“You did wrong, Prudence,” said La Masque, sternly, or at least as sternly as so sweet a voice could speak; “you did very wrong to leave her in such a way. You should have come to me at once, and told me all.”
“But, madame, I was so frightened!”
“Bah! You are nothing but a coward. Come into this doorway, and tell me all about it.”
Ormiston drew back as the twain approached, and entered the deep portals of La Masque's own doorway. He could see them both by the aforesaid faint lamplight, and he noticed that La Masque's companion was a wrinkled old woman, that would not trouble the peace of mind of the most jealous lover in Christendom. Perhaps it was not just the thing to hover aloof and listen; but he could not for the life of him help it; and stand and listen he accordingly did. Who knew but this nocturnal conversation might throw some light on the dark mystery he was anxious to see through, and, could his ears have run into needle-points to hear the better, he would have had the operation then and there performed. There was a moment's silence after the two entered the portal, during which La Masque stood, tall, dark, and commanding, motionless as a marble column; and the little withered old specimen of humanity beside her stood gazing up at her with something between fear and fascination.
“Do you know what has become of your charge, Prudence?” asked the low, vibrating voice of La Masque, at last.
“How could I, madame? You know I fled from the house, and I dared not go back. Perhaps she is there still.”
“Perhaps she is not? Do you suppose that sharp shriek of yours was unheard? No; she was found; and what do you suppose has become of her?”
The old woman looked up, and seemed to read in the dark, stern figure, and the deep solemn voice, the fatal truth. She wrung her hands with a sort of cry.
“Oh! I know, I know; they have put her in the dead-cart, and buried her in the plague-pit. O my dear, sweet young mistress.”
“If you had stayed by your dear, sweet young mistress, instead of running screaming away as you did, it might not have happened,” said La Masque, in a tone between derision and contempt.