Books: The Midnight Queen
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May Agnes Fleming >> The Midnight Queen
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"I am afraid your theology is not very sound, my friend, and I
have a dislike to extremes. There is a middle course, between
hating and loving. Suppose I take that?"
"I will have no middle courses - either hating or loving it must
be! Leoline! Leoline!" (bending over her, and imprisoning both
hands this time) "do say you love me!"
"I am captive in your hands, so I must, I suppose. Yes, Sir
Norman, I do love you!"
Every man hearing that for the first time from a pair of loved
lips is privileged to go mad for a brief season, and to go
through certain manoeuvers much more delectable to the enjoyers
than to society at large. For fully ten minutes after Leoline's
last speech, there was profound silence. But actions sometimes
speak louder than words; and Leoline was perfectly convinced that
her declaration had not fallen on insensible ears. At the end of
that period, the space between them on the couch had so greatly
diminished, that the ghost of a zephyr would have been crushed to
death trying to get between them; and Sir Norman's face was
fairly radiant. Leoline herself looked rather beaming; and she
suddenly, and without provocation, burst into a merry little peal
of laughter.
"Well, for two people who were perfect strangers to each other
half an hour ago, I think we have gone on remarkably well. What
will Mr. Ormiston and Prudence say, I wonder, when they hear
this?"
"They will say what is the truth - that I am the luckiest man in
England. O Leoline! I never thought it was in me to love any
one as I do you."'
"I am very glad to hear it; but I knew that it was in me long
before I ever dreamed of knowing you. Are you not anxious to
know something about the future Lady Kingsley's past history?"
"It will all come in good time; it is not well to have a surfeit
of joy in one night.
"I do not know that this will add to your joy; but it had better
be told and be done with, at once and forever. In the first
place, I presume I am an orphan, for I have never known father or
mother, and I have never had any other name but Leoline."
"So Ormiston told me."
"My first recollection is of Prudence; she was my nurse and
governess, both in one; and we lived in a cottage by the sea - I
don't know where, but a long way from this. When I was about ten
years old, we left it, and came to London, and lived in a house
in Cheapside, for five or six years; and then we moved here. And
all this time, Sir Norman you will think it strange - but I never
made any friends or acquaintances, and knew no one but Prudence
and an old Italian professor, who came to our lodgings in
Cheapside, every week, to give me lessons. It was not because I
disliked society, you must know; but Prudence, with all her
kindness and goodness - and I believe she truly loves me - has
been nothing more or less all my life than my jailer."
She paused to clasp a belt of silver brocade, fastened by a pearl
buckle, close around her little waist, and Sir Norman fixed his
eyes upon her beautiful face, with a powerful glance.
"Knew no one - that is strange, Leoline! Not even the Count
L'Estrange?"
"Ah! you know him?" she cried eagerly, lifting her eyes with a
bright look; "do - do tell me who he is?"
"Upon my honor, my dear," said Sir Norman, considerably taken
aback, "it strikes me you are the person to answer that question.
If I don't greatly mistake, somebody told me you were going to
marry him."
"Oh, so I was," said Leoline, with the utmost simplicity. "But I
don't know him, for all that; and more than that, Sir Norman, I
do not believe his name is Count L'Estrange, any more than mine
in!"
"Precisely my opinion; but why, in the name of - no, I'll not
swear; but why were you going to marry him, Leoline?"
Leoline half pouted, and shrugged her pretty pink satin
shoulders.
"Because I couldn't help it - that's why. He coaxed, and coaxed;
and I said no, and no, and no, until I got tired of it.
Prudence, too, was as bad as he was, until between them I got
about distracted, and at last consented to marry him to get rid
of him."
"My poor, persecuted little darling! Oh," cried Sir Norman, with
a burst of enthusiasm, "how I should admire to have Count
L'Estrange here for about tea minutes, just now! I world spoil
his next wooing for him, or I am mistaken!"
"No, no!" said Leoline, looking rather alarmed; "you must not
fight, you know. I shouldn't at all like either of you to get
killed. Besides, he has not married me; and so there's no harm
done."
Sir Norman seemed rather struck by that view of the case, and
after a few moments reflection on it, came to the conclusion that
she knew best, and settled down peaceably again.
"Why do you suppose his name is not Count L'Estrange?" he asked.
"For many reasons. First - he is disguised; wears false
whiskers, moustache, and wig, and even the voice he uses appears
assumed. Then Prudence seems in the greatest awe of him, and she
is not one to be easily awed. I never knew her to be in the
slightest degree intimidated by any human being but himself and
that mysterious woman, La Masque.
