"And after that?"
"After that! After that! How do I know what after that!" exclaimed Sir
Norman, 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 should
unhappily be the case, nothing will remain but to live in hopes that he
may be carried off by the plague."
"Pray Heaven that we may not be carried off by it ourselves!" said
Ormiston, with a slight shudder. "I shall dream of nothing but that
horrible plague-pit for a week. If it were not for La Masque, I would
not stay another hour in this pest-stricken city."
"Here we are," was Sir Norman's rather inapposite answer, as they
entered Piccadilly, and stopped before a large and handsome house, whose
gloomy portal was faintly illuminated by a large lamp. "Here, my man
just carry the lady in."
He unlocked the door as he spoke, and led the way across a long hall to
a sleeping chamber, elegantly fitter up. The man placed the body on the
bed and departed while Sir Norman, seizing a handbell, rang a peal that
brought a staid-looking housekeeper to the scene directly. Seeing a
lady, young and beautiful, in bride robes, lying apparently dead on her
young master's bed at that hour of the night, the discreet matron, over
whose virtuous head fifty years and a snow-white cap had passed, started
back 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 is
ill of the plague, and--"
But all further explanation was cut short by a horrified shriek from the
old lady, and a precipitate rush from the room. Down stairs she flew,
informing the other servants as she went, between her screams, and when
Sir 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 and
savagely angry.
"Well, they have all fled, every man and woman of them, the--" Sir
Norman ground out something not quite proper, behind his moustache. "I
shall have to go for the doctor, myself. Doctor Forbes is a friend of
mine, and lives near; and you," looking at him rather doubtfully, "would
you mind staying here, lest she should recover consciousness before I
return?"
"To tell you the truth," said Ormiston, with charming frankness, "I
should! The lady is extremely beautiful, I must own; but she looks
uncomfortably corpse-like at this present moment. I do not wish to die
of the plague, either, until I see La Masque once more; and so if it is
all the same to you, my dear friend, I will have the greatest pleasure
in stepping round with you to the doctor's."