"Till Charles takes it into his head to come back again," said the earl, familiarly, "which will probably be in a week or two. Look at that sky, all black and scarlet; and look at those people--I scarcely thought there were half the number left alive in London."

"Even the sick have come out to-night," said Ormiston. "Half the pest-stricken in the city have left their beds, full of newborn hope.

One would think it were a carnival."

"So it is--a carnival of death! I hope, Ormiston," said the earl, looking at him with a light laugh, "the pretty little white fairy we rescued from the river is not one of the sick parading the streets."

Ormiston looked grave.

"No, my lord, I think she is not. I left her safe and secure."

"Who is she, Ormiston?" coaxed the earl, laughingly. "Pshaw, man! don't make a mountain out of a mole-hill! Tell me her name!"

"Her name is Leoline."

"What else?"

"That is just what I would like to have some one tell me. I give you my honor, my lord, I do not know."

The earl's face, half indignant, half incredulous, wholly curious, made Ormiston smile.

"It is a fact, my lord. I asked her her name, and she told me Leoline--a pretty t.i.tle enough, but rather unsatisfactory."

"How long have you known her?"

"To the best of my belief," said Ormiston, musingly, "about four hours."

"Nonsense!" cried the earl, energetically. "What are you telling me, Ormiston? You said she was an old friend."

"I beg your pardon, my lord, I said no such thing. I told you she had escaped from her friends, which was strictly true."

"Then how the demon had you the impudence to come up and carry her off in that style? I certainly had a better right to her than you--the right of discovery; and I shall call upon you to deliver her up!"

"If she belonged to me I should only be too happy to oblige your lordship," laughed Ormiston; "but she is at present the property of Sir Norman Kingsley, and to him you must apply."

"Ah! His inamorata, is she? Well, I must say his taste is excellent; but I should think you ought to know her name, since you and he are noted for being a modern Damon and Pythias."

"Probably I should, my lord, only Sir Norman, unfortunately, does not know himself."

The earl's countenance looked so utterly blank at this announcement, that Ormiston was forced to throw in a word of explanation.

"I mean to say, my lord, that he has fallen in love with her; and, judging from appearances, I should say his flame is not altogether hopeless, although they have met to-night for the first time."

"A rapid pa.s.sion. Where have you left her, Ormiston?"

"In her own house, my lord," Ormiston replied, smiling quietly to himself.

"Where is that?"

"About a dozen yards from where I stood when you called me."

"Who are her family?" continued the earl, who seemed possessed of a devouring curiosity.

"She has none that I know of. I imagine Mistress Leoline is an orphan.

I know there was not a living soul but ourselves in the house I brought her to."

"And you left her there alone?" exclaimed the earl, half starting up, as if about to order the boatman to row back to the landing.

Ormiston looked at his excited face with a glance full of quiet malice.

"No, my lord, not quits; Sir Norman Kingsley was with her!"

"Oh!" said the earl, smiling back with a look of chagrin. "Then he will probably find out her name before he comes away. I wonder you could give her up so easily to him, after all your trouble!"

"Smitten, my lord?" inquired Ormiston, maliciously.

"Hopelessly!" replied the earl, with a deep sigh. "She was a perfect little beauty; and if I can find her, I warn Sir Norman Kingsley to take care! I have already sent Hubert out in search of her; and, by the way,"

said the earl, with a sudden increase of animation, "what a wonderful resemblance she bears to Hubert--I could almost swear they were one and the same!"

"The likeness is marvelous; but I should hate to take such an oath. I confess I am somewhat curious myself; but I stand no chance of having it gratified before to-morrow, I suppose."

"How those fires blaze! It is much brighter than at noon-day. Show me the house in which Leoline lies?".

Ormiston easily pointed it out, and showed the earl the light still burning in her window.

"It was in that room we found her first, dead of the plague!"

"Dead of the what?" cried the earl, aghast.

"Dead of the plague! I'll tell your lordship how it was," said Ormiston, who forthwith commend and related the story of their finding Leoline; of the resuscitation at the plague-pit; of the flight from Sir Norman's house, and of the delirious plunge into the river, and miraculous cure.

"A marvelous story," commented the earl, much interested. "And Leoline seems to have as many lives as a cat! Who can she be--a princess in disguise--eh, Ormiston?"

"She looks fit to be a princess, or anything else; but your lordship knows as much about her, now, as I do."

"You say she was dressed as a bride--how came that?"

"Simply enough. She was to be married to-night, had she not taken the plague instead."

"Married? Why, I thought you told me a few minutes ago she was in love with Kingsley. It seems to me, Mr. Ormiston, your remarks are a trifle inconsistent," said the earl, in a tone of astonished displeasure.

"Nevertheless, they are all perfectly true. Mistress Leoline was to be married, as I told you; but she was to marry to please her friends, and not herself. She had been in the habit of watching Kingsley go past her window; and the way she blushed, and went through the other little motions, convinces me that his course of true love will ran as smooth as this gla.s.sy river runs at present."

"Kingsley is a lucky fellow. Will the discarded suitor have no voice in the matter; or is he such a simpleton as to give her up at a word?"

Ormiston laughed.

"Ah! to be sure; what will the count say? And, judging from some things I've heard, I should say he is violently in love with her."