Books: The Midnight Queen
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May Agnes Fleming >> The Midnight Queen
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"Leoline, beware of Count L'Estrange, and become Lady Kingsley as
soon as you can."
"I will bear that name to-morrow!" thought Leoline, with a glad
little thrill at her heart, as La Masque flitted out into the
moonlight.
Leoline closed and locked the door, driving the bolts into their
sockets, and making all secure. "I defy any one to get in again
tonight!" she said, smiling at her own dexterity; and lamp in
hand, she ran lightly up stairs to read the long unsolved riddle.
So eager was she, that she had crossed the room, laid the lamp on
the table, and sat down before it, ere she became aware that she
was not alone. Some one was leaning against the mantel, his arm
on it, and his eyes do her, gazing with an air of incomparable
coolness and ease. It was a man this time - something more than
a man,- a count, and Count L'Estrange, at that!
Leoline sprang to her feet with a wild scream, a cry full of
terror, amaze, and superstitious dread; and the count raised his
band with a self-possessed smile.
"Pardon, fair Leoline, if I intrude! But have I not a right to
come at all hours and visit my bride?"
"Leoline is no bride of yours!" retorted that young lady,
passionately, her indignation overpowering both fear and
surprise. "And, what is more, never will be! Now, sir!"
"So my little bird of paradise can fire up, I see! As to your
being my bride, that remains to be seen. You promised to be
tonight, you know!"
"Then I'll recall that promise. I have changed my mind."
"Well, that's not very astonishing; it is but the privilege of
your sex! Nevertheless, I'm afraid I must insist on your
becoming Countess L'Estrange, and that immediately!"
"Never, sir! I will die first!"
"Oh, no! We could not spare such a bright little beauty out of
this ugly world! You will live, and live for me!"
"Sir!" cried Leoline, white with passion, and her black eyes
blazing with a fire that would have killed him, could fiery
glances slay! I do not know how you have entered here; but I do
know, if you are a gentleman, you will leave me instantly! Go
sir! I never wish to see you again!"
"But when I wish to see you so much, my darling Leoline," said
the count, with provoking indifference, "what does a little
reluctance on your part signify? Get your hood and mantle, my
love - my horse awaits us without - and let us fly where neither
plague nor mortal man will interrupt our nuptials!"
"Will no one take this man away?" she cried, looking helplessly
round, and wringing her hands.
"Certainly not, my dear - not even Sir Norman Kingsley! George,
I am afraid this pretty little vixen will not go peaceably; you
had better come in!"
With a smile on his face, he took a step toward her. Shrieking
wildly, she darted across the room, and made for the door, just
as somebody else was entering it. The next instant, a shawl was
thrown over her head, her cries smothered in it, and she was
lifted in a pair of strong arms, carried down stairs, and out
into the night.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE THIRD VISION.
Presentments are strange things. From the first moment Sir
Norman entered the city, and his thoughts had been able to leave
Miranda and find themselves wholly on Leoline, a heavy foreboding
of evil to her had oppressed him. Some danger, he was sure, had
befallen her during his absence - how could it be otherwise with
the Earl of Rochester and Count L'Estrange both on her track?
Perhaps, by this time, one or other had found her, and alone and
unaided she had been an easy victim, and was now borne beyond his
reach forever. The thought goaded him and his horse almost to
distraction; for the moment it struck him, he struck spurs into
his horse, making that unoffending animal jump spasmodically,
like one of those prancing steeds Miss Bonheur is fond of
depicting. Through the streets he flew at a frantic rate, growing
more excited and full of apprehension the nearer he came to old
London Bridge; and calling himself a select litany of hard names
inwardly, for having left the dear little thing at all.
"If I find her safe and well," thought Sir Norman, emphatically,
"nothing short of an earthquake or dying of the plague will ever
induce me to leave her again, until she is Lady Kingsley, and in
the old manor of Devonshire. What a fool, idiot, and ninny I
must have been, to have left her as I did, knowing those two
sleuth-hounds were in full chase! What are all the Mirandas and
midnight queens to me, if Leoline is lost?"
