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, hissteps turned as mechanically as the needle to the North Pole toward LaMasque's house. Before it he wandered, around it he wandered, like anuneasy ghost, lost in speculation about the hidden face, and fearfullyimpatient about the flight of time. If La Masque saw him hovering aloofand unable to tear himself away, perhaps it might touch her obdurateheart, and cause her to shorten the dreary interval, and summon him toher presence at once. Just then some one opened the door, and his heartbegan to beat with anticipation; some one pronounced his name, and,going over, he saw the animated bag of bones--otherwise his lady-love'svassal and porter.
"La Masque says," began the attenuated lackey, and Ormiston's heartnearly jumped out of his mouth, "that she can't have anybody hangingabout her house like its shadow; and she wants you to go away, and keepaway, till the time comes she has mentioned."
So saying the skeleton shut the door, and Ormiston's heart went down tozero. There being nothing for it but obedience, however, he slowly andreluctantly turned away, feeling in his bones, that if ever he came tothe bliss and ecstasy of calling La Masque Mrs. Ormiston, the gray marein his stable would be by long odds the better horse. Unintentionallyhis steps turned to the water-side, and he descended the flight ofstairs, determined to get into a boat and watch the illumination fromthe river.
Late as was the hour, the Thames seemed alive with ferries and barges,and their numerous lights danced along the surface like fire-flies overa marsh. A gay barge, gilded and cushioned, was going slowly past; andas he stood directly under the lamp, he was recognized by a gentlemanwithin it, who leaned over and hailed him,
"Ormiston! I say, Ormiston!"
"Well, my lord," said Ormiston, recognizing the handsome face andanimated voice of the Earl of Rochester.
"Have you any engagement for the next half-hour? If not, do me the favorto 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 willbe successful?"
"Not the least. You know, my lord, the prediction runs, that the plaguewill rage till the living are no longer able to bury the dead."
"It will soon come to that," said the earl shuddering slightly, "if itcontinues increasing much longer as it does now daily. How do the billsof mortality run 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! Howthey 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, alldingy with smoke and streaked with bars of fiery red.
"I see! There is a storm coming, and a heavy one! Our worthy burghersand most worshipful Lord Mayor will see their fires extinguishedshortly, 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 hangingover 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 amto turn my back to it to-morrow for a brief period. You are aware, Isuppose, 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 thoughtthere were half the number left alive in London."
"Even the sick have come out to-night," said Ormiston. "Half thepest-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 werescued 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'tmake 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 myhonor, my lord, I do not know."
The earl's face, half indignant, half incredulous, wholly curious, madeOrmiston smile.
"It is a fact, my lord. I asked her her name, and she told me Leoline--apretty 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 hadescaped from her friends, which was strictly true."
"Then how the demon had you the impudence to come up and carry her offin that style? I certainly had a better right to her than you--the rightof discovery; and I shall call upon you to deliver her up!"
"If she belonged to me I should only be too happy to oblige yourlordship," laughed Ormiston; "but she is at present the property of SirNorman Kingsley, and to him you must apply."
"Ah! His inamorata, is she? Well, I must say his taste is excellent; butI should think you ought to know her name, since you and he are notedfor being a modern Damon and Pythias."
"Probably I should, my lord, only Sir Norman, unfortunately, does notknow himself."
The earl's countenance looked so utterly blank at this announcement,that Ormiston was forced to throw in a word of explanation.
"I mean to say, my lord, that he has fallen in love with her; and,judging from appearances, I should say his flame is not altogetherhopeless, although they have met to-night for the first time."
"A rapid passion. Where have you left her, Ormiston?"
"In her own house, my lord," Ormiston replied, smiling quietly tohimself.
"Where is that?"
"About a dozen yards from where I stood when you called me."
"Who are her family?" continued the earl, who seemed possessed of adevouring curiosity.
"She has none that I know of. I imagine Mistress Leoline is an orphan.I know there was not a living soul but ourselves in the house I broughther to."
"And you left her there alone?" exclaimed the earl, half starting up, asif about to order the boatman to row back to the landing.
Ormiston looked at his excited face with a glance full of quiet malice.
"No, my lord, not quits; Sir Norman Kingsley was with her!"
"Oh!" said the earl, smiling back with a look of chagrin. "Then he willprobably find out her name before he comes away. I wonder you could giveher up so easily to him, after all your trouble!"
"Smitten, my lord?" inquired Ormiston, maliciously.
"Hopelessly!" replied the earl, with a deep sigh. "She was a perfectlittle beauty; and if I can find her, I warn Sir Norman Kingsley to takecare! I have already sent Hubert out in search of her; and, by the way,"said the earl, with a sudden increase of animation, "what a wonderfulresemblance she bears to Hubert--I could almost swear they were one andthe same!"
"The likeness is marvelous; but I should hate to take such an oath. Iconfess I am somewhat curious myself; but I stand no chance of having itgratified before to-morrow, I suppose."
