"Why, my dear Ormiston, you surely are not so far gone as that? Upon my
honor, I had no idea you were in such a bad way."
"I am nothing but a miserable wretch! and I wish to Heaven I was in
yonder dead-cart, with the rest of them--and she, too, if she never
intends to love me!"
Ormiston spoke with such fierce earnestness, that there was no doubting
his sincerity; and Sir Norman became profoundly shocked--so much so,
that he did not speak again until they were almost at the door. Then he
opened his lips to ask, in a subdued tone:
"She has predicted the future for you--what did she foretell?"
"Nothing good; no fear of there being anything in store for such an
unlucky dog as I am."
"Where did she learn this wonderful black art of hers?"
"In the East, I believe. She has been there and all over the world; and
now visits England for the first time."
"She has chosen a sprightly season for her visit. Is she not afraid of
the plague, I wonder?"
"No; she fears nothing," said Ormiston, as he knocked loudly at the
door. "I begin to believe she is made of adamant instead of what other
women are made of."
"Which is a rib, I believe," observed Sir Norman, thoughtfully. "And
that accounts, I dare say, for their being of such a crooked and
cantankerous nature. They're a wonderful race women are; and for what
Inscrutable reason it has pleased Providence to create them--"
The opening of the door brought to a sudden end this little touch of
moralizing, and a wrinkled old porter thrust out a very withered and
unlovely face.
"La Masque at home?" inquired Ormiston, stepping in, without ceremony.
The old man nodded, and pointed up stairs; and with a "This way,
Kingsley," Ormiston sprang lightly up, three at a time, followed in the
same style by Sir Norman.
"You seem pretty well acquainted with the latitude and longitude of this
place," observed that young gentleman, as they passed into a room at the
head of the stairs.
"I ought to be; I've been here often enough," said Ormiston. "This is
the common waiting-room for all who wish to consult La Masque. That old
bag of bones who let us in has gone to announce us."
Sir Norman took a seat, and glanced curiously round the room. It was
a common-place apartment enough, with a floor of polished black oak,
slippery as ice, and shining like glass; a few old Flemish paintings on
the walls; a large, round table in the centre of the floor, on which
lay a pair of the old musical instruments called "virginals." Two large,
curtainless windows, with minute diamond-shaped panes, set in leaden
casements, admitted the golden and crimson light.