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The Midnight Queen [77]

By Root 1964 0
Nor man of Miranda had he

seen it. "I scarcely expected the honor of any more visits,

particularly from strangers to-night."



"Civil, that! Will you ask me to sit down, or am I to consider

myself an unseasonable intruder, and depart?"



"Madame, will you do me the honor to be seated. The hour, as you

say, is somewhat unseasonable, and you will oblige me by letting

me know to what I am indebted for the pleasure of this visit, as

quickly as possible."



There was something quite dignified about Mistress Leoline as she

swept rustling past La Masque, sank into the pillowy depths of

her lounge, and motioned her visitor to a seat with a slight and

graceful wave of her hand. Not but that in her secret heart she

was a good deal frightened, for something under her pink satin

corsage was going pit-a-pat at a wonderful rate; but she thought

that betraying such a feeling would not be the thing. Perhaps

the tall, dark figure saw it, and smiled behind her mask; but

outwardly she only leaned lightly against the back of the chair,

and glanced discreetly at the door.



"Are you sure we are quite alone?"



"Quite:"



"Because," said La Masque, in her low, silvery tones, "what I

have come to say is not for the ears of any third person living:"



"We are entirely alone, madame," replied Leoline, opening her

black eyes very wide. "Prudence is gone, and I do not know when

she will be back."



"Prudence will never come back," said La Masque, quietly.



"Madame!"



"My dear, do not look so shocked - it is not her fault. You know

she deserted you for fear of the plague."



"Yes, yes!"



"Well, that did not save her; nay, it even brought on what she

dreaded so much. Your nurse is plague-stricken, my dear, and

lies ill unto death in the pesthouse in Finsbury Fields."



"Oh, dreadful!" exclaimed Leoline, while every drop of blood fled

from her face. "My poor, poor old nurse!"



"Your poor, poor old nurse left you without much tenderness when

she thought you dying of the same disease," said La Masque,

quietly.



"Oh, that is nothing. The suddenness, the shock drove her to it.

My poor, dear Prudence."



"Well, you can do nothing for her now," said La Masque, in a tone

of slight impatience. "Prudence is beyond all human aid, and so

- let her rest in peace. You were carried to the plague-pit

yourself, for dead, were you not?"



"Yes," answered the pale lips, while she shivered all over at the

recollection.



"And was saved by - by whom were you saved, my dear?"



"By two gentlemen."



"Oh, I know that; what were their names?"



"One was Mr. Ormiston, the other was," hesitating and blushing

vividly, "Sir Norman Kingsley."



La Masque leaned across her chair, and laid one dainty finger

lightly on the girl's hot cheek.



"And for which is that blush, Leoline?"



"Madame, was it only to ask me questions you came here?" said

Leoline, drawing proudly back, though the hot red spot grew

hotter and redder; "if so, you will excuse my declining to answer

any more."



"Child, child!" said La Masque, in a tone so strangely sad that

it touched Leoline, "do not be angry with me. It is no idle

curiosity that sent me here at this hour to ask impertinent

questions, but a claim that I have upon you, stronger than that

of any one else in the world."



Leoline's beautiful eyes opened wider yet.,



"A claim upon me! How? Why? I do not understand."



"All in good time. Will you tell me something of your past

history, Leoline?"



"Madame Masque, I have no history to tell. All my life I have

lived alone with Prudence; that in the whole of it in nine

words."



La Masque half laughed.



"Short, sharp, and decisive. Had you never father or mother?"



There is a slight probability I may have had at some past

period," said Leoline, sighing; "but none that I ever knew."



"Why
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