The Midnight Queen [52]
Turning along a road leading to the pest-house, and laughing as
he went, the boy disappeared. Fearing lest the page should
follow him, and thereby discover a clue to Leoline's abode, Sir
Norman turned into a street some distance from the house, and
waited in the shadow until he was out of sight. Then he came
forth, and, full of impatience to get back to the ruin, hurried
on to where he had left his horse. He was still in the care of
the watchman, whom he repaid for his trouble; and as he sprang on
his back, he glanced up at the windows of Leoline's house. It
was all buried in profound darkness but that one window from
which that faint light streamed, and he knew that she had not yet
gone to rest. For a moment he lingered and looked at it in the
absurd way lovers will look, and was presently rewarded by seeing
what he watched for -
a shadow flit between him and the light. The sight was a strong
temptation to him to dismount and enter, and, under pretence of
warning her against the Earl of Rochester and his "pretty page,"
see her once again. But reflection, stepping rebukingly up to
him, whispered indignantly, that his ladylove was probably by
this time in her night robe, and not at home to lovers; and Sir
Norman respectfully bowed to reflection's superior wisdom. He
thought of Hubert's words,"If I do not find her tonight, I shall
most assuredly to-morrow," and a chill presentiment of coming
evil fell upon him.
"To-morrow," he said, as he turned to go. "Who knows what
to-morrow may bring forth! Fairest and dearest Leoline,
goodnight!"
He rode away in the moonlight, with the stars shining peacefully
down upon him. His heart at the moment was a divided one - one
half being given to Leoline, and the other to the Midnight Queen
and her mysterious court. The farther he went away from Leoline,
the dimmer her star became in the horizon of his thoughts; and
the nearer he came to Miranda, the brighter and more eagerly she
loomed up, until he spurred his horse to a most furious gallop,
lest he should find the castle and the queen lost in the regions
of space when he got there. Once the plague-stricken city lay
behind him, his journey was short; and soon, to his great
delight, he turned into the silent deserted by-path leading to
the ruin.
Tying his horse to a stake in the crumbling wall, he paused for a
moment to look at it in the pale, wan light of the midnight moon.
He had looked at it many a time before, but never with the same
interest as now; and the ruined battlements, the fallen roof, the
broken windows, and mouldering sides, had all a new and weird
interest for him. No one was visible far or near; and feeling
that his horse was secure in the shadow of the wall, he entered,
and walked lightly and rapidly along in the direction of the
spiral staircase. With more haste, but the same precaution, he
descended, and passed through the vaults to where he knew the
loose flag-stone was. It was well he did know; for there was
neither strain of music nor ray of light to guide him now; and
his heart sank to zero as he thought he might raise the stone and
discover nothing. His hand positively trembled with eagerness as
he lifted it; and with unbounded delight, not to be described,
looked down on the same titled assembly he had watched before.
But there had been a change since - half the lights were
extinguished, and the great vaulted room was comparatively in
shadow - the music had entirely died away and all was solemnly
silent. But what puzzled Sir Norman most of all was, the fact
that there seemed to be a trial of acme sort going on.
A long table, covered with green velvet, and looking not unlike a
modern billiard table, stood at the right of the queen's crimson
throne; and behind it, perched in a high chair, and wearing a
long, solemn, black robe, sat a small, thick personage, whose
skin Sir Norman would have