"
"I believe I have heard something of it - how long to remain?"
"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.
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