CHAPTER IV. THE STRANGER.
The two friends looked at each other in impressive silence for a moment,and spake never a word. Not that they were astonished--they were longpast the power of that emotion: and if a cloud had dropped from thesky at their feet, they would probably have looked at it passively, andvaguely wonder if the rest would follow. Sir Norman, especially, hadsank into a state of mind that words are faint and feeble to describe.Ormiston, not being quite so far gone, was the first to open his lips.
"Upon my honor, Sir Norman, this is the most astonishing thing ever Iheard of. That certainly was the face of our half-dead bride! What, inthe name of all the gods, can it mean, I wonder?"
"I have given up wondering," said Sir Norman, in the same helpless tone."And if the earth was to open and swallow London up, I should not be theleast surprised. One thing is certain: the lady we are seeking and thatpage are one and the same."
"And yet La Masque told you she was two miles from the city, in thehaunted ruin; and La Masque most assuredly knows."
"I have no doubt she is there. I shall not be the least astonished if Ifind her in every street between this and Newgate."
"Really, it is a most singular affair! First you see her in the magiccaldron; then we find her dead; then, when within an ace of beingburied, she comes to life; then we leave her lifeless as a marblestatue, shut up in your room, and fifteen minutes after, she vanishes asmysteriously as a fairy in a nursery legend. And, lastly, she turns upin the shape of a court-page, and swaggers along London Bridge at thishour of the night, chanting a love song. Faith! it would puzzle thesphinx herself to read this riddle, I've a notion!"
"I, for one, shall never try to read it," said Sir Norman. "I am abouttired of this labyrinth of mysteries, and shall save time and La Masqueto unravel them at their leisure."
"Then you mean to give up the pursuit?"
"Not exactly. I love this mysterious beauty too well to do that; andwhen next I find her, be it where it may, I shall take care she does notslip so easily through my fingers."
"I cannot forget that page," said Ormiston, musingly. "It is singularsince, he wears the Earl of Rochester's livery, that we have never seenhim before among his followers. Are you quite sure, Sir Norman, that youhave not?"
"Seen him? Don't be absurd, Ormiston! Do you think I could ever forgetsuch a face as that?"
"It would not be easy, I confess. One does not see such every day. Andyet--and yet--it is most extraordinary!"
"I shall ask Rochester about him the first thing to-morrow; and unlesshe is an optical illusion--which I vow I half believe is the case--Iwill come at the truth in spite of your demoniac friend, La Masque!"
"Then you do not mean to look for him to-night?"
"Look for him? I might as well look for a needle in a haystack. No! Ihave promised La Masque to visit the old ruins, and there I shall goforthwith. Will you accompany me?"
"I think not. I have a word to say to La Masque, and you and she kepttalking so busily, I had no chance to put it in."
Sir Norman laughed.
"Besides, I have no doubt it is a word you would not like to utter inthe presence of a third party, even though that third party beyour friend and Pythias, Kingsley. Do you mean to stay here like aplague-sentinel until she returns?"
"Possibly; or if I get tired I may set out in search of her. When do youreturn?"
"The Fates, that seem to make a foot-ball of my best affections, andkick them as they please, only know. If nothing happens--which, beinginterpreted, means, if I am still in the land of the living--I shallsurely be back by daybreak."
"And I shall be anxious about that time to hear the result of yournight's adventure; so where shall we meet?"
"Why not here? it is as good a place as any."
"With all my heart. Where do you propose getting a horse?"
"At the King's Arms--but a stones throw from here. Farewell."
"Good-night, and God speed you!" said Ormiston. And wrapping his cloakclose about him, he leaned against the doorway, and, watching thedancing lights on the river, prepared to await the return of La Masque.
With his head full of the adventures and misadventures of the night, SirNorman walked thoughtfully on until he reached the King's Arms--a lowinn on the bank of the river. To his dismay he found the house shut up,and bearing the dismal mark and inscription of the pestilence. Whilehe stood contemplating it in perplexity, a watchman, on guard beforeanother plague-stricken house, advanced and informed him that the wholefamily had perished of the disease, and that the landlord himself, thelast survivor, had been carried off not twenty minutes before to theplague-pit.