"Ah! you know La Masque, then?"
"Not personally; but I have seen her as I did you, you remember,"
with an arch glance; "and, like you, being once seen, is not to
be forgotten."
Sir Norman promptly paid her for the compliment in Cupid's own
coin:
"Little flatterer! I can almost forgive Count L'Estrange for
wanting to marry you; for I presume he it only a man, and not
quite equal to impossibilities. How long is it since you knew
him first?"
"Not two months. My courtships," said Leoline, with a gay laugh,
"seem destined to be of the shortest. He saw me one evening in
the window, and immediately insisted on being admitted; and after
that, he continued coming until I had to promise, as I have told
you, to be Countess L'Estrange."
"He cannot be mach of a gentleman, or he would not attempt to
force a lady against her will. And so, when you were dressed for
your bridal, you found you had the plague?"
"Yes, Sir Norman; and horrible as that was I do assure you I
almost preferred it to marrying him."
"Leoline, tell me how long it is since you've known me?"
"Nearly three months," said Leoline, blushing again celestial
rosy red.
"And how long have you loved me?"
"Nonsense. What a question! I shall not tell you."
"You shall - you must - I insist upon it. Did you love me before
you met the count? Out with it."
"Well, then - yes!" cried Leoline desperately.
Sir Norman raised the hand he held, is rapture to his lips:
"My darling! But I will reserve my raptures, for it is growing
late, and I know you mast want to go to rest. I have a thousand
things to tell you, but they must wait for daylight; only I will
promise, before parting, that this is the last night you mast
spend here."
Leoline opened her bright eyes very wide.
"To-morrow morning," went on Sir Norman, impressively, and with
dignity, "you will be up and dressed by sunrise, and shortly
after that radiant period, I will make my appearance with two
horses - one of which I shall ride, and the other I shall lead:
the one I lead you shall mount, and we will ride to the nearest
church, and be married without any pomp or pageant; and then Sir
Norman and Lady Kingsley will immediately leave London, and in
Kingsley Castle, Devonshire, will enjoy the honeymoon and
blissful repose till the plague is over. Do you understand
that?"
"Perfectly," she answered, with a radiant face.
"And agree to it?"
"You know I do, Sir Norman; only - "
"Well, my pet, only what?"
"Sir Norman, I should like to see Prudence. I want Prudence.
How can I leave her behind?"
"My dear child, she made nothing of leaving you when she thought
you were dying; so never mind Prudence, but say, will you be
ready?"
"I will."
"That is my good little Leoline. Now give me a kiss, Lady
Kingsley, and good-night."
Lady Kingsley dutifully obeyed; and Sir Norman went out with a
glow at his heart, like a halo round a full moon.
CHAPTER X.
THE PAGE, THE FIRES, AND THE FALL.
The night was intensely dark when Sir Norman got into it once
more; and to any one else would have been intensely dismal, but
to Sir Norman all was bright as the fair hills of Beulah. When
all is bright within, we see no darkness without; and just at
that moment our young knight had got into one of those green and
golden glimpses of sunshine that here and there checker life's
rather dark pathway, and with Leoline beside him would have
thought the dreary whores of the Dead Sea itself a very paradise.
It was now near midnight, and there was an unusual concourse of
people in the sheets, waiting for St. Paul's to give the signal
to light the fires. He looked around for Ormiston; but Ormiston
was nowhere to be seen - horse and rider had disappeared. His
own horse stood tethered where he had left him. Anxious as he
was to ride back to the ruin, and see the play played out, he
could not resist the temptation of lingering a brief period in
the city, to behold the grand spectacle of the myriad fires.
Many persons were hurrying toward St. Paul's to witness it from
the dome; and consigning his horse to the care of the sentinel on
guard at the house opposite, he joined them, and was soon
striding along, at a tremendous pace, toward the great cathedral.
Ere he reached it, its long-tongued clock tolled twelve, and all
the other churches, one after another, took up the sound, and the
witching hour of midnight rang and rerang from end to end of
London town. As if by magic, a thousand forked tongues of fire
shot up at once into the blind, black night, turning almost in an
instant the darkened face of the heavens to an inflamed, glowing
red. Great fires were blazing around the cathedral when they
reached it, but no one stopped to notice them, but only hurried
on the faster to gain their point of observation.
Sir Norman just glanced at the magnificent pile - for the old St.
