<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER XVIII. THE INTERVIEW. </h2>
<p>I am not aware whether fainting was as much the fashion among the fair
sex, in the days (or rather the nights) of which I have the honor to hold
forth, as at the present time; but I am inclined to think not, from the
simple fact that Leoline, though like John Bunyan, "grievously troubled
and tossed about in her mind," did nothing of the kind. For the first few
moments, she was altogether too stunned by the suddenness of the shock to
cry out or make the least resistance, and was conscious of nothing but of
being rapidly borne along in somebody's arms. When this hazy view of
things passed away, her new sensation was, the intensely uncomfortable one
of being on the verge of suffocation. She made one frantic but futile
effort to free herself and scream for help, but the strong arms held her
with most loving tightness, and her cry was drowned in the hot atmosphere
within the shawl, and never passed beyond it. Most assuredly Leoline would
have been smothered then and there, had their journey been much longer;
but, fortunately for her, it was only the few yards between her house and
the river. She knew she was then carried down some steps, and she heard
the dip of the oars in the water, and then her bearer paused, and went
through a short dialogue with somebody else—with Count L'Estrange,
she rather felt than knew, for nothing was audible but a low murmur. The
only word she could make out was a low, emphatic "Remember!" in the
count's voice, and then she knew she was in a boat, and that it was shoved
off, and moving down the rapid river. The feeling of heat and suffocation
was dreadful and as her abductor placed her on some cushions, she made
another desperate but feeble effort to free herself from the smothering
shawl, but a hand was laid lightly on hers, and a voice interposed.</p>
<p>"Lady, it is quite useless for you to struggle, as you are irrevocably in
my power, but if you will promise faithfully not to make any outcry, and
will submit to be blindfolded, I shall remove this oppressive muffling
from your head. Tell me if you will promise."</p>
<p>He had partly raised the shawl, and a gush of free air came revivingly in,
and enabled Leoline to gasp out a faint "I promise!" As she spoke, it was
lifted off altogether, and she caught one bright fleeting glimpse of the
river, sparkling and silvery in the moonlight; of the bright blue sky,
gemmed with countless stars, and of some one by her side in the dress of a
court-page, whose face was perfectly unknown to her. The next instant, a
bandage was bound tightly over her eyes, excluding every ray of light,
while the strange voice again spoke apologetically,</p>
<p>"Pardon, lady, but it is my orders! I am commanded to treat you with every
respect, but not to let you see where you are borne to."</p>
<p>"By what right does Count L'Estrange commit this outrage!" began Leoline,
almost as imperiously as Miranda herself, and making use of her tongue,
like a true woman, the very first moment it was at her disposal. "How dare
he carry me off in this atrocious way? Whoever you are, sir, if you have
the spirit of a man, you will bring me directly back to my own house."</p>
<p>"I am very sorry, lady, but I have received orders that must be obeyed!
You must come with me, but you need fear nothing; you will be as safe and
secure as in your own home."</p>
<p>"Secure enough, no doubt!" said Leoline, bitterly. "I never did like Count
L'Estrange, but I never knew he was a coward and a villain till now!"</p>
<p>Her companion made no reply to this forcible address, and there was a
moment's indignant silence on Leoline's part, broken only by the dip of
the oars, and the rippling of the water. Then,</p>
<p>"Will you not tell me, at least, where you are taking me to?" haughtily
demanded Leoline.</p>
<p>"Lady, I cannot! It was to prevent you knowing, that you have been
blindfolded."</p>
<p>"Oh! your master has a faithful servant, I see! How long am I to be kept a
prisoner?"</p>
<p>"I do not know."</p>
<p>"Where is Count L'Estrange?"</p>
<p>"I cannot tell."</p>
<p>"Where am I to see him?"</p>
<p>"I cannot say."</p>
<p>"Ha!" said Leoline, with infinite contempt, and turning her back upon him
she relapsed into gloomy silence. It had all been so sudden, and had taken
her so much by surprise, that she had not had time to think of the
consequences until now. But now they came upon her with a rush, and with
dismal distinctness; and most distinct among all was, what would Sir
Norman say! Of course, with all a lover's impatience, he would be at his
post by sunrise, would come to look for his bride, and find himself sold!