"But," added the man, seeing Sir Norman's look of annoyance, and beinginformed what he wanted, "there are two or three horses around therein the stable, and you may as well help yourself, for if you don't takethem, somebody else will."
This philosophic logic struck Sir Norman as being so extremelyreasonable, that without more ado he stepped round to the stables andselected the best it contained. Before proceeding on his journey, itoccurred to him that, having been handling a plague-patient, it wouldbe a good thing to get his clothes fumigated; so he stepped into anapothecary's store for that purpose, and provided himself also witha bottle of aromatic vinegar. Thus prepared for the worst, Sir Normansprang on his horse like a second Don Quixote striding his good steedRozinante, and sallied forth in quest of adventures. These, for a shorttime, were of rather a dismal character; for, hearing the noise ofa horse's hoofs in the silent streets at that hour of the night, thepeople opened their doors as he passed by, thinking it the pest-cart,and brought forth many a miserable victim of the pestilence. Avertinghis head from the revolting spectacles, Sir Norman held the bottle ofvinegar to his nostrils, and rode rapidly till he reached Newgate. Therehe was stopped until his bill of health was examined, and that smallmanuscript being found all right, he was permitted to pass on in peace.Everywhere he went, the trail of the serpent was visible over all. Deathand Desolation went hand in hand. Outside as well as inside the gates,great piles of wood and coal were arranged, waiting only the midnighthour to be fired. Here, however, no one seemed to be stirring; and nosound broke the silence but the distant rumble of the death-cart, andthe ringing of the driver's bell. There were lights in some of thehouses, but many of them were dark and deserted, and nearly every onebore the red cross of the plague.
It was a gloomy scene and hour, and Sir Norman's heart turned sickwithin him as he noticed the ruin and devastation the pestilence hadeverywhere wrought. And he remembered, with a shudder, the predictionof Lilly, the astrologer, that the paved streets of London would be likegreen fields, and the living be no longer able to bury the dead. Longbefore this, he had grown hardened and accustomed to death from its veryfrequence; but now, as he looked round him, he almost resolved to rideon and return no more to London till the plague should have left it.But then came the thought of his unknown lady-love, and with it thereflection that he was on his way to find her; and, rousing himselffrom his melancholy reverie, he rode on at a brisker pace, heroicallyresolved to brave the plague or any other emergency, for her sake. Fullof this laudable and lover-like resolution, he had got on about halfa mile further, when he was suddenly checked in his rapid career by anexciting, but in no way surprising, little incident.
During the last few yards, Sir Norman had come within sight of anotherhorseman, riding on at rather a leisurely pace, considering the placeand the hour. Suddenly three other horsemen came galloping down uponhim, and the leader presenting a pistol at his head, requested him ina stentorial voice for his money or his life. By way of reply, thestranger instantly produced a pistol of his own, and before theastonished highwayman could comprehend the possibility of such an act,discharged it full in his face. With a loud yell the robber reeled andfell from his saddle, and in a twinkling both his companions fired theirpistols at the traveler, and bore, with a simultaneous cry of rage, downupon him. Neither of the shots had taken effect, but the two enragedhighwaymen wou
ld have made short work of their victim had not SirNorman, like a true knight, ridden to the rescue. Drawing his sword,with one vigorous blow he placed another of the assassins hors decombat; and, delighted with the idea of a fight to stir his stagnantblood, was turning (like a second St. George at the Dragon), upon theother, when that individual, thinking discretion the better part ofvalor, instantaneously turned tail and fled. The whole brisk littleepisode had not occupied five minutes, and Sir Norman was scarcely awarethe fight had began before it had triumphantly ended.
"Short, sharp, and decisive!" was the stranger's cool criticism, as hedeliberately wiped his blood-stained sword, and placed it in a velvetscabbard. "Our friends, there, got more than they bargained for, Ifancy. Though, but for you, Sir," he said, politely raising his hat andbowing, "I should probably have been ere this in heaven, or--the otherplace."
