"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.
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