That last question was addressed to the elements in general; and
as they disdained reply, he cantered on furiously, till the old
house by the river was reached. It was the third time that night
he had paused to contemplate it, and each time with very
different feelings; first, from simple curiosity; second, in an
ecstasy of delight, and third and last, in an agony of
apprehension. All around was peaceful and still; moon and stars
sailed serenely through a sky of silver and snow; a faint cool
breeze floated up from the river and fanned his hot and fevered
forehead; the whole city lay wrapped in stillness as profound and
deathlike as the fabled one of the marble prince in the Eastern
tale-nothing living moved abroad, but the lonely night-guard
keeping their dreary vigils before the plague-stricken houses,
and the ever-present, ever-busy pest-cart, with its mournful bell
and dreadful cry.
As far as Sir Norman could see, no other human being but himself
and the solitary watchman, so often mentioned, were visible.
Even he could scarcely be said to be present; for, though leaning
against the house with his halberd on his shoulder, he was sound
asleep at his post, and far away in the land of dreams. It was
the second night of his watch; and with a good conscience and a
sound digestion, there is no earthly anguish short of the
toothache, strong enough to keep a man awake two nights in
succession. So sound were his balmy slumbers in his airy
chamber, that not even the loud clatter of Sir Norman's horse's
hoofs proved strong enough to arouse him; and that young
gentleman, after glancing at him, made ap his mind to try to find
out for himself before arousing him to seek information.
Securing his home, he looked up at the house with wistful eyes,
and saw that the solitary light still burned in her chamber. It
struck him now how very imprudent it was to keep that lamp
burning; for if Count L'Estrange saw it, it was all up with
Leoline - and there was even more to be dreaded from him than
from the earl. How was he to find out whether that illuminated
chamber had a tenant or not? Certainly, standing there staring
till doomsday would not do it; and there seemed but two ways,
that of entering the house at once or arousing the man. But the
man was sleeping so soundly that it seemed a pity to awake him
for a trifle; and, after all, there could be no great harm or
indiscretion in his entering to see if his bride was safe.
Probably Leoline was asleep, and would know nothing about it; or,
even were she wide awake, and watchful, she was altogether too
sensible a girl to be displeased at his anxiety about her. If
she were still awake, and waiting for day-dawn, he resolved to
remain with her and keep her from feeling lonesome until that
time came - if she were asleep, he would steal out softly again,
and keep guard at her door until morning.
Full of these praiseworthy resolutions, he tried the handle of
the door, half expecting to find it locked, and himself obliged
to effect an entrance through the window; but no, it yielded to
his touch, and he went in. Hall and staircase were intensely
dark, but he knew his way without a pilot this time, and steered
clear of all shoals and quicksands, through the hall and up the
stairs.
The door of the lighted room - Leoline's room - lay wide open,
and he paused on the threshold to reconnoitre. He had gone
softly for fear of startling her, and now, with the same tender
caution, he glanced round the room. The lamp burned on the
dainty dressing table, where undisturbed lay jewels, perfume
bottles and other knickknacks. The cithern lay unmolested on the
couch, the rich curtains were drawn; everything was as he had
left it last - everything, but the pretty pink figure, with
drooping eyes, and pearls in the waves of her rich, black hair.
He looked round for the things she had worn, hoping she had taken
them off and retired to rest, but they were not to be seen; and
with a cold sinking of the heart, he went noiselessly across the
room, and to the bed. It was empty, and showed no trace of
having been otherwise since he and the pest-cart driver had borne
from it the apparently lifeless form of Leoline.
Yes, she was gone; and Sir Norman turned for a moment so sick
with utter dread, that he leaned against one of the tall carved
posts, and hated himself for having left her with a heartlessness
that his worst enemy could not have surpassed. Then aroused into
new and spasmodic energy by the exigency of the case, he seized
the lamp, and going out to the hall, made the house ring from
basement to attic with her name. No reply, but that hollow,
melancholy echo that sounds so lugubriously through empty houses,
was returned; and he jumped down stairs with an impetuous rush,
flinging back every door in the hall below with a crash, and
flying wildly from room to room. In solemn grim repose they lay;
but none of them held the bright figure in rose-satin he sought.
