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The Midnight Queen [69]

By Root 1965 0
of ugliness you ever saw or heard of, Sir

Norman Kingsley, do tell me if there ever was one of them half so

repulsive or disgusting as that thing?"



"Really," said Sir Norman, in a subdued tone, "he is not the most

prepossessing little man in the world; but, madame, you do look

and speak in a manner quite dreadful. Do let me prevail on you

to calm yourself, and tell me your story, as you promised."



"Calm myself!" repeated the gentle lady, in a tone half snappish,

half harsh, "do you think I am made of iron, to tell you my story

and be calm? I hate him! I hate him! I would kill him if I

could: and if you, Sir Norman, are half the man I take you to be,

you will rid the world of the horrible monster before morning

dawns!"



"My dear lady, you seem to forget that the case is reversed, and

that he is going to rid the world of me,", said Sir Norman, with

a sigh.



"No, not if you do as I tell you; and when I have told you how

much cause I have to abhor him, you will agree with me that

killing him will be no murder! Oh, if there is One above who

rules this world, and will judge us all, why, why does He permit

such monsters to live?"



"Because He is more merciful than his creatures," replied Sir

Norman, with calm reverence, - though His avenging hand is heavy

on this doomed city. But, madame, time is on the wing, and the

headsman will be here before your story is told."



"Ah, that story! How am I to tell it, I wonder, two words will

comprise it all - sin and misery - misery and sin! For, buried

alive here, as I am - buried alive, as I've always been - I know

what both words mean; they have been branded on heart and brain

in letters of fire. And that horrible monstrosity is the cause

of all - that loathsome, misshapen, hideous abortion has banned

and cursed my whole life! He is my first recollection. As far

back as I can look through the dim eye of childhood's years, that

horrible face, that gnarled and twisted trunk, those devilish

eyes glare at me like the eyes and face of a wild beast. As

memory grows stronger and more vivid, I can see that same face

still - the dwarf! the dwarf! the dwarf! - Satan's true

representative on earth, darkening and blighting ever passing

year. I do not know where we lived, but I imagine it to have

been one of the vilest and lowest dens in London, though the

rooms I occupied were, for that matter, decent and orderly

enough. Those rooms the daylight never entered, the windows were

boarded up within, and fastened by shutters without, so that of

the world beyond I was as ignorant as a child of two hours old.

I saw but two human faces, his" - she seemed to hate him too much

even to pronounce his name - "and his housekeeper's, a creature

almost as vile as himself, and who is now a servant here; and

with this precious pair to guard me I grew up to be fifteen years

old. My outer life consisted of eating, sleeping, reading - for

the wretch taught me to read - playing with my dogs and birds,

and listening to old Margery's stories. But there was an inward

life, fierce and strong, as it was rank and morbid, lived and

brooded over alone, when Margery and her master fancied me

sleeping in idiotic content. How were they to know that the

creature they had reared and made ever had a thought of her own -

ever wondered who she was, where she came from, what she was

destined to be, and what lay in the great world beyond? The

crooked little monster made a great mistake in teaching me to

read, he should have known that books sow seed that grow up and

flourish tall and green, till they become giants in strength. I

knew enough to be certain there was a bright and glad world

without, from which they shut me in and debarred me; and I knew

enough to hate them both for it, with a strong and heartfelt

hatred, only second to what I feel now."



She stopped for a moment, and fixed her dark, gloomy eyes
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