He could scarcely believe that it was the calm majesty of death that so changed the expression of that white face, and yet, the longer he looked, the more deeply an inward conviction assured him that it was so.He chafed the chilling hands and face, he applied hartshorn and burnt feathers to the nostrils, but all these applications, though excellent in their way, could not exactly raise the dead to life, and, in this case, proved a signal, failure.He gave up his doctoring, at last, in despair, and folding his arms, looked down at what lay on the table, and tried to convince himself that it was Ormiston.So absorbed was he in the endeavor, that he heeded not the passing moments, until it struck him with a shock that Hubert might even now be waiting for him at the trysting-place, with news of Leoline.Love is stronger than friendship, stronger than grief, stronger than death, stronger than every other feeling in the world; so he suddenly seized his bat, turned his back on Ormiston and the apothecary's shop, and strode oft to the place he had quitted.
No Hubert was there, but two figures were passing slowly along in the moonlight, and one of them he recognized, with an impulse to spring at him like a tiger and strangle him.But he had been so shocked and subdued by his recent discovery, that the impulse which, half an hour before, would have been unhesitatingly obeyed, went for nothing, now; and there was more of reproach, even, than anger in his voice, as he went over and laid his hand on the shoulder of one of them.
"Stay!" he said."One word with you, Count L'Estrange.What have you done with Leoline!""Ah! Sir Norman, as I live!" cried the count wheeling round and lifting his hat."Give me good even - or rather, good morning -Kingsley, for St.Paul's has long gone the midnight hour."Sir Norman, with his hand still on his shoulder, returned not the courtesy, and regarding the gallant count with a stern eye.
"Where is Leoline?" he frigidly repeated.
"Really," said the count, with some embarrassment,"you attack me so unexpectedly, and so like a ghost or a highwayman - by the way I have a word to say to you about highwaymen, and was seeking you to say it.""Where is Leoline?" shouted the exasperated young knight, releasing his shoulder, and clutching him by the throat."Tell me or, by Heaven! I'll pitch you neck and heels into the Thames!"Instantly the sword of the count's companion flashed in the moonlight, and, in two seconds more, its blue blade would have ended the earthly career of Sir Norman Kingsley, had not the count quickly sprang back, and made a motion for his companion to hold.
"Wait!" he cried, commandingly, with his arm outstretched to each."Keep off! George, sheathe your sword and stand aside.
Sir Norman Kingsley, one word with you, and be it in peace.""There can be no peace between us," replied that aggravated young gentleman, fiercely "until you tell me what has become of Leoline.""All in good time.We have a listener, and does it mot strike you our conference should be private!""Public or private, it matters not a jot, so that you tell me what you've done with Leoline," replied Sir Norman, with whom it was evident getting beyond this question was a moral and physical impossibility."And if you do not give an account of yourself, I'll run you through as sure as your name is Count L'Estrange!"A strange sort of smile came over the face of the count at this direful threat, as if he fancied in that case, he was safe enough; but Sir Norman, luckily, did not see it, and heard only the suave reply:
"Certainly, Sir Norman; I shall be delighted to do so.Let us stand over there in the shadow of that arch; and, George, do you remain here within call."The count blandly waved Sir Norman to follow, which Sir Norman did, with much the mein of a sulky lion; and, a moment after, both were facing each other within the archway.
"Well!" cried the young knight, impatiently; "I am waiting.Go on!""My dear Kingsley," responded the count, in his easy way, "Ithink you are laboring under a little mistake.I have nothing to go on about; it is you who are to begin the controversy.""Do you dare to play with me?" exclaimed Sir Norman, furiously.
"I tell you to take care how you speak! What have you done with Leoline?""That is the fourth or fifth time that you've asked me that question," said the count, with provoking indifference."What do you imagine I have done with her?"Sir Norman's feelings, which had been rising ever since their meeting, got up to such a height at this aggravating question, that he gave vent to an oath, and laid his hand on him sword; but the count's hand lightly interposed before it came out.
"Not yet, Sir Norman.Be calm; talk rationally.What do you accuse me of doing with Leoline?""Do you dare deny having carried her off?""Deny it? No; I am never afraid to father my own deeds.""Ah!" said Sir Norman grinding his teeth."Then you acknowledge it?""I acknowledge it - yes.What next?"
The perfect composure of his tone fell like a cool, damp towel on the fire of Sir Norman's wrath.It did not quite extinguish the flame, however - only quenched it a little - and it still hissed hotly underneath.
"And you dare to stand before me and acknowledge such an act?"exclaimed Sir Norman, perfectly astounded at the cool assurance of the man.
