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The Midnight Queen [66]

By Root 2026 0
the glimmer of jewels, the shining of

gold, and the flutter of long, black hair; and then some one came

in. The door was closed; the bolts shot back! - and he was alone

with Miranda, the queen.



There was no trouble about recognising her, for she carried in

her hand a small lamp, which she held up between them, that its

rays might fall directly on both faces. Each was rather white,

perhaps, and one heart was going faster than it had ever gone

before, and that one was decidedly not the queen's. She was

dressed exactly as he had seen her, in purple and ermine, in

jewels and gold; and strangely out of place she looked there, in

her splendid dress and splendid beauty, among the black beetles

and rats. Her face might have been a dead, blank wall, or cut

out of cold, white stone, for all it expressed; and as she

lightly held up her rich robes in one hand, and in the other bore

the light, the dark, shining eyes were fixed on his face, and

were as barren of interest, eagerness, compassion, tenderness, or

any other feeling, as the shining, black glass ones of a wax

doll. So they stood looking at each other for some ten seconds

or so, and then, still looking full at him, Miranda spoke, and

her voice was as clear and emotionless as her eyes



"Well, Sir Norman Kingsley, I have come to see you before you

die."



"Madame," he stammered, scarcely knowing what he said, "you are

kind."



"Am I? Perhaps you forget I signed your death-warrant."



"Probably it would have been at the risk of your own life to

refuse?"



"Nothing of the kind! Not one of them would hurt a hair of my

head if I refused to sign fifty death-warrants! Now, am I kind?"



"Very likely it would have amounted to the same thing in the end

- they would kill me whether you signed it or not; so what does

it matter?"



"You are mistaken! They would not kill you; at least, not

tonight, if I had not signed it. They would have let you live

until their next meeting, which will be this night week; and I

would have incurred neither risk nor danger by refusing."



Sir Norman glanced round the dungeon and shrugged his shoulders.



"I do not know that that prospect is much more inviting than the

present one. Even death is preferable to a week's imprisonment

in a place like this."



"But in the meantime you might have escaped."



"Madame, look at this stone floor, that stone roof, these solid

walls, that barred and massive door; reflect that I am some forty

feet under ground - cannot perform impossibilities, and then ask

yourself how?"



"Sir Norman, have you ever heard of good fairies visiting brave

knights and setting them free?"



Sir Norman smiled.



"I am afraid the good fairies and brave knights went the way of

all flesh with King Arthur's round table; and even if they were

in existence, none of them would take the trouble to limp down so

far to save such an unlucky dog as I."



"Then you forgive me for what I have done?"



"Your majesty, I have nothing to forgive."



"Bah!" she said, scornfully. "Do not mock me here. My majesty,

forsooth! you have but fifteen minutes to live in this world, Sir

Norman; and if you have no better way of spending them, I will

tell you a strange story - my own, and all about this place."



"Madame, there is nothing in the world I would like so much to

hear."



"You shall hear it, then, and it may beguile the last slow

moments of time before you go out into eternity."



She set her lamp down on the floor among the rats and beetles,

and stood watching the small, red flame a moment with a gloomy,

downcast eye; and Sir Norman, gazing on the beautiful darkening

face, so like and yet so unlike Leoline, stood eagerly awaiting

what was to come.



________________





Meantime, the half-hour sped. In the crimson court the last

trial was over, and Lady Castlemaine,
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