Paul's was even more magnificent than the new, - and then
followed after the rest, through many a gallery, tower, and
spiral staircase till the dome was reached. And there a grand
and mighty spectacle was before him - the whole of London swaying
and heaving in one great sea of fire. From one end to the other,
the city seemed wrapped in sheets of flame, and every street, and
alley, and lane within it shone in a lurid radiance far brighter
than noonday. All along the river fires were gleaming, too; and
the whole sky had turned from black to blood-red crimson. The
streets were alive and swarming - it could scarcely be believed
that the plague-infested city contained half so many people, and
all were unusually hopeful and animated; for it was popularly
believed that these fires would effectually check the pestilence.
But the angry fiat of a Mighty Judge had gone forth, and the
tremendous arm of the destroying angel was not to be stopped by
the puny hand of man.
It has been said the weather for weeks was unusually brilliant,
days of cloudless sunshine, nights of cloudless moonlight, and
the air was warm and sultry enough for the month of August in the
tropics. But now, while they looked, a vivid flash of lightning,
from what quarter of the heavens no man knew, shot athwart the
sky, followed by another and another, quick, sharp, and blinding.
Then one great drop of rain fell like molten lead on the
pavement, then a second and a third quicker, faster, and thicker,
until down it crashed in a perfect deluge. It did not wait to
rain; it fell in floods - in great, slanting sheets of water, an
if the very floodgates of heaven had opened for a second deluge.
No one ever remembered to have seen such torrents fall, and the
populace fled before it in wildest dismay. In five minutes,
every fire, from one extremity of London to the other, was
quenched in the very blackness of darkness, and on that night the
deepest gloom and terror reigned throughout the city. It was
clear the hand of an avenging Deity was in this, and He who had
rained down fire on Sodom and Gomorrah had not lost His might.
In fifteen minutes the terrific flood was over; the dismal clouds
cleared away, a pale, fair, silver moon shone serenely out, and
looked down on the black, charred heaps of ashes strewn through
the streets of London. One by one, the stars that all night had
been obscured, glanced and sparkled over the sky, and lit up with
their soft, pale light the doomed and stricken town. Everybody
had quitted the dome in terror and consternation; and now Sir
Norman, who had been lost in awe, suddenly bethought him of his
ride to the ruin, and hastened to follow their example. Walking
rapidly, not to say recklessly, along, he abruptly knocked
against some one sauntering leisurely before him, and nearly
pitched headlong on the pavement. Recovering his centre of
gravity by a violent effort, he turned to see the cause of the
collision, and found himself accosted by a musical and
foreign-accented voice.
"Pardon," paid the sweet, and rather feminine tones; "it was
quite an accident, I assure you, monsieur. I had no idea I was
in anybody's way."
Sir Norman looked at the voice, or rather in the direction whence
it came, and found it proceeded from a lad in gay livery, whose
clear, colorless face, dark eyes, end exquisite features were by
no means unknown. The boy seemed to recognize him at the same
moment, and slightly touched his gay cap.
"Ah! it is Sir Norman Kingsley! Just the very person, but one,
in the world that I wanted most to see."
"Indeed! And, pray, whom have I the honor of addressing?"
inquired Sir Norman, deeply edified by the cool familiarity of
the accoster.
"They call me Hubert - for want of a better name, I suppose,"
said the lad, easily. "And may I ask, Sir Norman, if you are
shod with seven-leagued boots, or if your errand is one of life
and death, that you stride along at such a terrific rate?"
"And what is that to you?" asked Sir Norman, indignant at his
free-and-easy impudence.
"Nothing; only I should like to keep up with you, if my legs were
long enough; and as they're not, and as company is not easily to
be had in these forlorn streets, I should feel obliged to you if
you would just slacken your pace a trifle, and take me in tow."
The boy's face in the moonlight, in everything but expression,
was exactly that of Leoline, to which softening circumstance may
be attributed Sir Norman's yielding to the request, and allowing
the page to keep along side.
"I've met you once before to-night?" inquired Sir Norman, after a
prolonged and wondering stare at him.
"Yes; I have a faint recollection of seeing you and Mr. Ormiston
on London Bridge, a few hours ago, and, by the way, perhaps I may
mention I am now in search of that same Mr. Ormiston."
"You are! And what may you want of him, pray?"
"Just a little information of a private character - perhaps you
can direct me to his whereabouts."
"Should be happy to oblige you, my dear boy, but, unfortunately,
I cannot. I want to see him myself, if I could find any one good
enough to direct me to him. Is your business pressing?"
