When Mr. Malcolm Ormiston, with his usual good sense and penetration,
took himself off, and left Leoline and Sir Norman tete-a-tete, his
steps turned as mechanically as the needle to the North Pole toward La
Masque's house. Before it he wandered, around it he wandered, like an
uneasy ghost, lost in speculation about the hidden face, and fearfully
impatient about the flight of time. If La Masque saw him hovering aloof
and unable to tear himself away, perhaps it might touch her obdurate
heart, and cause her to shorten the dreary interval, and summon him to
her presence at once. Just then some one opened the door, and his heart
began to beat with anticipation; some one pronounced his name, and,
going over, he saw the animated bag of bones--otherwise his lady-love's
vassal and porter.
"La Masque says," began the attenuated lackey, and Ormiston's heart
nearly jumped out of his mouth, "that she can't have anybody hanging
about her house like its shadow; and she wants you to go away, and keep
away, till the time comes she has mentioned."
So saying the skeleton shut the door, and Ormiston's heart went down to
zero. There being nothing for it but obedience, however, he slowly and
reluctantly turned away, feeling in his bones, that if ever he came to
the bliss and ecstasy of calling La Masque Mrs. Ormiston, the gray mare
in his stable would be by long odds the better horse. Unintentionally
his steps turned to the water-side, and he descended the flight of
stairs, determined to get into a boat and watch the illumination from
the river.
Late as was the hour, the Thames seemed alive with wherries and barges,
and their numerous lights danced along the surface like fire-flies over
a marsh. A gay barge, gilded and cushioned, was going slowly past; and
as he stood directly under the lamp, he was recognized by a gentleman
within it, who leaned over and hailed him, "Ormiston! I say, Ormiston!"
"Well, my lord," said Ormiston, recognizing the handsome face and
animated voice of the Earl of Rochester.
"Have you any engagement for the next half-hour? If not, do me the favor
to 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 will
be successful?"
"Not the least. You know, my lord, the prediction runs, that the plague
will rage till the living are no longer able to bury the dead."
"It will soon come to that," said the earl shuddering slightly, "if it
continues increasing much longer as it does now daily. How do the bills
of mortality ran to-day?"