"Rest assured, I shall do so for the future," said Leoline, with a
look that would have reminded Sir Nor man of Miranda had he seen it.
"I scarcely expected the honor of any more visits, particularly from
strangers to-night."
"Civil, that! Will you ask me to sit down, or am I to consider myself an
unseasonable intruder, and depart?"
"Madame, will you do me the honor to be seated. The hour, as you say, is
somewhat unseasonable, and you will oblige me by letting me know to what
I am indebted for the pleasure of this visit, as quickly as possible."
There was something quite dignified about Mistress Leoline as she swept
rustling past La Masque, sank into the pillowy depths of her lounge, and
motioned her visitor to a seat with a slight and graceful wave of her
hand. Not but that in her secret heart she was a good deal frightened,
for something under her pink satin corsage was going pit-a-pat at a
wonderful rate; but she thought that betraying such a feeling would not
be the thing. Perhaps the tall, dark figure saw it, and smiled behind
her mask; but outwardly she only leaned lightly against the back of the
chair, and glanced discreetly at the door.
"Are you sure we are quite alone?"
"Quite:"
"Because," said La Masque, in her low, silvery tones, "what I have come
to say is not for the ears of any third person living:"
"We are entirely alone, madame," replied Leoline, opening her black eyes
very wide. "Prudence is gone, and I do not know when she will be back."
"Prudence will never come back," said La Masque, quietly.
"Madame!"
"My dear, do not look so shocked--it is not her fault. You know she
deserted you for fear of the plague."
"Yes, yes!"
"Well, that did not save her; nay, it even brought on what she dreaded
so much. Your nurse is plague-stricken, my dear, and lies ill unto death
in the pesthouse in Finsbury Fields."
"Oh, dreadful!" exclaimed Leoline, while every drop of blood fled from
her face. "My poor, poor old nurse!"
"Your poor, poor old nurse left you without much tenderness when she
thought you dying of the same disease," said La Masque, quietly.
"Oh, that is nothing. The suddenness, the shock drove her to it. My
poor, dear Prudence."
"Well, you can do nothing for her now," said La Masque, in a tone of
slight impatience. "Prudence is beyond all human aid, and so--let her
rest in peace. You were carried to the plague-pit yourself, for dead,
were you not?"
"Yes," answered the pale lips, while she shivered all over at the
recollection.
"And was saved by--by whom were you saved, my dear?"
"By two gentlemen."
"Oh, I know that; what were their names?"