The Midnight Queen by May Agnes Fleming (first e reader TXT) 📕

with another, which I think this as gave me the money is him. After a little, they came out, first the other one, then this one, and went off; and the next that went in was a tall woman in black, with a mask on, and right behind her there came two men; the woman in the mask came out after a while; and about ten minutes after, the two men followed, and one of them carried something in his arms, that didn't look unlike a lady with her head in a shawl. Anything wrong, sir?" as Sir Norman gave a violent start and caught Hubert by the arm.

"Nothing! Where did they carry her to? What did they do with her? Go on! go on!"

"Well," said the watchman, eyeing the speaker curiously, "I'm going to. They went along, down to the river, both of them, and I saw a boat shove off, shortly after, and that something, with its head in a shawl, lying as peaceable as a lamb, with one of the two beside it. That's all--I went asleep about then, till you two were shaking me and waking me up."

Sir Norman and Hubert looked at each other, one between despair and rage, the other with a thoughtful, half-inquiring air, as if he had some secret to tell, and was mentally questioning whether it was safe to do so. On the whole, he seemed to come to the conclusion, that a silent tongue maketh a wise head, and nodding and saying "Thank you!" to the watchman, he passed his arm through Sir Norman's, and drew him back to the door of Leoline's house.

"There is a light within," he said, looking up at it; "how comes that?"

"I found the lamp burning, when I returned, and everything undisturbed. They must have entered noiselessly, and carried her off without a straggle," replied Sir Norman, with a sort of groan.

"Have you searched the house--searched it well?"

"Thoroughly--from top to bottom!"

"It seems to me there ought to be some trace. Will you come back with me and look again?"

"It is no use; but there in nothing else I can do; so come along!"

They entered the house, and Sir Norman led the page direct to Leoline's room, where the light was.

"I left her here when I went away, and here the lamp was burning when I came back: so it must have been from this room she was taken."

Hubert was gazing slowly and critically round, taking note of everything. Something glistened and flashed on the floor, under the mantel, and he went over and picked it up.

"What have you there?" asked Sir Norman in surprise; for the boy had started so suddenly, and flushed so violently, that it might have astonished any one.

"Only a shoe-buckle--a gentleman's--do you recognize it?"

Though he spoke in his usual careless way, and half-hummed the air of one of Lord Rochester's love songs, he watched him keenly as he examined it. It was a diamond buckle, exquisitely set, and of great beauty and value; but Sir Norman knew nothing of it.

"There are initials upon it--see there!" said Hubert, pointing, and still watching him with the same powerful glance. "The letters C. S. That can't stand for Count L'Estrange."

"Who then can it stand for?" inquired Sir Norman, looking at him fixedly, and with far more penetration than the court page had given him credit for. "I am certain you know."

"I suspect!" said the boy, emphatically, "nothing more; and if it is as I believe, I will bring you news of Leoline before you are two hours older." "How am I to know you are not deceiving me, and will not betray her into the power of the Earl of Rochester--if, indeed, she be not in his power already."

"She is not in it, and never will be through me! I feel an odd interest in this matter, and I will be true to you, Sir Norman--though why I should be, I really don't know. I give you my word of honor that I will do what I can to find Leoline and restore her to you; and I have never yet broken my word of honor to any man," said Hubert, drawing himself up.

"Well, I will trust you, because I cannot do anything better," said Sir Norman, rather dolefully; "but why not let me go with you?"

"No, no! that would never do! I must go alone, and you must trust me implicitly. Give me your hand upon it."

They shook hands silently, went down stairs, and stood for a moment at the door.

"You'll find me here at any hour between this and morning," said Sir Norman. "Farewell now, and Heaven speed you!"

The boy waved his hand in adieu, and started off at a sharp pace. Sir Norman turned in the opposite direction for a short walk, to cool the fever in his blood, and think over all that had happened. As he went slowly along, in the shadow of the houses, he suddenly tripped up over something lying in his path, and was nearly precipitated over it.

Stooping down to examine the stumbling-block, it proved to be the rigid body of a man, and that man was Ormiston, stark and dead, with his face upturned to the calm night-sky.


CHAPTER XVII. THE HIDDEN FACE

When Mr. Malcolm Ormiston, with his usual good sense and penetration, took himself off, and left Leoline and Sir Norman tete-a-tete, his steps turned as mechanically as the needle to the North Pole toward La Masque's house. Before it he wandered, around it he wandered, like an uneasy ghost, lost in speculation about the hidden face, and fearfully impatient about the flight of time. If La Masque saw him hovering aloof and unable to tear himself away, perhaps it might touch her obdurate heart, and cause her to shorten the dreary interval, and summon him to her presence at once. Just then some one opened the door, and his heart began to beat with anticipation; some one pronounced his name, and, going over, he saw the animated bag of bones--otherwise his lady-love's vassal and porter.