By that time she would be far enough away, perhaps a melancholy corpse
(and at this dreary passage in her meditations, Leoline sighed
profoundly), and he would never know what had become of her, or how much
and how long she had loved him. And this hateful Count L'Estrange, what
did he intend to do with her? Perhaps go so far as to make her marry him,
and imprison her with the rest of his wives; for Leoline was prepared to
think the very worst of the count, and had not the slightest doubt that he
already had a harem full of abducted wives, somewhere. But no—he
never could do that, he might do what he liked with weaker minds, but she
never would be a bride of his while the plague or poison was to be had in
London. And with this invincible determination rooted fixedly, not to say
obstinately, in her mind, she was nearly pitched overboard by the boat
suddenly landing at some unexpected place. A little natural scream of
terror was repressed on her lips by a hand being placed over them, and the
determined but perfectly respectful tones of the person beside her
speaking.</p>
<p>"Remember your promise, lady, and do not make a noise. We have arrived at
our journey's end, and if you will take my arm, I will lead you along,
instead of carrying you."</p>
<p>Leoline was rather surprised to find the journey so short, but she arose
directly, with silence and dignity—at least with as much of the
latter commodity as could be reasonably expected, considering that boats
on water are rather unsteady things to be dignified in—and was led
gently and with care out of the swaying vessel, and up another flight of
stairs. Then, in a few moments, she was conscious of passing from the free
night air into the closer atmosphere of a house; and in going through an
endless labyrinth of corridors, and passages, and suites of rooms, and
flights of stairs, until she became so extremely tired, that she stopped
with spirited abruptness, and in the plainest possible English, gave her
conductor to understand that they had gone about far enough for all
practical purposes. To which that patient and respectful individual
replied that he was glad to inform her they had but a few more steps to
go, which the next moment proved to be true, for he stopped and announced
that their promenade was over for the night.</p>
<p>"And I suppose I may have the use of my eyes at last?" inquired Leoline,
with more haughtiness than Sir Norman could have believed possible so
gentle a voice could have expressed.</p>
<p>For reply, her companion rapidly untied the bandage, and withdrew it with
a flourish. The dazzling brightness that burst upon her, so blinded her,
that for a moment she could distinguish nothing; and when she looked round
to contemplate her companion, she found him hurriedly making his exit, and
securely locking the door.</p>
<p>The sound of the key turning in the lock gave her a most peculiar
sensation, which none but those who have experienced it can properly
understand. It is not the most comfortable feeling in the world to know
you are a prisoner, even if you have no key turned upon you but the
weather, and your jailer be a high east wind and lashing rain. Leoline's
prison and jailer were something worse; and, for the first time, a chill
of fear and dismay crept icily to the core of her heart. But Leoline had
something of Miranda's courage, as well as her looks and temper; so she
tried to feel as brave as possible, and not think of her unpleasant
predicament while there remained anything else to think about. Perhaps she
might escape, too; and, as this notion struck her, she looked with eager
anxiety, not unmixed with curiosity, at the place where she was. By this
time, her eyes had been accustomed to the light, which proceeded from a
great antique lamp of bronze, pendent by a brass chain from the ceiling;
and she saw she was in a moderately sized and by no means splendid room.
But what struck her most was, that everything had a look of age about it,
from the glittering oak beams of the floor to the faded ghostly hangings
on the wall. There was a bed at one end—a great spectral ark of a
thing, like a mausoleum, with drapery as old and spectral as that on the
walls, and in which she could no more have lain than in a moth-eaten
shroud. The seats and the one table the room held were of the same ancient
and weird pattern, and the sight of them gave her a shivering sensation
not unlike an ague chill. There was but one door—a huge structure,
with shining panels, securely locked; and escape from that quarter was
utterly out of the question. There was one window, hung with dark curtains
of tarnished embroidery, but in pushing them aside, she met only a dull
blank of unlighted glass, for the shutters were firmly secured without.
