"How those fires blaze! It is much brighter than at noon-day. Show me
the house in which Leoline lies?".
Ormiston easily pointed it out, and showed the earl the light still
burning in her window.
"It was in that room we found her first, dead of the plague!"
"Dead of the what?" cried the earl, aghast.
"Dead of the plague! I'll tell your lordship how it was," said Ormiston,
who forthwith commend and related the story of their finding Leoline;
of the resuscitation at the plague-pit; of the flight from Sir Norman's
house, and of the delirious plunge into the river, and miraculous cure.
"A marvelous story," commented the earl, much interested. "And Leoline
seems to have as many lives as a cat! Who can she be--a princess in
disguise--eh, Ormiston?"
"She looks fit to be a princess, or anything else; but your lordship
knows as much about her, now, as I do."
"You say she was dressed as a bride--how came that?"
"Simply enough. She was to be married to-night, had she not taken the
plague instead."
"Married? Why, I thought you told me a few minutes ago she was in love
with Kingsley. It seems to me, Mr. Ormiston, your remarks are a trifle
inconsistent," said the earl, in a tone of astonished displeasure.
"Nevertheless, they are all perfectly true. Mistress Leoline was to be
married, as I told you; but she was to marry to please her friends, and
not herself. She had been in the habit of watching Kingsley go past
her window; and the way she blushed, and went through the other little
motions, convinces me that his course of true love will ran as smooth as
this glassy river runs at present."
"Kingsley is a lucky fellow. Will the discarded suitor have no voice in
the matter; or is he such a simpleton as to give her up at a word?"
Ormiston laughed.
"Ah! to be sure; what will the count say? And, judging from some things
I've heard, I should say he is violently in love with her."
"Count who?" asked Rochester. "Or has he, like his ladylove, no other
name?"
"Oh, no! The name of the gentleman who was so nearly blessed for life,
and missed it, is Count L'Estrange!"
The earl had been lying listlessly back, only half intent upon his
answer, as he watched the fire; but now he sprang sharply up, and stared
Ormiston full in the face.
"Count what did you say?" was his eager question, while his eyes, more
eager than his voice, strove to read the reply before it was repeated.
"Count L'Estrange. You know him, my lord?" said Ormiston, quietly.
"Ah!" said the earl. And then such a strange meaning smile went
wandering about his face. "I have not said that! So his name is Count
L'Estrange? Well, I don't wonder now at the girl's beauty."