“I know nothing of him but his name.”
“Then do not seek to know,” said La Masque, emphatically. “For it is a secret you would tremble to hear. And now I must leave you. Come with me to the door, and fasten it as soon as I go out, lest you should forget it altogether.”
Leoline, with a dazed expression, thrust the precious little casket into the bosom of her dress, and taking up the lamp, preceded her visitor down stairs. At the door they paused, and La Masque, with her hand on her arm, repeated, in a low, earnest voice,
“Leoline, beware of Count L'Estrange, and become Lady Kingsley as soon as you can.”
“I will hear that name to-morrow!” thought Leoline, with a glad little thrill at her heart, as La Masque flitted out into the moonlight.
Leoline closed and locked the door, driving the bolts into their sockets, and making all secure. “I defy any one to get in again tonight!” she said, smiling at her own dexterity; and lamp in hand, she ran lightly up stairs to read the long unsolved riddle.
So eager was she, that she had crossed the room, laid the lamp on the table, and sat down before it, ere she became aware that she was not alone. Some one was leaning against the mantel, his arm on it, and his eyes do her, gazing with an air of incomparable coolness and ease. It was a man this time—something more than a man,—a count, and Count L'Estrange, at that!
Leoline sprang to her feet with a wild scream, a cry full of terror, amaze, and superstitious dread; and the count raised his band with a self-possessed smile.
“Pardon, fair Leoline, if I intrude! But have I not a right to come at all hours and visit my bride?”
“Leoline is no bride of yours!” retorted that young lady, passionately, her indignation overpowering both fear and surprise. “And, what is more, never will be! Now, sir!”