“Robert! I say, Robert!” “Well!” said Robert, looking up. “Master and missus be gone at last, and the rest won't live till morning.” “Won't they?” said Robert, phlegmatically; “what a pity! Get 'em ready, and I'll stop the dead-cart when it comes round.” Just as he spoke, the well-known rattle of wheels, the loud ringing of the bell, and the monotonous cry of the driver, “Bring out your dead! bring out your dead!” echoed on the pale night's silence; and the pest-cart came rumbling and jolting along with its load of death. The watchman hailed the driver, according to promise, and they entered the house together, brought out one long, white figure, and then another, and threw them on top of the ghastly heap. “We'll have three more for you in on hour of so--don't forget to come round,” suggested the watchman. “All right!” said the driver, as he took his place, whipped his horse, rang his bell, and jogged along nonchalantly to the plague-pit. Sick at heart, Leoline dropped the curtain, and turned round to see somebody else standing at her elbow. She had been quite alone when she looked out; she was alone no longer; there had been no noise, yet some one had entered, and was standing beside her. A tall figure, all in black, with its sweeping velvet robes spangled with stars of golden rubies, a perfect figure of incomparable grace and beauty. It had worn a cloak that had dropped lightly from its shoulders, and lay on the floor and the long hair streamed in darkness over shoulder and waist. The face was masked, the form stood erect and perfectly motionless, and the scream of surprise and consternation that arose to Leoline's lips died out in wordless terror. Her noiseless visitor perceived it, and touching her arm lightly with one little white hand, said in her sweetest and most exquisite of tones: “My child, do not tremble so, and do not look so deathly white. You know me, do you not?” “You are La Masque!” said Leoline trembling with nervous dread. “I am, and no stranger to you; though perhaps you think so. Is it your habit every night to look out of your window in full dress until morning?” “How did you enter?” asked Leoline, her curiosity overcoming for a moment even her fear. “Through the door. Not a difficult thing, either, if you leave it wide open every night, as it is this.” “Was it open?” said Leoline, in dismay. “I never knew it.” “Ah! then it was not you who went out last. Who was it?” “It was--was--” Leoline's cheeks were scarlet; “it was a friend!” “A somewhat late hour for one's friends to visit,” said La Masque, sarcastically; “and you should learn the precaution of seeing them to the door and fastening it after them.” “Rest assured, I shall do so for the future,” said Leoline, with a look that would have reminded Sir Norman of Miranda had he seen it. “I scarcely expected the honor of any more visits, particularly from strangers to-night.”