And he left them in despair, and went back to her chamber again.
"Leoline! Leoline! Leoline!" he called, while he rushed
impetuously ap stairs, and down stairs, and in my lady's chamber;
but Leoline answered not - perhaps never would answer more! Even
"hoping against hope," he had to give up the chase at last - no
Leoline did that house hold; and with this conviction
despairingly impressed on leis mind, Sir Norman Kingsley covered
his face with his hands, and uttered a dismal groan.
Yet, forlorn as was the case, he groaned but once, "only that and
nothing more;" there was no time for such small luxuries as
groaning and tearing his hair, and boiling over with wrath and
vengeance against the human race generally, and those two
diabolical specimens of it, the Earl of Rochester and Count
L'Estrange, particularly. He plunged head foremost down stairs,
and out of the door. There he was impetuously brought up all
standing; for somebody stood before it, gazing up at the gloomy
front with as much earnestness as he had done himself, and
against this individual he rushed recklessly with a shock that
nearly sent the pair of them over into the street.
"Sacr-r-re!" cried a shrill voice, in tones of indignant
remonstrance. "What do you mean, monsieur? Are you drunk, or
crazy, that you come running head foremost into peaceable
citizens, and throwing them heels uppermost on the king's
highway! Stand off, sir! And think yourself lucky that I don't
run you through with my dirk for such an insult!"
At the first sound of the outraged treble tones, Sir Norman had
started back and glared upon the speaker with much the same
expression of countenance as an incensed tiger. The orator of
the spirited address had stooped to pick up his plumed cap, and
recover his centre of gravity, which was considerably knocked out
of place by the unexpected collision, and held forth with very
flashing eyes, and altogether too angry to recognize his auditor.
Sir Norman waited until he had done, and then springing at him,
grabbed him by the collar.
"You young hound!" he exclaimed, fairly lifting him off his feet
with one hand, and shaking him as if he would have wriggled him
out of hose and doublet. "You infernal young jackanapes! I'll
run you through in less than two minutes, if you don't tell me
where you have taken her."
The astonishment, not to say consternation, of Master Hubert for
that small young gentleman and no other it was - on thus having
his ideas thus shaken out of him, was unbounded, and held him
perfectly speechless, while Sir Norman glared at him and shook
him in a way that would have instantaneously killed him if his
looks were lightning. The boy had recognized his aggressor, and
after his first galvanic shock, struggled like a little hero to
free himself, and at last succeeded by an artful spring.
"Sir Norman Kingsley," he cried, keeping a safe yard or two of
pavement between him and that infuriated young knight, "have you
gone mad, or what, is Heaven's name, is the moaning of all this?"
"It means," exclaimed Sir Norman, drawing his sword, and
flourishing it within an inch of the boy's curly head, - that
you'll be a dead page in lees than half a minute, unless you tell
me immediately where she has been taken to."
"Where who has been taken to?" inquired Hubert, opening his
bright and indignant black eyes in a way that reminded Sir Norman
forcibly of Leoline. "Pardon, monsieur, I don't understand at
all."
"You young villain! Do you mean to stand up there and tell me to
my face that you have not searched for her, and found her, and
have carried her off?"
"Why, do you mean the lady we were talking of, that was saved
from the river?" asked Hubert, a new light dawning upon him.
"Do I mean the lady we were talking of?" repeated Sir Norman,
with another furious flourish of his sword. "Yes, I do mean the
lady we were talking of; and what's more - I mean to pin you
where you stand, against that wall, unless you tell me,
instantly, where she has been taken."
"Monsieur!" exclaimed the boy, raising his hands with an
earnestness there was no mistaking, "I do assure you, upon my
honor, that I know nothing of the lady whatever; that I have not
found her; that I have never set eyes on her since the earl saved
her from the river."
The earnest tone of truth would, in itself, almost have convinced
Sir Norman, but it was not that, that made him drop his sword so
suddenly. The pale, startled face; the dark, solemn eyes, were
so exactly like Leoline's, that they thrilled him through and
through, and almost made him believe, for a moment, he was
talking to Leoline herself.