Sir Norman, deeply edified by the easy sang-froid of the speaker, turnedto take a second look at him. There was very little light; for the nighthad grown darker as it wore on, and the few stars that had glimmeredfaintly had hid their diminished heads behind the piles of inky clouds.Still, there was a sort of faint phosphorescent light whitening thegloom, and by it Sir Norman's keen bright eyes discovered that he worea long dark cloak and slouched hat. He discovered something else,too--that he had seen that hat and cloak, and the man inside of them onLondon Bridge, not an hour before. It struck Sir Norman there was a sortof fatality in their meeting; and his pulses quickened a trifle, as hethought that he might be speaking to the husband of the lady for whomhe had so suddenly conceived such a rash and inordinate attachment. Thatpersonage meantime having reloaded his pistol, with a self-possessionrefreshing to witness, replaced it in his doublet, gathered up thereins, and, glancing slightly at his companion, spoke again,
"I should thank you for saving my life, I suppose, but thanking peopleis so little in my line, that I scarcely know how to set about it.Perhaps, my dear sir, you will take the will for the deed."
"An original, this," thought Sir Norman, "whoever he is." Then aloud:"Pray don't trouble yourself about thanks, sir, I should have domeprecisely the same for the highwaymen, had you been three to one overthem."
"I don't doubt it in the least; nevertheless I feel grateful, for youhave saved my life all the same, and you have never seen me before."
"There you are mistaken," said Sir Norman, quietly "I had the pleasureof seeing you scarce an hour ago."
"Ah!" said the stranger, in an altered tone, "and where?"
"On London Bridge."
"I did not see you."
"Very likely, but I was there none the less."
"Do you know me?" said the stranger; and Sir Norman could see he wasgazing at him sharply from under the shadow of his slouched hat.
"I have not that honor, but I hope to do so before we part."
"It was quite dark when you saw me on the bridge--how comes it, then,that you recollect me so well?"
"I have always been blessed with an excellent memory," said Sir Normancarelessly, "and I knew your dress, face, and voice instantly."
"My voice! Then you heard me speak, probably to the watchman guarding aplague-stricken house?"
"Exactly! and the subject being a very interesting one, I listened toall you said."
"Indeed! and what possible interest could the subject have for you, mayI ask?"
"A deeper one than you think!" said Sir Norman, with a slight tremor inhis voice as he thought of the lady, "the watchman told you the lady yousought for had been carried away dead, and thrown into the plague-pit!"
"Well," cried the stranger starting violently, "and was it not true?"
"Only partly. She was carried away in the pest-cart sure enough, but shewas not thrown into the plague-pit!"
"And why?"
"Because, when on reaching that horrible spot, she was found to bealive!"
"Good Heaven! And what then?"
"Then," exclaimed Sir Norman, in a tone almost as excited as his own,"she was brought to the house of a friend, and left alone for a fewminutes, while that friend went in search of a doctor. On returning theyfound her--where do you think?"
"Where?"
"Gone!" said Sir Norman emphatically, "spirited away by some mysteriousagency; for she was dying of the plague, and could not possibly stirhand or foot herself."
"Dying of the plague, O Leoline!" said the stranger, in a voice full ofpity and horror, while for a moment he covered his face with his hands.
"So her name is Leoline?" said Sir Norman to himself. "I have foundthat out, and also that this gentleman, whatever he may be to her, is asignorant of her whereabouts as I am myself. He seems in trouble, too. Iwonder if he really happens to be her husband?"
The stranger suddenly lifted his head and favored Sir Norman with a longand searching look.
"How come you to know all this, Sir Norman Kingsley," he asked abruptly.
"And how come you to know my name?" demanded Sir Norman, very muchamazed, notwithstanding his assertion that nothing would astonish himmore.
"That is of no consequence! Tell me how you've learned all this?"repeated the stranger, in a tone of almost stern authority.