Altogether, she could not form the slightest idea where she was; and, with
a feeling of utter despair, she sat down on one of the queer old chairs,
with much the same feeling as if she were sitting in a tomb.</p>
<p>What would Sir Norman say? What would he ever think of her, when he found
her gone. And what was destined to be her fate in this dreadful
out-of-the-way place? She would have cried, as most of her sex would be
tempted to do in such a situation, but that her dislike and horror of
Count L'Estrange was a good deal stronger than her grief, and turned her
tears to sparks of indignant fire. Never, never, never! would she be his
wife! He might kill her a thousand times, if he liked, and she wouldn't
yield an inch. She did not mind dying in a good cause; she could do it but
once. And with Sir Norman despising her, as she felt he must do, when he
found her run away, she rather liked the idea than otherwise. Mentally,
she bade adieu to all her friends before beginning to prepare for her
melancholy fate—to her handsome lover, to his gallant friend
Ormiston, to her poor nurse, Prudence, and to her mysterious visitor, La
Masque.</p>
<p>La Masque! Ah! that name awoke a new chord of recollection—the
casket, she had it with her yet. Instantly, everything was forgotten but
it and its contents; and she placed a chair directly under the lamp, drew
it out, and looked at it. It was a pretty little bijou itself, with its
polished ivory surface, and shining clasps of silver. But the inside had
far more interest for her than the outside, and she fitted the key and
unlocked it with a trembling hand. 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."</p>
<p>Leoline's hand trembled so with eagerness, she could scarcely hold the
paper; but her eye rapidly ran from line to line, and she stopped not till
she reached the end. While she read, her face alternately flushed and
paled, her eyes dilated, her lips parted; and before she finished it,
there came over all a look of the most unutterable horror. It dropped from
her powerless fingers as she finished; and she sank back in her chair with
such a ghastly paleness, that it seemed absolutely like the lividness of
death.</p>
<p>A sudden and startling noise awoke her from her trance of horror—some
one trying to get in at the window! The chill of terror it sent through
every vein acted as a sort of counter-irritant to the other feeling, and
she sprang from her chair and turned her face fearfully toward the sounds.
But in all her terror she did not forget the mysterious sheet of foolscap,
which lay, looking up at her, on the floor; and she snatched it up, and
thrust it and the casket out of sight. Still the sounds went on, but
softly and cautiously; and at intervals, as if the worker were afraid of
being heard. Leoline went back, step by step, to the other extremity of
the room, with her eyes still fixed on the window, and on her face a white
terror, that left her perfectly colorless.</p>
<p>Who could it be? Not Count L'Estrange, for he would surely not need to
enter his own house like a burglar—not Sir Norman Kingsley, for he
could certainly not find out her abduction and her prison so soon, and she
had no other friends in the whole wide world to trouble themselves about
her. There was one, but the idea of ever seeing her again was so
unspeakably dreadful, that she would rather have seen the most horrible
spectre her imagination could conjure up, than that tall, graceful,
rich-robed form.</p>
<p>Still the noises perseveringly continued; there was the sound of
withdrawing bolts, and then a pale ray of moonlight shot between the
parted curtains, shoving the shutters had been opened. Whiter and whiter
Leoline grew, and she felt herself growing cold and rigid with mortal
fear. Softly the window was raised, a hand stole in and parted the
curtains, and a pale face and two great dark eyes wandered slowly round
the room, and rested at last on her, standing, like a galvanized corpse,
as far from the window as the wall would permit. The hand was lifted in a
warning gesture, as if to enforce silence; the window was raised still
higher, a figure, lithe and agile as a cat, sprang lightly into the room,
and standing with his back to her, re-closed the shutters, re-shut the
window, and re-drew the curtains, before taking the trouble to turn round.</p>
<p>This discreet little manoeuvre, which showed her visitor was human, and
gifted with human prudence, re-assured Leoline a little; and, to judge by
the reverse of the medal, the nocturnal intruder was nothing very
formidable after all. But the stranger did not keep her long in suspense;
while she stood gazing at him, as if fascinated, he turned round, stepped