"Very - there is a lady in the case; and such business, you are
aware, is always pressing. Probably you have heard of her - a
youthful angel, in virgin white, who took a notion to jump into
the Thames, not a great while ago."
"Ah!" said Sir Norman, with a start that did not escape the quick
eyes of the boy. "And what do you want of her?"
The page glanced at him.
"Perhaps you know her yourself, sir Norman? If so, you will
answer quite as well as your friend, as I only want to know where
she lives."
"I have been out of town to-night," said Sir Norman, evasively,
"and there may have been more ladies than one jumped into the
Thames, daring my absence. Pray, describe your angel in white."
"I did not notice her particularly myself," said the boy, with
easy indifference, "as I am not in the habit of paying much
attention to young ladies who run wild about the streets at night
and jump promiscuously into rivers. However, this one was rather
remarkable, for being dressed as a bride, having long black hair,
and a great quantity of jewelry about her, and looking very much
like me. Having said she looks like me, I need not add she is
handsome."
"Vanity of vanities, all in vanity !" murmured Sir Norman,
meditatively. "Perhaps she is a relative of yours, Master
Hubert, since you take such an interest in her, and she looks so
much like you."
"Not that I know of," said Hubert, in his careless way. "I
believe I was born minus those common domestic afflictions,
relatives; and I don't take the slightest interest in her,
either; don't think it!"
"Then why are you in search of her?"
"For a very good reason - because I've been ordered to do so."
"By whom - your master?"
"My Lord Rochester," said that nobleman's page, waving off the
insinuation by a motion of his hand and a little displeased
frown; "he picked her up adrift, and being composed of highly
inflammable materials, took a hot and vehement fancy for her,
which fact he did not discover until your friend, Mr. Ormiston,
had carried her off."
Sir Norman scowled.
"And so he sent you in search of her, has he?"
"Exactly so; and now you perceive the reason why it is quite
important that I find Mr. Ormiston. We do not know where he has
taken her to, but fancy it must be somewhere near the river."
"You do? I tell you what it is, my boy," exclaimed Sir Norman,
suddenly and in an elevated key, "the best thing you can do is,
to go home and go to bed, and never mind young ladies. You'll
catch the plague before you'll catch this particular young lady -
I can tell you that!"
"Monsieur is excited," lisped the lad raining his hat end running
his taper fingers through his glossy, dark curls. "Is she as
handsome as they say she is, I wonder?"
"Handsome!" cried Sir Norman, lighting up with quite a new
sensation at the recollection. "I tell you handsome doesn't
begin to describe her! She is beautiful, lovely, angelic, divine - "
Here Sir Norman's litany of adjectives beginning to give out,
he came to a sudden halt, with a face as radiant as the sky
at sunrise.
"Ah! I did not believe them, when they told me she was so much
like me; but if she in as near perfection as you describe, I
shall begin to credit it. Strange, is it not, that nature should
make a duplicate of her greatest earthly chef d'oeuvre?"
"You conceited young jackanapes!" growled Sir Norman, in deep
displeasure. "It is far stranger how such a bundle of vanity can
contrive to live in this work-a-day world. You are a foreigner,
I perceive?"
"Yes, Sir Norman, I am happy to say I am."
"You don't like England, then?"
"I'd be sorry to like it; a dirty, beggarly, sickly place as I
ever saw!"
Sir Norman eyed the slender specimen of foreign manhood, uttering
this sentiment is the sincerest of tones, and let his hand fall
heavily on his shoulder.
"My good youth, be careful! I happen to be a native, and not
altogether used to this sort of talk. How long have you been
here? Not long, I know myself - at least, not in the Earl of
Rochester's service, or I would have seen you."
"Right! I have not been here a month; but that month hag seemed
longer than a year elsewhere. Do you know, I imagine when the
world was created, this island of yours must have been made late
on Saturday night, and then merely thrown in from the refuse to
fill up a dent in the ocean."
Sir Norman paused in his walk, and contemplated the speaker a
moment in severest silence. But Master Hubert only lifted up his
saucy face and laughing black eyes, in dauntless sang froid.
"Master Hubert," began Master Hubert's companion, in his deepest
and sternest base, "I don't know your other name, and it would be
of no consequence if I did - just listen to me a moment. If you
don't want to get run through (you perceive I carry a sword), and
have an untimely end put to your career, just keep a civil tongue
in your head, and don't slander England. Now come on!"
Hubert laughed and shrugged his shoulders:
"Thought is free, however, so I can have my own opinion in spite
of everything. Will you tell me, monsieur, where I can find the
lady?"