Sir Norman started and stared. That voice! I have had heard it athousand times! It had evidently been disguised before; but now, in theexcitement of the moment, the stranger was thrown off his guard, and itbecame perfectly familiar. But where had he heard it? For the life ofhim, Sir Norman could not tell, yet it was as well known to him ashis own. It had the tone, too, of one far more used to command thanentreaty; and Sir Norman, instead of getting angry, as he felt he oughtto have done, mechanically answered:
"The watchman told you of the two young men who brought her out and laidher in the dead-cart--I was one of the two."
"And who was the other?"
"A friend of mine--one Malcolm Ormiston."
"Ah! I know him! Pardon my abruptness, Sir Norman," said the stranger,once more speaking in his assumed suave tone, "but I feel deeply on thissubject, and was excited at the moment. You spoke of her being broughtto the house of a friend--now, who may that friend be, for I was notaware that she had any?"
"So I judged," said Sir Norman, rather bitterly, "or she would not havebeen left to die alone of the plague. She was brought to my house, sir,and I am the friend who would have stood by her to the last!"
Sir Norman sat up very straight and haughty on his horse; and had itbeen daylight, he would have seen a slight derisive smile pass over thelips of his companion.
"I have always heard that Sir Norman Kingsley was a chivalrous knight,"he said; "but I scarcely dreamed his gallantry would have carried himso far as to brave death by the pestilence for the sake of an unknownlady--however beautiful. I wonder you did not carry her to thepest-house."
"No doubt! Those who could desert her at such a time would probably becapable of that or any other baseness!"
"My good friend," said the stranger, calmly, "your insinuation is notover-courteous, but I can forgive it, more for the sake of what you'vedone for her to-night than for myself."
Sir Norman's lip curled.
"I'm obliged to you! And now, sir, as you have seen fit to question mein this free and easy manner, will you pardon me if I take the libertyof returning the compliment, and ask you a few in return?"
"Certainly; pray proceed, Sir Norman," said the stranger, blandly; "youare at liberty to ask as many questions as you please--so am I to answerthem."
"I answered all yours unhesitatingly, and you owe it to me to do thesame," said Sir Norman, somewhat haughtily. "In the first place, youhave an advantage of me which I neither understand, nor relish; so,to place us on equal terms, will you have the goodness to tell me yourname?"
"Most assuredly! My name," said the stranger, with glib airiness, "isCount L'Estrange."
"A name unknown to me," said Sir Norman, with a piercing look, "andequally unknown, I believe, at Whitehall. There is a Lord L'Estrange inLondon; but you and he are certainly not one and the same."<
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"My friend does not believe me," said the count, almost gayly--"acircumstance I regret, but cannot help. Is there anything else SirNorman wishes to know?"
"If you do not answer my questions truthfully, there is little use inmy asking them," said Sir Norman, bluntly. "Do you mean to say you are aforeigner?"
"Sir Norman Kingsley is at perfect liberty to answer that question as hepleases," replied the stranger, with most provoking indifference.
Sir Norman's eye flashed, and his hand fell on his sword; but,reflecting that the count might find it inconvenient to answer any morequestions if he ran him through, he restrained himself and went on.
"Sir, you are impertinent, but that is of no consequence, just now. Whowas that lady--what was her name?"
"Leoline."
"Was she your wife?"
The stranger paused for a moment, as if reflecting whether she was ornot, and then said, meditatively,
"No--I don't know as she was. On the whole, I am pretty sure she wasnot."
Sir Norman felt as if a ton weight had been suddenly hoisted from theregion of his heart.
"Was she anybody else's wife?"
"I think not. I'm inclined to think that, except myself, she did notknow another man in London."
"Then why was she dressed as a bride?" inquired Sir Norman, rathermystified.
"Was she? My poor Leoline!" said the stranger, sadly. "Because-"he hesitated, "because--in short, Sir Norman," said the stranger,decidedly, "I decline answering any more questions!"
"I shall find out, for all that," said Sir Norman, "and here I shall bidyou good-night, for this by-path leads to my destination."
"Good-night," said the stranger, "and be careful, Sir Norman--remember,the plague is abroad."
"And so are highwaymen!" called Sir Norman after him, a littlemaliciously; but a careless laugh from the stranger was the only replyas he galloped away.