"Are you - are you sure you are not Leoline?" he inquired, almost
convinced, for an instant, by the marvelous resemblance, that it
was really so.
"I? Positively, Sir Norman, I cannot understand this at all,
unless you wish to enjoy yourself at my expense."
"Look here, Master Hubert!" said Sir Norman with a sudden change
of look and tone. "If you do not understand, I shall just tell
you in a word or two how matters are, and then let me hear you
clear yourself. You know the lady we were talking about, that
Lord Rochester picked up afloat, and sent you in search of?"
"Yes - yes."
"Well," went on Sir Norman, with a sort of grim stoicism. "After
leaving you, I started on a little expedition of my own, two
miles from the city, from which expedition I returned ten minutes
ago. When I left, the lady was secure and safe in this house;
when I came back, she was gone. You were in search of her - had
told me yourself you were determined on finding her, and having
her carried off; and now, my youthful friend, put this and that
together," with a momentary returning glare, "and see what it
amounts to!"
"It amounts to this:" retorted his youthful friend, stoutly,
"that I know nothing whatever about it. You may make out a case
of strong circumstantial evidence against me; but if the lady has
been carried off, I have had no hand in it."
Again Sir Norman was staggered by the frank, bold gaze and
truthful voice, but still the string was in a tangle somewhere.
"And where have you been ever since?" he began severely, and with
the air of a lawyer about to go into a rigid cross-examination.
"Searching for her," was the prompt reply.
"Where?"
"Through the streets; in the pest-houses, and at the plague-pit."
"How did you find out she lived here?"
"I did not find it out. When I became convinced she was in none
of the places I have mentioned, I gave up the search in despair,
for to-night, and was returning to his lordship to report my ill
success."
"Why, then, were you standing in front of her house, gaping at it
with all the eyes in your head, as if it were the eighth wonder
of the world?"
"Monsieur has not the most courteous way of asking questions,
that I ever heard of; but I have no particular objection to
answer him. It struck me that, as Mr. Ormiston brought the lady
up this way, and as I saw you and he haunting this place so much
to-night, I thought her residence was somewhere here, and I
paused to look at the house as I went along. In fact, I intended
to ask old sleepy-head, over there, for further particulars,
before I left the neighborhood, had not you, Sir Norman, run bolt
into me, and knocked every idea clean out of my head."
"And you are sure you are not Leoline?" said Sir Norman,
suspiciously.
"To the best of my belief, Sir Norman, I am not," replied Hubert,
reflectively.
"Well, it is all very strange, and very aggravating," said Sir
Norman, sighing, and sheathing his sword. "She is gone, at all
events; no doubt about that - and if you have not carried her
off, somebody else has."
"Perhaps she has gone herself," insinuated Hubert.
"Bah! Gone herself!" said Sir Norman, scornfully. "The idea is
beneath contempt: I tell you, Master Fine-feathers, the lady and
I were to be married bright and early to-morrow morning, and
leave this disgusting city for Devonshire. Do you suppose, then,
she would run out in the small hours of the morning, and go
prancing about the streets, or eloping with herself?"
"Why, of course, Sir Norman, I can't take it upon myself to
answer positively; but, to use the mildest phrase, I must say the
lady seems decidedly eccentric, and capable of doing very queer
things. I hope, however, you believe me; for I earnestly assure
you, I never laid eyes on her but that once."
"I believe you," said Sir Norman, with another profound and
broken-hearted sigh, "and I'm only too sure she has been abducted
by that consummate scoundrel and treacherous villain, Count
L'Estrange."
"Count who?" said Hubert, with a quick start, and a look of
intense curiosity. "What was the name?"
"L'Estrange - a scoundrel of the deepest dye! Perhaps you know
him?"
"No," replied Hubert, with a queer, half musing smile, "no; but I
have a notion I have heard the name. Was he a rival of yours?"
"I should think so! He was to have been married to the lady this
very night!"
