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"And what is the whole story; and why did she not tell it to me instead of you." "She told it to Leoline, thinking, probably, she had the most sense; and she told it to me, as Leoline's future husband. It is somewhat long to relate, but it will help to beguile the time while we are waiting for the royal summons."
She had scarcely looked at Sir Norman since she began to speak, but he had done enough looking for them both, never once taking his eyes from the handsome darkening face. He thought how strangely like her story was to Leoline's both shut in and isolated from the outer world.
It was lined with azure velvet, wrought with silver thread, in dainty wreathe of water lilies; and in the bottom, neatly folded, lay a sheet of foolscap. She opened it with nervous haste; it was a common sheet enough, stamped with fool's cap and bells, that showed it belonged to Cromwell's time. It was closely written, in a light, fair hand, and bore the title "Leoline's History."
"And yet La Masque told me to come here in search of her," interrupted Sir Norman. "Very true! That was odd wasn't it? This Prudence, it appears, was Leoline's nurse, and La Masque, too, seemed to have a certain authority over her; and between them, I learned she was to have been married this very night, and died or, at least, Prudence thought so an hour or two before the time."
The first words of the ceremony dropped from the prelate's urbane lips, and Sir Norman's heart danced a tarantella within him. "Wilt thou?" inquired the bishop, blandly, and slipped a plain gold ring on one pretty finger of Leoline's hand and all heard the old, old formula: "What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder!" And the whole mystic rite was over.
Apropos, Kingsley, who is that mysterious woman, La Masque?" "Her sister! And have you discovered Leoline's history?" "I have." "And her name!" "And her name. She is Leoline De Montmorenci!
We all know how hard it is to realize the death of a friend from whom we have but lately parted in full health and life, and Ormiston's death was so sudden. Why, it was not quite two hours since they had parted in Leoline's house, and even the plague could not carry off a victim as quickly as this. "Ormiston!
It is no idle curiosity that sent me here at this hour to ask impertinent questions, but a claim that I have upon you, stronger than that of any one else in the world." Leoline's beautiful eyes opened wider yet. "A claim upon me! How? Why? I do not understand." "All in good time. Will you tell me something of your past history, Leoline?" "Madame Masque, I have no history to tell.
Fearing lest the page should follow him, and thereby discover a clue to Leoline's abode, Sir Norman turned into a street some distance from the house, and waited in the shadow until he was out of sight. Then he came forth, and, full of impatience to get back to the ruin, hurried on to where he had left his horse.
The face was masked, the form stood erect and perfectly motionless, and the scream of surprise and consternation that arose to Leoline's lips died out in wordless terror. Her noiseless visitor perceived it, and touching her arm lightly with one little white hand, said in her sweetest and most exquisite of tones: "My child, do not tremble so, and do not look so deathly white.
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