"La Masque says," began the attenuated lackey, and Ormiston's heart nearly jumped out of his mouth, "that she can't have anybody hanging about her house like its shadow; and she wants you to go away, and keep away, till the time comes she has mentioned."

So saying the skeleton shut the door, and Ormiston's heart went down to zero. There being nothing for it but obedience, however, he slowly and reluctantly turned away, feeling in his bones, that if ever he came to the bliss and ecstasy of calling La Masque Mrs. Ormiston, the gray mare in his stable would be by long odds the better horse. Unintentionally his steps turned to the water-side, and he descended the flight of stairs, determined to get into a boat and watch the illumination from the river.

Late as was the hour, the Thames seemed alive with wherries and barges, and their numerous lights danced along the surface like fire-flies over a marsh. A gay barge, gilded and cushioned, was going slowly past; and as he stood directly under the lamp, he was recognized by a gentleman within it, who leaned over and hailed him,

"Ormiston! I say, Ormiston!"

"Well, my lord," said Ormiston, recognizing the handsome face and animated voice of the Earl of Rochester.

"Have you any engagement for the next half-hour? If not, do me the favor to take a seat here, and watch London in flames from the river."

"With all my heart," said Ormiston, running down to the water's edge, and leaping into the boat. "With all this bustle of life around here, one would think it were noonday instead of midnight."

"The whole city is astir about these fires. Have you any idea they will be successful?"

"Not the least. You know, my lord, the prediction runs, that the plague will rage till the living are no longer able to bury the dead."

"It will soon come to that," said the earl shuddering slightly, "if it continues increasing much longer as it does now daily. How do the bills of mortality ran to-day?"

"I have not heard. Hark! There goes St. Paul's tolling twelve."

"And there goes a flash of fire--the first among many. Look, look! How they spring up into the black darkness."

"They will not do it long. Look at the sky, my lord."

The earl glanced up at the midnight sky, of a dull and dingy red color, except where black and heavy clouds were heaving like angry billows, all dingy with smoke and streaked with bars of fiery red.

"I see! There is a storm coming, and a heavy one! Our worthy burghers and most worshipful Lord Mayor will see their fires extinguished shortly, and themselves sent home with wet jackets."

"And for weeks, almost month, there has not fallen a drop of rain," remarked Ormiston, gravely.

"A remarkable coincidence, truly. There seems to be a fatality hanging over this devoted city."

"I wonder your lordship remains?"

The earl shrugged his shoulders significantly.

"It is not so easy leaving it as you think, Mr. Ormiston; but I am to turn my back to it to-morrow for a brief period. You are aware, I suppose, that the court leaves before daybreak for Oxford."

"I believe I have heard something of it--how long to remain?"

"Till Charles takes it into his head to come back again," said the earl, familiarly, "which will probably be in a week or two. Look at that sky, all black and scarlet; and look at those people--I scarcely thought there were half the number left alive in London."

"Even the sick have come out to-night," said Ormiston. "Half the pest-stricken in the city have left their beds, full of newborn hope. One would think it were a carnival."

"So it is--a carnival of death! I hope, Ormiston," said the earl, looking at him with a light laugh, "the pretty little white fairy we rescued from the river is not one of the sick parading the streets."

Ormiston looked grave.

"No, my lord, I think she is not. I left her safe and secure."

"Who is she, Ormiston?" coaxed the earl, laughingly. "Pshaw, man! don't make a mountain out of a mole-hill! Tell me her name!"

"Her name is Leoline."

"What else?"

"That is just what I would like to have some one tell me. I give you my honor, my lord, I do not know."

The earl's face, half indignant, half incredulous, wholly curious, made Ormiston smile.

"It is a fact, my lord. I asked her her name, and she told me Leoline--a pretty title enough, but rather unsatisfactory."

"How long have you known her?"

"To the best of my belief," said Ormiston, musingly, "about four hours."

"Nonsense!" cried the earl, energetically. "What are you telling me, Ormiston? You said she was an old friend."

"I beg your pardon, my lord, I said no such thing. I told you she had escaped from her friends, which was strictly true."

"Then how the demon had you the impudence to come up and carry her off in that style? I certainly had a better right to her than you--the right of discovery; and I shall call upon you to deliver her up!"

"If she belonged to me I should only be too happy to oblige your lordship," laughed Ormiston; "but she is at present