"You will have it, will you?" exclaimed Sir Norman, half drawing
his sword. "Don't ask questions, but answer them. Are you
French?"
"Monsieur has guessed it."
"How long have you been with your present master?"
"Monsieur, I object to that term," said Hubert, with calm
dignity. "Master is a vulgarism that I dislike; so, in alluding
to his lordship, take the trouble to say, patron."
Sir Norman laughed.
"With all my heart! How long, then, have you been with your
present patron?"
"Not quite two weeks."
"I do not like to be impertinently inquisitive in addressing so
dignified a gentleman, but perhaps you would not consider it too
great a liberty, if I inquired how you became his page?"
"Monsieur shall ask as many questions as he pleases, and it shall
not be considered the slightest liberty," said the young
gentleman, politely. "I had been roaming at large about the city
and the palace of his majesty - whom may Heaven preserve, and
grant a little more wisdom! - in search of a situation; and among
that of all nobles of the court, the Earl of Rochester's livery
struck me as being the moat becoming, and so I concluded to
patronize him."
"What an honor for his lordship! Since you dislike England so
much, however, you will probably soon throw up the situation and,
patronize the first foreign ambassador - "
"Perhaps! I rather like Whitehall, however. Old Rowlie has
taken rather a fancy to me," said the boy speaking with the same
easy familiarity of his majesty as he would of a lap-dog. "And
what is better, so has Mistress Stewart - so much so, that Heaven
forefend the king should become jealous. This, however, is
strictly entra nous, and not to be spoken of on any terms."
"Your secret shall be preserved at the risk of my life," said Sir
Norman, laying his hand on the left side of his doublet; "and in
return, may I ask if you have any relatives living - any sisters
for instance?"
"I see I you have a suspicion that the lady in white may be a
sister of mine. Well, you may set your mind at rest on that
point - for if she is, it is news to me, as I never saw her in my
life before tonight. Is she a particular friend of yours, Sir
Norman?"
"Never you mind that, my dear boy; but take my advice, and don't
trouble yourself looking for her; for, most assuredly, if you
find her, I shall break your head!"
"Much obliged," said Hubert, touching his cap, "but nevertheless,
I shall risk it. She had the plague, though, when she jumped
into the river, and perhaps the beat place to find her world be
the pest-house. I shall try."
"Go, and Heaven speed you! Yonder is the way to it, and my road
lies here. Good night, master Hubert."
"Good night, Sir Norman," responded the page, bowing airily; "and
if I do not find the lady to-night, most assuredly I shall do so
to-morrow."
Turning along a road leading to the pest-house, and laughing as
he went, the boy disappeared. Fearing lest the page should
follow him, and thereby discover a clue to Leoline's abode, Sir
Norman turned into a street some distance from the house, and
waited in the shadow until he was out of sight. Then he came
forth, and, full of impatience to get back to the ruin, hurried
on to where he had left his horse. He was still in the care of
the watchman, whom he repaid for his trouble; and as he sprang on
his back, he glanced up at the windows of Leoline's house. It
was all buried in profound darkness but that one window from
which that faint light streamed, and he knew that she had not yet
gone to rest. For a moment he lingered and looked at it in the
absurd way lovers will look, and was presently rewarded by seeing
what he watched for - a shadow flit between him and the light.
The sight was a strong temptation to him to dismount and enter, and,
under pretence of warning her against the Earl of Rochester and his
"pretty page," see her once again. But reflection, stepping
rebukingly up to him, whispered indignantly, that his ladylove was
probably by this time in her night robe, and not at home to lovers;
and Sir Norman respectfully bowed to reflection's superior wisdom.
He thought of Hubert's words, "If I do not find her tonight, I shall
most assuredly to-morrow," and a chill presentiment of coming evil
fell upon him.
"To-morrow," he said, as he turned to go. "Who knows what
to-morrow may bring forth! Fairest and dearest Leoline,
goodnight!"
He rode away in the moonlight, with the stars shining peacefully
down upon him. His heart at the moment was a divided one - one
half being given to Leoline, and the other to the Midnight Queen
and her mysterious court. The farther he went away from Leoline,
the dimmer her star became in the horizon of his thoughts; and
the nearer he came to Miranda, the brighter and more eagerly she
loomed up, until he spurred his horse to a most furious gallop,
lest he should find the castle and the queen lost in the regions
of space when he got there. Once the plague-stricken city lay
behind him, his journey was short; and soon, to his great
delight, he turned into the silent deserted by-path leading to
the ruin.
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