"How those fires blaze! It is m
uch brighter than at noon-day. Show methe house in which Leoline lies?".
Ormiston easily pointed it out, and showed the earl the light stillburning in her window.
"It was in that room we found her first, dead of the plague!"
"Dead of the what?" cried the earl, aghast.
"Dead of the plague! I'll tell your lordship how it was," said Ormiston,who forthwith commend and related the story of their finding Leoline;of the resuscitation at the plague-pit; of the flight from Sir Norman'shouse, and of the delirious plunge into the river, and miraculous cure.
"A marvelous story," commented the earl, much interested. "And Leolineseems to have as many lives as a cat! Who can she be--a princess indisguise--eh, Ormiston?"
"She looks fit to be a princess, or anything else; but your lordshipknows as much about her, now, as I do."
"You say she was dressed as a bride--how came that?"
"Simply enough. She was to be married to-night, had she not taken theplague instead."
"Married? Why, I thought you told me a few minutes ago she was in lovewith Kingsley. It seems to me, Mr. Ormiston, your remarks are a trifleinconsistent," said the earl, in a tone of astonished displeasure.
"Nevertheless, they are all perfectly true. Mistress Leoline was to bemarried, as I told you; but she was to marry to please her friends, andnot herself. She had been in the habit of watching Kingsley go pasther window; and the way she blushed, and went through the other littlemotions, convinces me that his course of true love will ran as smooth asthis glassy river runs at present."
"Kingsley is a lucky fellow. Will the discarded suitor have no voice inthe matter; or is he such a simpleton as to give her up at a word?"
Ormiston laughed.
"Ah! to be sure; what will the count say? And, judging from some thingsI've heard, I should say he is violently in love with her."
"Count who?" asked Rochester. "Or has he, like his ladylove, no othername?"
"Oh, no! The name of the gentleman who was so nearly blessed for life,and missed it, is Count L'Estrange!"
The earl had been lying listlessly back, only half intent upon hisanswer, as he watched the fire; but now he sprang sharply up, and staredOrmiston full in the face.
"Count what did you say?" was his eager question, while his eyes, moreeager than his voice, strove to read the reply before it was repeated.
"Count L'Estrange. You know him, my lord?" said Ormiston, quietly.
"Ah!" said the earl. And then such a strange meaning smile wentwandering about his face. "I have not said that! So his name is CountL'Estrange? Well, I don't wonder now at the girl's beauty."
The earl sank back to his former nonchalant position and fell for amoment or two into deep musing; and then, as if the whole thing struckhim in a new and ludicrous light, he broke out into an immoderate fit oflaughter. Ormiston looked at him curiously.
"It is my turn to ask questions, now, my lord. Who is Count L'Estrange?"
"I know of no such person, Ormiston. I was thinking of something else!Was it Leoline who told you that was her lover's name?"
"No; I heard it by mere accident from another person. I am sure, ifLeoline is not a personage in disguise, he is."
"And why do you think so?"
"An inward conviction, my lord. So you will not tell me who he is?"
"Have I not told you I know of no such person as Count L'Estrange? Youought to believe me. Oh, here it comes."
This last was addressed to a great drop of rain, which splashedheavily on his upturned face, followed by another and another in quicksuccession.
"The storm is upon us," said the earl, sitting up and wrapping his cloakcloser around him, "and I am for Whitehall. Shall we land you, Ormiston,or take you there, too?"
"I must land," said Ormiston. "I have a pressing engagement for the nexthalf-hour. Here it is, in a perfect deluge; the fires will be out infive minutes."
The barge touched the stairs, and Ormiston sprang out, with "Good-night"to the earl. The rain was rushing along, now, in torrents, and he ranupstairs and darted into an archway of the bridge, to seek the shelter.Some one else had come there before him, in search of the same thing;for he saw two dark figures standing within it as he entered.
"A sudden storm," was Ormiston's salutation, "and a furious one. Therego the fires--hiss and splutter. I knew how it would be."
"Then Saul and Mr. Ormiston are among the prophets?"
Ormiston had heard that voice before; it was associated in his mind witha slouched hat and shadowy cloak; and by the fast-fading flicker of thefirelight, he saw that both were here. The speaker was Count L'Estrange;the figure beside him, slender and boyish, was unknown.
"You have the advantage of me, sir," he said affecting ignorance. "May Iask who you are?"
"Certainly. A gentlemen, by courtesy and the grace of God."
"And your name?"
"Count L'Estrange, at your service."
Ormiston lifted his cap and bowed, with a feeling somehow, that thecount was a man in authority.
"Mr. Ormiston assisted in doing a good deed, tonight, for a friend ofmine," said the count.
"Will he add to that obligation by telling me if he has not discoveredher again, and brought her back?"
"Do you refer to the fair lady in yonder house?"
"So she is there? I thought so, George," said the count, addressinghimself to his companion. "Yes, I refer to her, the lady you saved fromthe river. You brought her there?"