"He was, eh! And what prevented the ceremony?"
"She took the plague!" said Sir Norman, strange to say, not at
all offended at the boy's familiarity. "And would have been
thrown into the plague-pit but for me. And when she recovered
she accepted me and cast him off!"
"A quick exchange! The lady's heart must be most flexible, or
unusually large, to be able to hold so many at once."
"It never held him!" said Sir Norman, frowning; "she was forced
into the marriage by her mercenary friends. Oh! if I had him
here, wouldn't I make him wish the highwaymen had shot him
through the head, and done for him, before I would let him go!"
"What is he like - this Count L'Estrange?" said Hubert,
carelessly.
"Like the black-hearted traitor and villain he is!" replied Sir
Norman, with more energy than truth; for he had caught but
passing glimpses of the count's features, and those showed him
they were decidedly prepossessing; "and he slinks along like a
coward and an abductor as he is, in a slouched hat and shadowy
cloak. Oh! if I had him here!" repeated Sir Norman, with
vivacity; "wouldn't I - "
"Yes, of course you would," interposed Hubert, "and serve him
right, too! Have you made any inquiries about the matter - for
instance, of our friend sleeping the sleep of the just, across
there?"
"No - why?"
"Why, it seems to me, if she's been carried off before he fell
asleep, he has probably heard or seen something of it; and I
think it would not be a bad plan to step over and inquire."
"Well, we can try," said Sir Norman, with a despairing face; "but
I know it will end in disappointment and vexation of spirit, like
all the rest!"
With which dismal view of things, he crossed the street side by
side with his jaunty young friend. The watchman was still
enjoying the balmy, and snoring in short, sharp snorts, when
Master Hubert remorselessly caught him by the shoulder, and began
a series of shakes and pokes, and digs, and "hallos!" while Sir
Norman stood near and contemplated the scene with a pensive eye.
At last while undergoing a severe course of this treatment the
watchman was induced to open his eyes on this mortal life, and
transfix the two beholders with, an intensely vacant and blank
share.
"Hey?" he inquired, helplessly. "What was you a saying of,
gentlemen? What is it?"
"We weren't a saying of anything as yet," returned Hubert; "but
we mean to, shortly. Are you quite sure you are wide awake?"
"What do you want?" was the cross question, given by way of
answer. "What do you come bothering me for at such a rate, all
night, I want to know?"
"Keep civil, friend, we wear swords," said Hubert, touching, with
dignity, the hilt of the little dagger he carried; "we only want
to ask you a few questions. First, do you see that house over
yonder?"
"Oh! I see it!" said the man gruffly; "I am not blind!"
"Well who was the last person you saw come out of that house?"
"I don't know who they was!" still more gruffly. "I ain't got
the pleasure of their acquaintance!"
"Did you see a young lady come out of it lately?"
"Did I see a young lady?" burst out the watchman, in a high key
of aggrieved expostulation. "How many more times this blessed
night am I to be asked about that young lady. First and
foremost, there comes two young men, which this here is one of
them, and they bring out the young lady and have her hauled away
in the dead-cart; then comes along another and wants to know all
the particulars, and by the time he gets properly away, somebody
else comes and brings her back like a drowned rat. Then all
sorts of people goes in and out, and I get tired looking at them,
and then fall asleep, and before I've been in that condition
about a minute, you two come punching me and waken me up to ask
questions about her! I wish that young lady was in Jerico - I
do!" said the watchman, with a smothered growl.
"Come, come, my man!" said Hubert, slapping him soothingly on the
shoulder. "Don't be savage, if you can help it! This gentleman
has a gold coin in some of his pockets, I believe, and it will
fall to you if you keep quiet and answer decently. Tell me how
many have been in that house since the young lady was brought
back like a drowned rat?"
"How many?" said the man, meditating, with his eyes fixed on Sir
Norman's garments, and he, perceiving that, immediately gave him
the promised coin to refresh his memory, which it did with
amazing quickness. "How many - oh - let me see; there was the
young man that brought her in, and left her there, and came out
again, and went away. By-and-by, he came back 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.
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