THE DEAD BRIDE
"Well," said Ormiston, drawing a long bath, "what do you think of "that?""Think? Don't ask me yet." said Sir Norman, looking rather bewildered."I'm in such a state of mystification that I don't rightly know whether I'm standing on my head or feet.For one thing, I have come to the conclusion that your masked ladylove must be enchantingly beautiful.""Have I not told you that a thousand times, O thou of little faith? But why have you come to such a conclusion?""Because no woman with such a figure, such a voice and such hands could be otherwise.""I knew you would own it some day.Do you wonder now that I love her?""Oh! as to loving her," said Sir Norman, coolly, "that's quite another thing.I could no more love her or her hands, voice, and shape, than I could a figure in wood or wax; but I admire her vastly, and think her extremely clever.I will never forget that face in the caldron.It was the most exquisitely beautiful Iever saw."
"In love with the shadow of a face! Why, you are a thousand-fold more absurd than I.""No," said Sir Norman, thoughtfully, "I don't know as I'm in love with it; but if ever I see a living face like it, I certainly shall be.How did La Masque do it, I wonder?""You had better ask her," said Ormiston, bitterly."She seems to have taken an unusual interest in you at first sight.She would strew your path with roses, forsooth! Nothing earthly, Ibelieve, would make her say anything half so tender to me."Sir Norman laughed, and stroked his moustache complacently.
"All a matter of taste, my dear fellow: and these women are noted for their perfection in that line.I begin to admire La Masque more and more, and I think you had better give up the chase, and let me take your place.I don't believe you have the ghost of a chance, Ormiston.""I don't believe it myself," said Ormiston, with a desperate face "but until the plague carries me off I cannot give her up; and the sooner that happens, the better.Ha! what is this?"It was a piercing shriek - no unusual sound; and as he spoke, the door of an adjoining house was flung open, a woman rushed wildly out, fled down an adjoining street, and disappeared.
Sir Norman and his companion looked at each other, and then at the house.
"What's all this about?" demanded Ormiston.
"That's a question I can't take it upon myself to answer," said Sir Norman; "and the only way to solve the mystery, is to go in and see.""It may be the plague," said Ormiston, hesitating."Yet the house is not marked.There is a watchman.I will ask him."The man with the halberd in his hand was walking up and down before an adjoining house, bearing the ominous red cross and piteous inscription: "Lord have mercy on us!""I don't know, sir," was his answer to Ormiston."If any one there has the plague, they must have taken it lately; for I heard this morning there was to be a wedding there to-night.""I never heard of any one screaming in that fashion about a wedding," said Ormiston, doubtfully."Do you know who lives there?""No, sir.I only came here, myself, yesterday, but two or three times to-day I have seen a very beautiful young lady looking out of the window."Ormiston thanked the man, and went back to report to his friend.
"A beautiful young lady!" said Sir Norman, with energy."Then Imean to go directly up and see about it, and you can follow or not, just as you please."So saying, Sir Norman entered the open doorway, and found himself in a long hall, flanked by a couple of doors on each side.These he opened in rapid succession, finding nothing but silence and solitude; and Ormiston - who, upon reflection, chose to follow -ran up a wide and sweeping staircase at the end of the hall.Sir Norman followed him, and they came to a hall similar to the one below.A door to the right lay open; and both entered without ceremony, and looked around.
The room was spacious, and richly furnished.Just enough light stole through the oriel window at the further end, draped with crimson satin embroidered with gold, to show it.The floor was of veined wood of many colors, arranged in fanciful mosaics, and strewn with Turkish rugs and Persian mats of gorgeous colors.
The walls were carved, the ceiling corniced, and all fretted with gold network and gilded mouldings.On a couch covered with crimson satin, like the window drapery, lay a cithren and some loose sheets of music.Near it was a small marble table, covered with books and drawings, with a decanter of wine and an exquisite little goblet of Bohemian glass.The marble mantel was strewn with ornaments of porcelain and alabaster, and a beautifully-carved vase of Parian marble stood in the centre, filled with brilliant flowers.A great mirror reflected back the room, and beneath it stood a toilet-table, strewn with jewels, laces, perfume-bottles, and an array of costly little feminine trifles such as ladies were as fond of two centuries ago as they are to-day.Evidently it was a lady's chamber; for in a recess near the window stood a great quaint carved bedstead, with curtains and snowy lace, looped back with golden arrows and scarlet ribbons.Some one lay on it, too - at least, Ormiston thought so; and he went cautiously forward, drew the curtain, and looked down.
"Great Heaven! what a beautiful face!" was his cry, as he bent still further down.
"What the plague is the matter?" asked Sir Norman, coming forward.
"You have said it," said Ormiston, recoiling."The plague is the matter.There lies one dead of it!"Curiosity proving stronger than fear, Sir Norman stepped forward to look at the corpse.It was a young girl with a face as lovely as a poet's vision.That face was like snow, now; and, in its calm, cold majesty, looked as exquisitely perfect as some ancient Grecian statue.The low, pearly brow, the sweet, beautiful lips, the delicate oval outline of countenance, were perfect.The eyes were closed, and the long dark lashes rested on the ivory cheeks.