"I brought her there," replied Ormiston.
"She is there still?"
"I presume so. I have heard nothing to the contrary."
"And alone?"
"She may be, now. Sir Norman Kingsley was with her when I left her,"said Ormiston, administering the fact with infinite relish.
There was a moment's silence. Ormiston could not see the count's face;but, judging from his own feelings, he fancied its expression must besweet. The wild rush of the storm alone broke the silence, until thespirit again moved the count to speak.
"By what right does Sir Norman Kingsley visit her?" he inquired, in avoice betokening not the least particle of emotion.
"By the best of rights--that of her preserver, hoping soon to be herlover."
There was an other brief silence, broken again by the count, in the samecomposed tone:
"Since the lady holds her levee so late, I, too, must have a wordwith her, when this deluge permits one to go abroad without danger ofdrowning."
"It shown symptoms of clearing off, already," said Ormiston, who, in hissecret heart, thought it would be an excellent joke to bring the rivalsface to face in the lady's presence; "so you will not have long towait."
To which observation the count replied not; and the three stood insilence, watching the fury of the storm.
Gradually it cleared away; and as the moon began to straggle out betweenthe rifts in the clouds, the count saw something by her pale light thatOrmiston saw not. That latter gentleman, standing with his back to thehouse of Leoline, and his face toward that of La Masque, did not observethe return of Sir Norman from St. Paul's, nor look after him as he rodeaway. But the count did both; and ten minutes after, when the rain hadentirely ceased, and the moon and stars got the better of the clouds intheir struggle for supremacy, he beheld La Masque flitting like a darkshadow in the same direction, and vanishing in at Leoline's door. Thesame instant, Ormiston started to go.
"The storm has entirely ceased," he said, stepping out, and with theprofound air of one making a new discovery, "and we are likely to havefine weather for the remainder of the night--or rather, morning. Goodnight, count."
"Farewell," said the count, as he and, his companion came out from theshadow of the archway, and turned to follow La Masque.
Ormiston, thinking the hour of waiting had elapsed, and feeling muchmore interested in the coming meeting than in Leoline or her visitors,paid very little attention to his two acquaintances. He saw them, itis true, enter Leoline's house, but at the same instant, he took up
hispost at La Masque's doorway, and concentrated his whole attention onthat piece of architecture. Every moment seemed like a week now; andbefore he had stood at his post five minutes, he had worked himself upinto a perfect fever of impatience. Sometimes he was inclined to knockand seek La Masque in her own home; but as often the fear of a chillingrebuke paralyzed his hand when he raised it. He was so sure she waswithin the house, that he never thought of looking for her elsewhere;and when, at the expiration of what seemed to him a century or two,but which in reality was about a quarter of an hour, there was a softrustling of drapery behind him, and the sweetest of voices sounded inhis ear, it fairly made him bound.
"Here again, Mr. Ormiston? Is this the fifth or sixth time I've foundyou in this place to-night?"
"La Masque!" he cried, between joy and surprise. "But surely, I was nottotally unexpected this time?"
"Perhaps not. You are waiting here for me to redeem my promise, Isuppose?"
"Can you doubt it? Since I knew you first, I have desired this hour asthe blind desire sight."
"Ah! And you will find it as sweet to look back upon as you have to lookforward to," said La Masque, derisively. "If you are wise for yourself,Mr. Ormiston, you will pause here, and give me back that fatal word."
"Never, madame! And surely you will not be so pitilessly cruel as todraw back, now?"
"No, I have promised, and I shall perform; and let the consequences bewhat they may, they will rest upon your own head. You have been warned,and you still insist."
"I still insist!"
"Then let us move farther over here into the shadow of the houses; thismoonlight is so dreadfully bright!"
They moved on into the deep shadow, and there was a pulse throbbing inOrmiston's head and heart like the beating of a muffed drum. They pausedand faced each other silently.
"Quick, madame!" cried Ormiston, hoarsely, his whole face flushedwildly.
His strange companion lifted her hand as if to remove the mask, and hesaw that it shook like an aspen. She made one motion as though about tolift it, and then recoiled, as if from herself, in a sort of horror.
"My God! What is this man urging me to do? How can I ever fulfill thatfatal promise?"
"Madame, you torture me!" said Ormiston, whose face showed what he felt."You must keep your promise; so do not drive me wild waiting. Let me--"
He took a step toward her, as if to lift the mask himself, but she heldout both arms to keep him off.
"No, no, no! Come not near me, Malcolm Ormiston! Fated man, since youwill rush on your doom, Look! and let the sight blast you, if it will!"
She unfastened her mask, raised it, and with it the profusion of long,sweeping black hair.
Ormiston did look--in much the same way, perhaps, that Zulinka lookedat the Veiled Prophet. The next moment there was a terrible cry, and hefell headlong with a crash, as if a bullet had whined through his heart.
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