The Midnight Queen - Page 32/177

So absorbed had Sir Norman been in his own mournful musings, that he

paid no attention whatever to those around him, and had nearly forgotten

their very presence, when one of them, with aloud cry, sprang to his

feet, and then fell writhing to the floor. The others, in dismay,

gathered abut him, but the ne=t instant fell back with a cry of, "He has

the plague!" At that dreaded announcement, half of them scampered off

incontinently; and the other half with the landlord at their head,

lifted the sufferer whose groans and cries were heart-rendering, and

carried him out of the house. Sir Norman, rather dismayed himself, had

risen to his feet, fully aroused from his reverie, and found himself

and another individual sole possessors of the premises. His companion he

could not very well make out; for he was sitting, or rather crouching,

in a remote and shadowy corner, where nothing was clearly visible but

the glare of a pair of fiery eyes. There was a great redundancy of hair,

too, about his head and face, indeed considerable more about the latter

than there seemed any real necessity for, and even with the imperfect

glimpse he caught of him the young man set him down in his own mind as

about as hard-looking a customer as he had ever seen. The fiery eyes

were glaring upon him like those of a tiger, through a jungle of bushy

hair, but their owner spoke never a word, though the other stared back

with compound interest. There they sat, beaming upon each other--one

fiercely, the other curiously, until the re-appearance of the landlord

with a very lugubrious and woebegone countenance. It struck Sir Norman

that it was about time to start for the ruin; and, with an eye to

business, he turned to cross-examine mine host a trifle.

"What have they done with that man?" he asked by way of preface.

"Sent him to the pest-house," replied the landlord, resting his elbows

on the counter and his chin in his hands, and staring dismally at the

opposite wall. "Ah! Lord 'a' mercy on us I these be dreadful times!"

"Dreadful enough!" said Sir Norman, sighing deeply, as he thought of

his beautiful Leoline, a victim of the merciless pestilence. "Have there

been many deaths here of the distemper?"

"Twenty-five to-day!" groaned the man. "Lord! what will become of us?"

"You seem rather disheartened," said Sir Norman, pouring out a glass of

wine and handing it to him. "Just drink this, and don't borrow trouble.

They say sack is a sure specific against the plague."

Mine host drained the bumper, and wiped his mouth, with another hollow

groan.

"If I thought that, sir, I'd not be sober from one week's end to

t'other; but I know well enough I will be in a plague-pit in less than a

week. O Lord! have mercy on us!"