"It is my turn to ask questions, now, my lord. Who is Count
L'Estrange?"
"I know of no such person, Ormiston. I was thinking of something
else! Was it Leoline who told you that was her lover's name?"
No; I heard it by mere accident from another person. I am sure,
if Leoline is not a personage in disguise, he is."
"And why do you think so?"
"An inward conviction, my lord. So you will not tell me who he
is?"
"Have I not told you I know of no such person as Count
L'Estrange? You ought to believe me. Oh, here it comes."
This last was addressed to a great drop of rain, which splashed
heavily on his upturned face, followed by another and another in
quick succession.
"The storm is upon us," said the earl, sitting up and wrapping
his cloak closer around him, "and I am for Whitehall. Shall we
land you, Ormiston, or take you there, too?"
"I must land," said Ormiston. "I have a pressing engagement for
the next half-hour. Here it is, in a perfect deluge; the fires
will be out in five minutes."
The barge touched the stairs, and Ormiston sprang out, with
"Good-night" to the earl. The rain was rushing along, now, in
torrents, and he ran upstairs and darted into an archway of the
bridge, to seek the shelter.
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