forward, took off his cap, made her a courtly bow, and then straightening
himself up, prepared, with great coolness, to scrutinize and be
scrutinized.</p>
<p>Well might they look at each other; for the two faces were perfectly the
same, and each one saw himself and herself as others saw them. There was
the same coal-black, curling hair; the same lustrous dark eyes; the same
clear, colorless complexion, the same delicate, perfect features; nothing
was different but the costume and the expression. That latter was
essentially different, for the young lady's betrayed amazement, terror,
doubt, and delight all at once; while the young gentleman's was a grand,
careless surprise, mixed with just a dash of curiosity.</p>
<p>He was the first to speak; and after they had stared at each other for the
space of five minutes, he described a graceful sweep with his hand, and
held forth in the following strain,</p>
<p>"I greatly fear, fair Leoline, that I have startled you by my sudden and
surprising entrance; and if I have been the cause of a moment's alarm to
one so perfectly beautiful, I shall hate myself for ever after. If I could
have got in any other way, rest assured I would not have risked my neck
and your peace of mind by such a suspicious means of ingress as the
window; but if you will take the trouble to notice, the door is thick, and
I am composed of too solid flesh to whisk through the keyhole; so I had to
make my appearance the best way I could."</p>
<p>"Who are you?" faintly asked Leoline.</p>
<p>"Your friend, fair lady, and Sir Norman Kingsley's."</p>
<p>Hubert looked to see Leoline start and blush, and was deeply gratified to
see her do both; and her whole pretty countenance became alive with
new-born hope, as if that name were a magic talisman of freedom and joy.</p>
<p>"What is your name, and who are you?" she inquired, in a breathless sort
of way, that made Hubert look at her a moment in calm astonishment.</p>
<p>"I have told you your friend; christened at some remote period, Hubert.
For further particulars, apply to the Earl of Rochester, whose page I am."</p>
<p>"The Earl of Rochester's page!" she repeated, in the same quick, excited
way, that surprised and rather lowered her in that good youth's opinion,
for giving way to any feelings so plebeian. "It is—it must be the
same!"</p>
<p>"I have no doubt of it," said Hubert. "The same what?"</p>
<p>"Did you not come from France—from Dijon, recently?" went on
Leoline, rather inappositely, as it struck her hearer.</p>
<p>"Certainly I came from Dijon. Had I the honor of being known to you
there?"</p>
<p>"How strange! How wonderful!" said Leoline, with a paling cheek and
quickened breathing. "How mysterious those things turn out I Thank Heaven
that I have found some one to love at last!"</p>
<p>This speech, which was Greek, algebra, high Dutch, or thereabouts, to
Master Hubert, caused him to stare to such an extent, that when he came to
think of it afterward, positively shocked him. The two great, wondering
dark eyes transfixing her with so much amazement, brought Leoline to a
sense of her talking unfathomable mysteries, quite incomprehensible to her
handsome auditor. She looked at him with a smile, held out her hand; and
Hubert received a strange little electric thrill, to see that her eyes
were full of tears. He took the hand and raised it to his lips, wondering
if the young lady, struck by his good looks, had conceived a rash and
inordinate attack of love at first sight, and was about to offer herself
to him and discard Sir Norman for ever. From this speculation, the sweet
voice aroused him.</p>
<p>"You have told me who you are. Now, do you know who I am?"</p>
<p>"I hope so, fairest Leoline. I know you are the most beautiful lady in
England, and to-morrow will be called Lady Kingsley!"</p>
<p>"I am something more," said Leoline, holding his hand between both hers,
and bending near him; "I am your sister!"</p>
<p>The Earl of Rochester's page must have had good blood in his veins; for
never was there duke, grandee, or peer of the realm, more radically and
unaffectedly nonchalant than he. To this unexpected announcement he
listened with most dignified and well-bred composure, and in his secret
heart, or rather vanity, more disappointed than otherwise, to find his
first solution of her tenderness a great mistake. Leoline held his hand
tight in hers, and looked with loving and tearful eyes in his face.</p>
<p>"Dear Hubert, you are my brother—my long-unknown brother, and I love
you with my whole heart!"</p>
<p>"Am I?" said Hubert. "I dare say I am, for they all say we look as much
alike as two peas. I am excessively delighted to hear it, and to know that
you love me. Permit me to embrace my new relative."</p>
