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The Midnight Queen [95]

By Root 1960 0
sprang lightly into

the room, and standing with his back to her, re-closed the

shutters, re-shut the window, and re-drew the curtains, before

taking the trouble to turn round.



This discreet little manoeuvre, which showed her visitor was

human, and gifted with human prudence, re-assured Leoline a

little; and, to judge by the reverse of the medal, the nocturnal

intruder was nothing very formidable after all. But the stranger

did not keep her long in suspense; while she stood gazing at him,

as if fascinated, he turned round, stepped forward, took off his

cap, made her a courtly bow, and then straightening himself up,

prepared, with great coolness, to scrutinize and be scrutinized.



Well might they look at each other; for the two faces were

perfectly the same, and each one saw himself and herself as

others saw them. There was the same coal-black, curling hair;

the same lustrous dark eyes; the same clear, colorless

complexion, the same delicate, perfect features; nothing was

different but the costume and the expression. That latter was

essentially different, for the young lady's betrayed amazement,

terror, doubt, and delight all at once; while the young

gentleman's was a grand, careless surprise, mixed with just a

dash of curiosity.



He was the first to speak; and after they had stared at each

other for the space of five minutes, he described a graceful

sweep with his hand, and held forth in the following strain



"I greatly fear, fair Leoline, that I have startled you by my

sudden and surprising entrance; and if I have been the cause of a

moment's alarm to one so perfectly beautiful, I shall hate myself

for ever after. If I could have got in any other way, rest

assured I would not have risked my neck and your peace of mind by

such a suspicious means of ingress as the window; but if you will

take the trouble to notice, the door is thick, and I am composed

of too solid flesh to whisk through the keyhole; so I had to make

my appearance the best way I could."



"Who are you?" faintly asked Leoline.



"Your friend, fair lady, and Sir Norman Kingsley's."



Hubert looked to see Leoline start and blush, and was deeply

gratified to see her do both; and her whole pretty countenance

became alive with new-born hope, as if that name were a magic

talisman of freedom and joy.



"What is your name, and who are you?" she inquired, in a

breathless sort of way, that made Hubert look at her a moment in

calm astonishment.



"I have told you your friend; christened at some remote period,

Hubert. For further particulars, apply to the Earl of Rochester,

whose page I am."



"The Earl of Rochester's page!" she repeated, in the same quick,

excited way, that surprised and rather lowered her in that good

youth's opinion, for giving way to any feelings so plebeian. "It

is - it must be the same!"



"I have no doubt of it," said Hubert. "The same what?"



"Did you not come from France - from Dijon, recently?" went on

Leoline, rather inappositely, as it struck her hearer.



"Certainly I came from Dijon. Had I the honor of being known to

you there?"



"How strange! How wonderful!" said Leoline, with a paling cheek

and quickened breathing. "How mysterious those things turn out I

Thank Heaven that I have found some one to love at last!"



This speech, which was Greek, algebra, high Dutch, or

thereabouts, to Master Hubert, caused him to stare to such an

extent, that when he came to think of it afterward, positively

shocked him. The two great, wondering dark eyes transfixing her

with so much amazement, brought Leoline to a sense of her talking

unfathomable mysteries, quite incomprehensible to her handsome

auditor. She looked at him with a smile, held out her hand; and

Hubert received a strange little electric thrill, to see that her

eyes were full of tears. He took the hand and raised it to his

lips, wondering if the
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