"Oh, dreadful!" exclaimed Leoline, while every drop of blood fled from her face. "My poor, poor old nurse!"

"Your poor, poor old nurse left you without much tenderness when she thought you dying of the same disease," said La Masque, quietly.

"Oh, that is nothing. The suddenness, the shock drove her to it. My poor, dear Prudence."

"Well, you can do nothing for her now," said La Masque, in a tone of slight impatience. "Prudence is beyond all human aid, and so--let her rest in peace. You were carried to the plague-pit yourself, for dead, were you not?"

"Yes," answered the pale lips, while she shivered all over at the recollection.

"And was saved by--by whom were you saved, my dear?"

"By two gentlemen."

"Oh, I know that; what were their names?"

"One was Mr. Ormiston, the other was," hesitating and blushing vividly, "Sir Norman Kingsley."

La Masque leaned across her chair, and laid one dainty finger lightly on the girl's hot cheek.

"And for which is that blush, Leoline?"

"Madame, was it only to ask me questions you came here?" said Leoline, drawing proudly back, though the hot red spot grew hotter and redder; "if so, you will excuse my declining to answer any more."

"Child, child!" said La Masque, in a tone so strangely sad that it touched Leoline, "do not be angry with me. 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. All my life I have lived alone with Prudence; that in the whole of it in nine words."

La Masque half laughed.

"Short, sharp, and decisive. Had you never father or mother?"

"There is a slight probability I may have had at some past period," said Leoline, sighing; "but none that I ever knew."

"Why does not Prudence tell you?"

"Prudence is only my nurse, and says she has nothing to tell. My parents died when I was an infant, and left me in her care--that is her story."

"A likely one enough, and yet I see by your face that you doubt it."

"I do doubt it! There are a thousand little outward things that make me fancy it is false, and an inward voice that a.s.sures me it is so."

"Then let me tell you that inward voice tells falsehoods, for I know that your father and mother are both dead these fourteen years!"

Leoline's great black eyes were fixed on her face with a look so wild and eager, that La Masque laid her hand lightly and soothingly on her shoulder.

"Don't look at me with such a spectral face! What is there so extraordinary in all I have said?"

"You said you knew my father and mother."

"No such thing! I said I knew they were dead, but the other fact is true also; I did know them when living!"

"Madame, who are you? Who were they?"

"I? Oh, I am La Masque, the sorceress, and they--they were Leoline's father and mother!" and again La Masque slightly laughed.

"You mock me, madame!" cried Leoline, pa.s.sionately. "You are cruel--you are heartless! If you know anything, in Heaven's name tell me--if not, go and leave me in peace!"

"Thank you! I shall do that presently; and as to the other--of course I shall tell you; what else do you suppose I have come for to-night? Look here! Do you see this?"

She drew out from some hidden pocket in her dress a small and beautifully-wrought casket of ivory and silver, with straps and clasps of silver, and a tiny key of the same.

"Well!" asked Leoline, looking from it to her, with the blank air of one utterly bewildered,

"In this casket, my dear, there is a roll of papers, closely written, which you are to read as soon as I leave you. Those papers contain your whole history--do you understand?"

She was looking so white, and staring so hard and so hopelessly, that there was need of the question. She took the casket and gazed at it with a perplexed air.

"My child, have your thoughts gone wool-gathering? Do you not comprehend what I have said to you! Your whole history is hid in that box?"

"I know!" said Leoline, slowly, and with her eyes again riveted to the black mask. "But; madame, who are you?"

"Have I not told you? What a pretty inquisitor it is! I am La Masque--your friend, now; something more soon, as you will see when you read what I have spoken of. Do not ask me how I have come by it--you will read all about it there. I did not know that I would give it to you to-night, but I have a strange foreboding that it is destined to be my last on earth. And, Leoline my child, before I leave you, let me hear you say you will not hate me when you read what is there."

"What have you done to me? Why should I hate you?"

"Ah! you will find that all out soon enough. Do content me, Leoline--let me hear you say; 'La Masque, whatever you've done to me, however you have wronged me, I will forgive you!' Can you say that?"

Leoline repeated it simply, like a little child. La Masque took her hand, held it between both her own, leaned over and looked earnestly in her face.

"My little Leoline! my beautiful rosebud! May Heaven bless you and grant you a long and happy life with--shall I say it, Leoline?"

"Please--no!" whispered Leoline, shyly.

La Masque softly patted the little tremulous hand.

"We are both saying the name now in our hearts, my dear, so it is little matter whether our lips repeat it or not. He is worthy, of you, Leoline, and your life will be a happy one by his side; but there is another."

She paused and lowered her voice. "When have you seen Count L'Estrange?"

"Not since yesterday, madame."

"Beware of him! Do you know who he is, Leoline?"

"I know nothing of him but his name."