A profusion of shining black hair fell in
waves and curls almost to her feet; but her face, from forehead
to chin, was completely hidden by a black velvet mask. In one
hand, exquisitely small and white, she held a gold casket,
blazing (like her dress) with rubies, and with the other she
toyed with a tame viper, that had twined itself round her wrist.
This was doubtless La Masque, and becoming conscious of that fact
Sir Norman made her a low and courtly bow. She returned it by a
slight bend of the head, and turning toward his companion, spoke
"You here, again, Mr. Ormiston! To what am I indebted for the
honor of two visits in two days?"
Her voice, Sir Norman thought, was the sweetest he had ever
heard, musical as a chime of silver bells, soft as the tones of
an aeolian harp through which the west wind plays.
"Madam, I am aware my visits are undesired," said Ormiston, with
a flushing cheek and, slightly tremulous voice; "but I have
merely come with my friend, Sir Norman Kingsley, who wishes to
know what the future has in store for him."
Thus invoked, Sir Norman Kingsley stepped forward with another
low bow to the masked lady.
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