The Midnight Queen Read online

  CHAPTER II. THE DEAD BRIDE

  "Well," said Ormiston, drawing a long bath, "what do you think of that?"

  "Think? Don't ask me yet." said Sir Norman, looking rather bewildered."I'm in such a state of mystification that I don't rightly know whetherI'm standing on my head or feet. For one thing, I have come to theconclusion that your masked ladylove must be enchantingly beautiful."

  "Have I not told you that a thousand times, O thou of little faith? Butwhy have you come to such a conclusion?"

  "Because no woman with such a figure, such a voice and such hands couldbe otherwise."

  "I knew you would own it some day. Do you wonder now that I love her?"

  "Oh! as to loving her," said Sir Norman, coolly, "that's quite anotherthing. I could no more love her or her hands, voice, and shape, than Icould a figure in wood or wax; but I admire her vastly, and think herextremely clever. I will never forget that face in the caldron. It wasthe most exquisitely beautiful I ever saw."

  "In love with the shadow of a face! Why, you are a thousandfold moreabsurd than I."

  "No," said Sir Norman, thoughtfully, "I don't know as I'm in love withit; but if ever I see a living face like it, I certainly shall be. Howdid La Masque do it, I wonder?"

  "You had better ask her," said Ormiston, bitterly. "She seems to havetaken an unusual interest in you at first sight. She would strew yourpath with roses, forsooth! Nothing earthly, I believe, would make hersay anything half so tender to me."

  Sir Norman laughed, and stroked his moustache complacently.

  "All a matter of taste, my dear fellow: and these women are noted fortheir perfection in that line. I begin to admire La Masque more andmore, and I think you had better give up the chase, and let me take yourplace. I don't believe you have the ghost of a chance, Ormiston."

  "I don't believe it myself," said Ormiston, with a desperate face "butuntil the plague carries me off I cannot give her up; and the soonerthat happens, the better. Ha! what is this?"

  It was a piercing shriek--no unusual sound; and as he spoke, the door ofan adjoining house was flung open, a woman rushed wildly out, fled downan adjoining street, and disappeared.

  Sir Norman and his companion looked at each other, and then at thehouse.

  "What's all this about?" demanded Ormiston.

  "That's a question I can't take it upon myself to answer," said SirNorman; "and the only way to solve the mystery, is to go in and see."

  "It may be the plague," said Ormiston, hesitating. "Yet the house is notmarked. There is a watchman. I will ask him."

  The man with the halberd in his hand was walking up and down before anadjoining house, bearing the ominous red cross and piteous inscription:"Lord have mercy on us!"

  "I don't know, sir," was his answer to Ormiston. "If any one there hasthe plague, they must have taken it lately; for I heard this morningthere was to be a wedding there to-night."

  "I never heard of any one screaming in that fashion about a wedding,"said Ormiston, doubtfully. "Do you know who lives there?"

  "No, sir. I only came here, myself, yesterday, but two or three timesto-day I have seen a very beautiful young lady looking out of thewindow."

  Ormiston thanked the man, and went back to report to his friend.

  "A beautiful young lady!" said Sir Norman, with energy. "Then I mean togo directly up and see about it, and you can follow or not, just as youplease."

  So saying, Sir Norman entered the open doorway, and found himself in along hall, flanked by a couple of doors on each side. These he openedin rapid succession, finding nothing but silence and solitude; andOrmiston--who, upon reflection, chose to follow--ran up a wide andsweeping staircase at the end of the hall. Sir Norman followed him, andthey came to a hall similar to the one below. A door to the right layopen; and both entered without ceremony, and looked around.

  The room was spacious, and richly furnished. Just enough light stolethrough the oriel window at the further end, draped with crimson satinembroidered with gold, to show it. The floor was of veined wood of manycolors, arranged in fanciful mosaics, and strewn with Turkish rugs andPersian mats of gorgeous colors. The walls were carved, the ceilingcorniced, and all fretted with gold network and gilded mouldings. On acouch covered with crimson satin, like the window drapery, lay a cithrenand some loose sheets of music. Near it was a small marble table,covered with books and drawings, with a decanter of wine and anexquisite little goblet of Bohemian glass. The marble mantel was strewnwith ornaments of porcelain and alabaster, and a beautifully-carved vaseof Parian marble stood in the centre, filled with brilliant flowers.A great mirror reflected back the room, and beneath it stood atoilet-table, strewn with jewels, laces, perfume-bottles, and an arrayof costly little feminine trifles such as ladies were as fond of twocenturies ago as they are to-day. Evidently it was a lady's chamber; forin a recess near the window stood a great quaint carved bedstead, withcurtains and snowy lace, looped back with golden arrows and scarletribbons. Some one lay on it, too--at least, Ormiston thought so; and hewent cautiously forward, drew the curtain, and looked down.

  "Great Heaven! what a beautiful face!" was his cry, as he bent stillfurther down.

  "What the plague is the matter?" asked Sir Norman, coming forward.

  "You have said it," said Ormiston, recoiling. "The plague is the matter.There lies one dead of it!"

  Curiosity proving stronger than fear, Sir Norman stepped forward to lookat the corpse. It was a young girl with a face as lovely as a poet'svision. That face was like snow, now; and, in its calm, cold majesty,looked as exquisitely perfect as some ancient Grecian statue. The low,pearly brow, the sweet, beautiful lips, the delicate oval outline ofcountenance, were perfect. The eyes were closed, and the long darklashes rested on the ivory cheeks. A profusion of shining dark hair fellin elaborate curls over her neck and shoulders. Her dress was that ofa bride; a robe of white satin brocaded with silver, fairly dazzling inits shining radiance, and as brief in the article of sleeves and neckas that of any modern belle. A circlet of pearls were clasped round hersnow-white throat, and bracelets of the same jewels encircled the snowytaper arms. On her head she wore a bridal wreath and veil--the formerof jewels, the latter falling round her like a cloud of mist. Everythingwas perfect, from the wreath and veil to the tiny sandaled feet andlying there in her mute repose she looked more like some exquisitepiece of sculpture than anything that had ever lived and moved in thisgroveling world of ours. But from one shoulder the dress had been pulleddown, and there lay a great livid purple plague-spot!

  "Come away!" said Ormiston, catching his companion by the arm. "It isdeath to remain here!"

  Sir Norman had been standing like one in a trance, from whichthis address roused him, and he grasped Ormiston's shoulder almostfrantically.

  "Look there, Ormiston! There lies the very face that sorceress showedme, fifteen minutes ago, in her infernal caldron! I would know it at theother end of the world!"

  "Are you sure?" said Ormiston, glancing again with new curiosity at themarble face. "I never saw anything half so beautiful in all my life; butyou see she is dead of the plague."

  "Dead? she cannot be! Nothing so perfect could die!"

  "Look there," said Ormiston pointing to the plague-spot. "There is thefatal token! For Heaven's sake let us get out of this, or we will sharethe same fate before morning!"

  But Sir Norman did not move--could not move; he stood there rooted tothe spot by the spell of that lovely, lifeless face.

  Usually the plague left its victims hideous, ghastly, discolored, andcovered with blotches; but in this case then was nothing to mar theperfect beauty of the satin-smooth skin, but that one dreadful mark.

  There Sir Norman stood in his trance, as motionless as if some genie outof the "Arabian Nights" had suddenly turned him into stone (a trick theywere much addicted to), and destined him to remain there an ornamentalfixture for ever. Ormiston looked at him distractedly, uncertain whetherto try moral suasion or to take him by the collar and drag him headlongdown th
e stairs, when a providential but rather dismal circumstance cameto his relief. A cart came rattling along the street, a bell was loudlyrang, and a hoarse voice arose with it: "Bring out your dead! Bring outyour dead!"

  Ormiston rushed down stair to intercept the dead-cart, already almostfull on it way to the plague-pit. The driver stopped at his call, andinstantly followed him up stairs, and into the room. Glancing at thebody with the utmost sang-froid, he touched the dress, and indifferentlyremarked:

  "A bride, I should say; and an uncommonly handsome one too. We'll justtake her along as she is, and strip these nice things off the body whenwe get it to the plague-pit."

  So saying, he wrapped her in the sheet, and directing Ormiston to takehold of the two lower ends, took the upper corners himself, with theair of a man quite used to that sort of thing. Ormiston recoiled fromtouching it; and Sir Norman seeing what they were about to do, andknowing there was no help for it, made up his mind, like a sensibleyoung man as he was, to conceal his feelings, and caught hold of thesheet himself. In this fashion the dead bride was carried down stairs,and laid upon a shutter on the top of a pile of bodies in the dead-cart.

  It was now almost dark, and as the cart started, the great clock of St.Paul's struck eight. St. Michael's, St Alban's, and the others took upthe sound; and the two young men paused to listen. For many weeks thesky had been clear, brilliant, and blue; but on this night dark cloudswere scudding in wild unrest across it, and the air was oppressinglyclose and sultry.

  "Where are you going now?" said Ormiston. "Are you for Whitehall's tonight?"

  "No!" said Sir Norman, rather dejectedly, turning to follow thepest-cart. "I am for the plague-pit in Finsbury fields!"

  "Nonsense, man!" exclaimed Ormiston, energetically, "what will take youthere? You surely are not mad enough to follow the body of that deadgirl?"

  "I shall follow it! You can come or not, just as you please."

  "Oh! if you are determined, I will go with you, of course; but it is thecraziest freak I ever heard of. After this, you need never laugh at me."

  "I never will," said Sir Norman, moodily; "for if you love a face youhave never seen, I love one I have only looked on when dead. Does itnot seem sacrilege to throw any one so like an angel into that horribleplague-pit?"

  "I never saw an angel," said Ormiston, as he and his friend startedto go after the dead-cart. "And I dare say there have been scores asbeautiful as that poor girl thrown into the plague-pit before now. Iwonder why the house has been deserted, and if she was really a bride.The bridegroom could not have loved her much, I fancy, or not even thepestilence could have scared him away."

  "But, Ormiston, what an extraordinary thing it is that it should beprecisely the same face that the fortune-teller showed me. There shewas alive, and here she is dead; so I've lost all faith in La Masque forever."

  Ormiston looked doubtful.

  "Are you quite sure it is the same, Kingsley?"

  "Quite sure?" said Sir Norman, indignantly. "Of course I am! Do youthink I could be mistaken is such a case? I tell you I would know thatface at Kamschatka or, the North Pole; for I don't believe there everwas such another created."

  "So be it, then! Your object, of course, in following that cart is, totake a last look at her?"

  "Precisely so. Don't talk; I feel in no mood for it just at present."

  Ormiston smiled to himself, and did not talk, accordingly; and insilence the two friends followed the gloomy dead-cart. A faint youngmoon, pale and sickly, was struggling dimly through drifts of darkclouds, and lighted the lonesome, dreary streets with a wan, wateryglimmer. For weeks, the weather had been brilliantly fine--the days allsunshine, the nights all moonlight; but now Ormiston, looking up at thetroubled face of the sky, concluded mentally that the Lord Mayor hadselected an unpropitious night for the grand illumination. Sir Norman,with his eyes on the pest-cart, and the long white figure therein, tookno heed of anything in the heaven above or in the earth beneath,and strode along in dismal silence till they reached, at last, theirjourney's end.

  As the cart stopped the two young men approached the edge of theplague-pit, and looked in with a shudder. Truly it was a horrible sight,that heaving, putrid sea of corruption; for the bodies of the miserablevictims were thrown in in cartfuls, and only covered with a handful ofearth and quicklime. Here and there, through the cracking and sinkingsurface, could be seen protruding a fair white arm, or a baby face,mingled with the long, dark tresses of maidens, the golden curls ofchildren, and the white hairs of old age. The pestilential effluviaarising from the dreadful mass was so overpowering that both shrankback, faint and sick, after a moment's survey. It was indeed as SirNorman had, said, a horrible grave wherein to lie.

  Meantime the driver, with an eye to business, and no time for suchnonsense as melancholy moralizing, had laid the body of the young girlon the ground, and briskly turned his cart and dumped the remainder ofhis load into the pit. Then, having flung a few handfuls of clay overit, he unwound the sheet, and kneeling beside the body, prepared toremove the jewels. The rays of the moon and his dark lantern fell on thelovely, snow-white face together, and Sir Norman groaned despairingly ashe saw its death-cold rigidity. The man had stripped the rings off thefingers, the bracelets off the arms; but as he was about to performthe same operation toward the necklace, he was stopped by a startlinginterruption enough. In his haste, the clasp entered the beautiful neck,inflicting a deep scratch, from which the blood spouted; and at the sameinstant the dead girl opened her eyes with a shrill cry. Uttering a yellof terror, as well he might, the man sprang back and gazed at her withhorror, believing that his sacrilegious robbery had brought the deadto life. Even the two young men--albeit, neither of them given tonervousness nor cowardice--recoiled for an instant, and stared aghast.Then, as the whole truth struck them, that the girl had been in a deepswoon and not dead, both simultaneously darted forward, and forgettingall fear of infection, knelt by her side. A pair of great, lustrousblack eyes were staring wildly around, and fixed themselves first on oneface and then on the other.

  "Where am I?" she exclaimed, with a terrified look, as she strove toraise herself on her elbow, and fell instantaneously back with a cryof agony, as she felt for the first time the throbbing anguish of thewound.

  "You are with friends, dear lady!" said Sir Norman, in a voice quitetremulous between astonishment and delight. "Fear nothing, for you shallbe saved."

  The great black eyes turned wildly upon him, while a fierce spasmconvulsed the beautiful face.

  "O, my God, I remember! I have the plague!" And, with a prolonged shriekof anguish, that thrilled even to the hardened heart of the dead-cartdriver, the girl fell back senseless again. Sir Norman Kingsleysprang to his feet, and with more the air of a frantic lunatic than aresponsible young English knight, caught the cold form in his arms, laidit in the dead-cart, and was about springing into the driver's seat,when that individual indignantly interposed.

  "Come, now; none of that! If you were the king himself, you shouldn'trun away with my cart in that fashion; so you just get out of my placeas fast as you can!"

  "My dear Kingsley, what are you about to do?" asked Ormiston, catchinghis excited friend by the arm.

  "Do!" exclaimed Sir Norman, in a high key. "Can't you see that foryourself! And I'm going to have that girl cured of the plague, if thereis such a thing as a doctor to be had for love or money in London."

  "You had better have her taken to the pest house at once, then; thereare chirurgeons and nurses enough there."

  "To the pest-house! Why man, I might as well have her thrown into theplague-pit there, at once! Not I! I shall have her taken to my ownhouse, and there properly cared for, and this good fellow will drive herthere instantly."

  Sir Norman backed this insinuation by putting a broad gold-piece intothe driver's hand, which instantly produced a magical effect on hisrather surly countenance.

  "Certainly, sir," he began, springing into his seat with alacrity."Where shall I drive the young lady to?"


  "Follow me," said Sir Norman. "Come along, Ormiston." And seizinghis friend by the arm, he hurried along with a velocity ratheruncomfortable, considering they both wore cloaks, and the night wasexcessively sultry. The gloomy vehicle and its fainting burden followedclose behind.

  "What do you mean to do with her?" asked Ormiston, as soon as he foundbreath enough to speak.

  "Haven't I told you?" said Sir Norman, impatiently. "Take her home, ofcourse."

  "And after that?"

  "Go for a doctor."

  "And after that?"

  "Take care of her till she gets well."

  "And after that?"

  "Why--find out her history, and all about her."

  "And after that?"

  "After that! After that! How do I know what after that!" exclaimed SirNorman, rather fiercely. "Ormiston, what do you mean?"

  Ormiston laughed.

