“Civil, that! Will you ask me to sit down, or am I to consider myself an unseasonable intruder, and depart?” “Madame, will you do me the honor to be seated. The hour, as you say, is somewhat unseasonable, and you will oblige me by letting me know to what I am indebted for the pleasure of this visit, as quickly as possible.” There was something quite dignified about Mistress Leoline as she swept rustling past La Masque, sank into the pillowy depths of her lounge, and motioned her visitor to a seat with a slight and graceful wave of her hand. Not but that in her secret heart she was a good deal frightened, for something under her pink satin corsage was going pit-a-pat at a wonderful rate; but she thought that betraying such a feeling would not be the thing. Perhaps the tall, dark figure saw it, and smiled behind her mask; but outwardly she only leaned lightly against the back of the chair, and glanced discreetly at the door. “Are you sure we are quite alone?” “Quite:” “Because,” said La Masque, in her low, silvery tones, “what I have come to say is not for the ears of any third person living:” “We are entirely alone, madame,” replied Leoline, opening her black eyes very wide. “Prudence is gone, and I do not know when she will be back.” “Prudence will never come back,” said La Masque, quietly. “Madame!” “My dear, do not look so shocked--it is not her fault. You know she deserted you for fear of the plague.” “Yes, yes!” “Well, that did not save her; nay, it even brought on what she dreaded so much. Your nurse is plague-stricken, my dear, and lies ill unto death in the pest-house in Finsbury Fields.” “Oh, dreadful!” exclaimed Leoline, while every drop of blood fled from her face. “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.”