cleared away, a pale, fair, silver moon shone serenely out, and
looked down on the black, charred heaps of ashes strewn through
the streets of London. One by one, the stars that all night had
been obscured, glanced and sparkled over the sky, and lit up with
their soft, pale light the doomed and stricken town. Everybody
had quitted the dome in terror and consternation; and now Sir
Norman, who had been lost in awe, suddenly bethought him of his
ride to the ruin, and hastened to follow their example. Walking
rapidly, not to say recklessly, along, he abruptly knocked
against some one sauntering leisurely before him, and nearly
pitched headlong on the pavement. Recovering his centre of
gravity by a violent effort, he turned to see the cause of the
collision, and found himself accosted by a musical and
foreign-accented voice.
"Pardon," paid the sweet, and rather feminine tones; "it was
quite an accident, I assure you, monsieur. I had no idea I was
in anybody's way."
Sir Norman looked at the voice, or rather in the direction whence
it came, and found it proceeded from a lad in gay livery, whose
clear, colorless face, dark eyes, end exquisite features were by
no means unknown. The boy seemed to recognize him at the same
moment, and slightly touched his gay cap.
"Ah! it is Sir Norman Kingsley! Just the very person, but one,
in the world that I wanted most to see."
"Indeed! And, pray, whom have I the honor of addressing?"
inquired Sir Norman, deeply edified by the cool familiarity of
the accoster.
"They call me Hubert - for want of a better name, I suppose,"
said the lad, easily. "And may I ask, Sir Norman, if you are
shod with seven-leagued boots, or if your errand is one of life
and death, that you stride along at such a terrific rate?"
"And what is that to you?" asked Sir Norman, indignant at his
free-and-easy impudence.
"Nothing; only I should like to keep up with you, if my legs were
long enough; and as they're not, and as company is not easily to
be had in these forlorn streets, I should feel obliged to you if
you would just slacken your pace a trifle, and take me in tow."
The boy's face in the moonlight, in everything but expression,
was exactly that of Leoline, to which softening circumstance may
be attributed Sir Norman's yielding to the request, and allowing
the page to keep along side.
"I've met you once before to-night?" inquired Sir Norman, after a
prolonged and wondering stare at him.
"Yes; I have a faint recollection of seeing you and Mr. Ormiston
on London Bridge, a few hours ago, and, by the way, perhaps I may
mention I am now in search of that same Mr. Ormiston."
"You are! And what may you want of him, pray?"
"Just a little information of a private character - perhaps you
can direct me to his whereabouts."
"Should be happy to oblige you, my dear boy, but, unfortunately,
I cannot. I want to see him myself, if I could find any one good
enough to direct me to him. Is your business pressing?"
"Very - there is a lady in the case; and such business, you are
aware, is always pressing. Probably you have heard of her - a
youthful angel, in virgin white, who took a notion to jump into
the Thames, not a great while ago."
"Ah!" said Sir Norman, with a start that did not escape the quick