The Midnight Queen [97]
not know that this is a very dreadful place; and most
people consider it a sufficiently respectable house; but, still,
I would rather see my sister anywhere else than in it, and will
take the trouble of kidnapping her out of it as quickly as
possible."
"But, Hubert, tell me - do tell me, who is Count L'Estrange?"
Hubert laughed.
"Cannot, really, Leoline! at least, not until to-morrow, and you
are Lady Kingsley."
"But, what if he should come here to-night?"
"I do not think there is much danger of that, but whether he does
or not, rest assured you shall be free to-morrow! At all events,
it is quite impossible for you to escape with me now; and even as
it is, I run the risk of being detected, and made a prisoner,
myself. You must be patient and wait, Leoline, and trust to
Providence and your brother Hubert!"
"I must, I suppose!" said Leoline, sighing, "and you cannot take
me away until day-dawn."
"Quite impossible; and then all this drapery of yours will be
ever so much in the way. Would you object to garments like
these?" pointing to his doublet and hose. "If you would not, I
think I could procure you a fit-out."
"But I should, though!" said Leoline, with spirit "and most
decidedly, too! I shall wear nothing of the kind, Sir Page!"
"Every one to her fancy!" said Hubert, with a French shrug, "and
my pretty sister shall have hers in spite of earth, air, fire,
and water! And now, fair Leoline, for a brief time, adieu, and
au revoir !"
"You will not fail me!" exclaimed Leoline, earnestly, clasping
her hands.
"If I do, it shall be the last thing I will fail in on earth; for
if I am alive by to-morrow morning, Leoline shall be free!"
"And you will be careful - you will both be careful!"
"Excessively careful! Now then."
The last two words were addressed to the window which he
noiselessly opened as he spoke. Leoline caught a glimpse of the
bright free moonlight, and watched him with desperate envy; but
the next moment the shutters were closed, and Hubert and the
moonlight were both gone.
CHAPTER XIX
HUBERT'S WHISPER.
Sir Norman Kingsley's consternation and horror on discovering the
dead body of his friend, was only equalled by his amazement as to
how he got there, or how he came to be dead at all. The livid
face, up turned to the moonlight, was unmistakably the face of a
dead man - it was no swoon, no deception, like Leoline's; for the
blue, ghastly paleness that marks the flight of the soul from the
body was stamped on every rigid feature. Yet, Sir Norman could
not realize it. We all know how hard it is to realize the death
of a friend from whom we have but lately parted in full health
and life, and Ormiston's death was so sudden. Why, it was not
quite two hours since they had parted in Leoline's house, and
even the plague could not carry off a victim as quickly as this.
"Ormiston! Ormiston!" he called, between grief and dismay, as he
raised him in his arms, with his hand over the stilled heart; but
Ormiston answered not, and the heart gave no pulsation beneath
his fingers. He tore open his doublet, as the thought of the
plague flashed through his mind, but no plague-spot was to be
seen, and it was quite evident, from the appearance of the face,
that he had not died of the distemper, neither was there any
wound or mark to show that he had met his end violently. Yet the
cold, white face was convulsed, as if he had died in throes of
agony, the hands were clenched, till the nails sank into the
flesh; and that was the only outward sign or token that he had
suffered in expiring.
Sir Norman was completely at a lose, and half beside himself,
with a thousand conflicting feelings of sorrow, astonishment, and
mystification. The rapid and exciting events of the night had
turned his head into a mental chaos, as they very well might, but
people consider it a sufficiently respectable house; but, still,
I would rather see my sister anywhere else than in it, and will
take the trouble of kidnapping her out of it as quickly as
possible."
"But, Hubert, tell me - do tell me, who is Count L'Estrange?"
Hubert laughed.
"Cannot, really, Leoline! at least, not until to-morrow, and you
are Lady Kingsley."
"But, what if he should come here to-night?"
"I do not think there is much danger of that, but whether he does
or not, rest assured you shall be free to-morrow! At all events,
it is quite impossible for you to escape with me now; and even as
it is, I run the risk of being detected, and made a prisoner,
myself. You must be patient and wait, Leoline, and trust to
Providence and your brother Hubert!"
"I must, I suppose!" said Leoline, sighing, "and you cannot take
me away until day-dawn."
"Quite impossible; and then all this drapery of yours will be
ever so much in the way. Would you object to garments like
these?" pointing to his doublet and hose. "If you would not, I
think I could procure you a fit-out."
"But I should, though!" said Leoline, with spirit "and most
decidedly, too! I shall wear nothing of the kind, Sir Page!"
"Every one to her fancy!" said Hubert, with a French shrug, "and
my pretty sister shall have hers in spite of earth, air, fire,
and water! And now, fair Leoline, for a brief time, adieu, and
au revoir !"
"You will not fail me!" exclaimed Leoline, earnestly, clasping
her hands.
"If I do, it shall be the last thing I will fail in on earth; for
if I am alive by to-morrow morning, Leoline shall be free!"
"And you will be careful - you will both be careful!"
"Excessively careful! Now then."
The last two words were addressed to the window which he
noiselessly opened as he spoke. Leoline caught a glimpse of the
bright free moonlight, and watched him with desperate envy; but
the next moment the shutters were closed, and Hubert and the
moonlight were both gone.
CHAPTER XIX
HUBERT'S WHISPER.
Sir Norman Kingsley's consternation and horror on discovering the
dead body of his friend, was only equalled by his amazement as to
how he got there, or how he came to be dead at all. The livid
face, up turned to the moonlight, was unmistakably the face of a
dead man - it was no swoon, no deception, like Leoline's; for the
blue, ghastly paleness that marks the flight of the soul from the
body was stamped on every rigid feature. Yet, Sir Norman could
not realize it. We all know how hard it is to realize the death
of a friend from whom we have but lately parted in full health
and life, and Ormiston's death was so sudden. Why, it was not
quite two hours since they had parted in Leoline's house, and
even the plague could not carry off a victim as quickly as this.
"Ormiston! Ormiston!" he called, between grief and dismay, as he
raised him in his arms, with his hand over the stilled heart; but
Ormiston answered not, and the heart gave no pulsation beneath
his fingers. He tore open his doublet, as the thought of the
plague flashed through his mind, but no plague-spot was to be
seen, and it was quite evident, from the appearance of the face,
that he had not died of the distemper, neither was there any
wound or mark to show that he had met his end violently. Yet the
cold, white face was convulsed, as if he had died in throes of
agony, the hands were clenched, till the nails sank into the
flesh; and that was the only outward sign or token that he had
suffered in expiring.
Sir Norman was completely at a lose, and half beside himself,
with a thousand conflicting feelings of sorrow, astonishment, and
mystification. The rapid and exciting events of the night had
turned his head into a mental chaos, as they very well might, but