The Midnight Queen - Page 135/177

Who could it be? Not Count L'Estrange, for he would surely not need

to enter his own house like a burglar--not Sir Norman Kingsley, for he

could certainly not find out her abduction and her prison so soon, and

she had no other friends in the whole wide world to trouble themselves

about her. There was one, but the idea of ever seeing her again was so

unspeakably dreadful, that she would rather have seen the most horrible

spectre her imagination could conjure up, than that tall, graceful,

rich-robed form.

Still the noises perseveringly continued; there was the sound of

withdrawing bolts, and then a pale ray of moonlight shot between the

parted curtains, shoving the shutters had been opened. Whiter and whiter

Leoline grew, and she felt herself growing cold and rigid with mortal

fear. Softly the window was raised, a hand stole in and parted the

curtains, and a pale face and two great dark eyes wandered slowly round

the room, and rested at last on her, standing, like a galvanized corpse,

as far from the window as the wall would permit. The hand was lifted in

a warning gesture, as if to enforce silence; the window was raised still

higher, a figure, lithe and agile as a cat, sprang lightly into the

room, and standing with his back to her, re-closed the shutters, re-shut

the window, and re-drew the curtains, before taking the trouble to turn

round.

This discreet little manoeuvre, which showed her visitor was human, and

gifted with human prudence, re-assured Leoline a little; and, to judge

by the reverse of the medal, the nocturnal intruder was nothing

very formidable after all. But the stranger did not keep her long in

suspense; while she stood gazing at him, as if fascinated, he turned

round, stepped forward, took off his cap, made her a courtly bow,

and then straightening himself up, prepared, with great coolness, to

scrutinize and be scrutinized.

Well might they look at each other; for the two faces were perfectly the

same, and each one saw himself and herself as others saw them. There was

the same coal-black, curling hair; the same lustrous dark eyes; the

same clear, colorless complexion, the same delicate, perfect features;

nothing was different but the costume and the expression. That latter

was essentially different, for the young lady's betrayed amazement,

terror, doubt, and delight all at once; while the young gentleman's was

a grand, careless surprise, mixed with just a dash of curiosity.

He was the first to speak; and after they had stared at each other for

the space of five minutes, he described a graceful sweep with his hand,

and held forth in the following strain, "I greatly fear, fair Leoline, that I have startled you by my sudden and

surprising entrance; and if I have been the cause of a moment's alarm

to one so perfectly beautiful, I shall hate myself for ever after. If I

could have got in any other way, rest assured I would not have risked my

neck and your peace of mind by such a suspicious means of ingress as the

window; but if you will take the trouble to notice, the door is thick,

and I am composed of too solid flesh to whisk through the keyhole; so I

had to make my appearance the best way I could."