  "And after that you'll marry her, I suppose!"

  "Perhaps I may, if she will have me. And what if I do?"

  "Oh, nothing! Only it struck me you may be saving another man's wife."

  "That's true!" said Sir Norman, in a subdued tone, "and if such shouldunhappily be the case, nothing will remain but to live in hopes that hemay be carried off by the plague."

  "Pray Heaven that we may not be carried off by it ourselves!" saidOrmiston, with a slight shudder. "I shall dream of nothing but thathorrible plague-pit for a week. If it were not for La Masque, I wouldnot stay another hour in this pest-stricken city."

  "Here we are," was Sir Norman's rather inapposite answer, as theyentered Piccadilly, and stopped before a large and handsome house, whosegloomy portal was faintly illuminated by a large lamp. "Here, my manjust carry the lady in."

  He unlocked the door as he spoke, and led the way across a long hall toa sleeping chamber, elegantly fitter up. The man placed the body on thebed and departed while Sir Norman, seizing a handbell, rang a peal thatbrought a staid-looking housekeeper to the scene directly. Seeing alady, young and beautiful, in bride robes, lying apparently dead on heryoung master's bed at that hour of the night, the discreet matron, overwhose virtuous head fifty years and a snow-white cap had passed, startedback with a slight scream.

  "Gracious me, Sir Norman! What on earth is the meaning of this?"

  "My dear Mrs. Preston," began Sir Norman blandly, "this young lady isill of the plague, and--"

  But all further explanation was cut short by a horrified shriek from theold lady, and a precipitate rush from the room. Down stairs she flew,informing the other servants as she went, between her screams, and whenSir Norman, in a violent rage, went in search of her five minutes after,he found not only the kitchen, but the whole house deserted.

  "Well," said Ormiston, as Sir Norman strode back, looking fiery hot andsavagely angry.

  "Well, they have all fled, every man and woman of them, the--" SirNorman ground out something not quite proper, behind his moustache. "Ishall have to go for the doctor, myself. Doctor Forbes is a friend ofmine, and lives near; and you," looking at him rather doubtfully, "wouldyou mind staying here, lest she should recover consciousness before Ireturn?"

  "To tell you the truth," said Ormiston, with charming frankness, "Ishould! The lady is extremely beautiful, I must own; but she looksuncomfortably corpse-like at this present moment. I do not wish to dieof the plague, either, until I see La Masque once more; and so if it isall the same to you, my dear friend, I will have the greatest pleasurein stepping round with you to the doctor's."

  Sir Norman, though he did not much approve of this, could not very wellobject, and the two sallied forth together. Walking a short distanceup Piccadilly, they struck off into a bye street, and soon reached thehouse they were in search of. Sir Norman knocked loudly at the door,which was opened by the doctor himself. Briefly and rapidly Sir Normaninformed him how and where his services were required; and the doctorbeing always provided with everything necessary for such cases, set outwith him immediately. Fifteen minutes after leaving his own house, SirNorman was back there again, and standing in his own chamber. But asimultaneous exclamation of amazement and consternation broke from himand Ormiston, as on entering the room they found the bed empty, and thelady gone!

  A dead pause followed, during which the three looked blankly at the bed,and then at each other. The scene, no doubt, would have been ludicrousenough to a third party; but neither of our trio could saw anythingwhatever to laugh at. Ormiston was the first to speak.

  "What in Heaven's name has happened!" he wonderingly exclaimed.

  "Some one has been here," said Sir Norman, turning very pale, "andcarried her off while we were gone."

  "Let us search the house," said the doctor; "you should have locked yourdoor, Sir Norman; but it may not be too late yet."

  Acting on the hint, Sir Norman seized the lamp burning on the table, andstarted on the search. His two friends followed him, and

  "The highest, the lowest, the loveliest spot, They searched for the lady, and found her not."

  No, though there was not the slightest trace of robbers or intruders,neither was there the slightest trace of the beautiful plague-patient.Everything in the house was precisely as it always was, but the silvershining vision was gone.