<p>With which the court page kissed Leoline with emphasis, while she scarcely
knew whether to laugh, cry, or be provoked at his composure. On the whole,
she did a little of all three, and pushed him away with a halt pout.</p>
<p>"You insensible mortal! How can you stand there and hear that you have
found a sister with so much indifference?"</p>
<p>"Indifferent? Not I! You have no idea how wildly excited I am!" said
Hubert, in a voice not betokening the slightest emotion. "How did you find
it out, Leoline?"</p>
<p>"Never mind! I shall tell you that again. You don't doubt it, I hope?"</p>
<p>"Of course not! I knew from the first moment I set eyes on you, that if
you were not my sister, you ought to be! I wish you'd tell me all the
particulars, Leoline."</p>
<p>"I shall do so as soon as I am out of this; but how can I tell you
anything here?"</p>
<p>"That's true!" said Hubert, reflectively. "Well, I'll wait. Now, don't you
wonder how I found you out, and came here?"</p>
<p>"Indeed I do. How was it, Hubert?"</p>
<p>"Oh, well, I don't know as I can altogether tell you; but you see, Sir
Norman Kingsley being possessed of an inspiration that something was
happening to you, came to your house a short time ago, and, as he
suspected, discovered that you were missing. I met him there, rather
depressed in his mind about it, and he told me—beginning the
conversation, I must say, in a very excited manner," said Hubert,
parenthetically, as memory recalled the furious shaking he had undergone—"and
he told me he fancied you were abducted, and by one Count L'Estrange. Now
I had a hazy idea who Count L'Estrange was, and where he would be most apt
to take you to; and so I came here, and after some searching, more
inquiring, and a few unmitigated falsehoods (you'll regret to hear),
discovered you were locked up in this place, and succeeded in getting in
through the window. Sir Norman is waiting for me in a state of distraction
so now, having found you, I will go and relieve his mind by reporting
accordingly."</p>
<p>"And leave me here?" cried Leoline, in affright, "and in the power of
Count L'Estrange? Oh! no, no! You must take me with you, Hubert!"</p>
<p>"My dear Leoline, it is quite impossible to do it without help, and
without a ladder. I will return to Sir Norman; and when the darkness comes
that precedes day-dawn, we will raise the ladder to your window, and try
to get you out. Be patient—only wait an hour or two, and then you
will be free."</p>
<p>"But, O Hubert, where am I? What dreadful place it this?"</p>
<p>"Why, I do not know that this is a very dreadful place; and most people
consider it a sufficiently respectable house; but, still, I would rather
see my sister anywhere else than in it, and will take the trouble of
kidnapping her out of it as quickly as possible."</p>
<p>"But, Hubert, tell me—do tell me, who is Count L'Estrange?" Hubert
laughed.</p>
<p>"Cannot, really, Leoline! at least, not until to-morrow, and you are Lady
Kingsley."</p>
<p>"But, what if he should come here to-night?"</p>
<p>"I do not think there is much danger of that, but whether he does or not,
rest assured you shall be free to-morrow! At all events, it is quite
impossible for you to escape with me now; and even as it is, I run the
risk of being detected, and made a prisoner, myself. You must be patient
and wait, Leoline, and trust to Providence and your brother Hubert!"</p>
<p>"I must, I suppose!" said Leoline, sighing, "and you cannot take me away
until day-dawn."</p>
<p>"Quite impossible; and then all this drapery of yours will be ever so much
in the way. Would you object to garments like these?" pointing to his
doublet and hose. "If you would not, I think I could procure you a
fit-out."</p>
<p>"But I should, though!" said Leoline, with spirit "and most decidedly,
too! I shall wear nothing of the kind, Sir Page!"</p>
<p>"Every one to her fancy!" said Hubert, with a French shrug, "and my pretty
sister shall have hers in spite of earth, air, fire, and water! And now,
fair Leoline, for a brief time, adieu, and au revoir!"</p>
<p>"You will not fail me!" exclaimed Leoline, earnestly, clasping her hands.</p>
<p>"If I do, it shall be the last thing I will fail in on earth; for if I am
alive by to-morrow morning, Leoline shall be free!"</p>
<p>"And you will be careful—you will both be careful!"</p>
<p>"Excessively careful! Now then."</p>
<p>The last two words were addressed to the window which he noiselessly
opened as he spoke. Leoline caught a glimpse of the bright free moonlight,
and watched him with desperate envy; but the next moment the shutters were
closed, and Hubert and the moonlight were both gone.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />