“I know!” said Leoline, slowly, and with her eyes again riveted to the black mask. “But; madame, who are you?” “Have I not told you? What a pretty inquisitor it is! I am La Masque--your friend, now; something more soon, as you will see when you read what I have spoken of. Do not ask me how I have come by it--you will read all about it there. I did not know that I would give it to you to-night, but I have a strange foreboding that it is destined to be my last on earth. And, Leoline my child, before I leave you, let me hear you say you will not hate me when you read what is there.” “What have you done to me? Why should I hate you?” “Ah! you will find that all out soon enough. Do content me, Leoline--let me hear you say; `La Masque, whatever you've done to me, however you have wronged me, I will forgive you!' Can you say that?” Leoline repeated it simply, like a little child. La Masque took her hand, held it between both her own, leaned over and looked earnestly in her face. “My little Leoline! my beautiful rosebud! May Heaven bless you and grant you a long and happy life with--shall I say it, Leoline?” “Please--no!” whispered Leoline, shyly. La Masque softly patted the little tremulous hand. “We are both saying the name now in our hearts, my dear, so it is little matter whether our lips repeat it or not. He is worthy, of you, Leoline, and your life will be a happy one by his side; but there is another.” She paused and lowered her voice. “When have you seen Count L'Estrange?” “Not since yesterday, madame.” “Beware of him! Do you know who he is, Leoline?” “I know nothing of him but his name.” “Then do not seek to know,” said La Masque, emphatically. “For it is a secret you would tremble to hear. And now I must leave you. Come with me to the door, and fasten it as soon as I go out, lest you should forget it altogether.” Leoline, with a dazed expression, thrust the precious little casket into the bosom of her dress, and taking up the lamp, preceded her visitor down stairs. At the door they paused, and La Masque, with her hand on her arm, repeated, in a low, earnest voice, “Leoline, beware of Count L'Estrange, and become Lady Kingsley as soon as you can.” “I will hear that name to-morrow!” thought Leoline, with a glad little thrill at her heart, as La Masque flitted out into the moonlight. Leoline closed and locked the door, driving the bolts into their sockets, and making all secure. “I defy any one to get in again tonight!” she said, smiling at her own dexterity; and lamp in hand, she ran lightly up stairs to read the long unsolved riddle. So eager was she, that she had crossed the room, laid the lamp on the table, and sat down before it, ere she became aware that she was not alone. Some one was leaning against the mantel, his arm on it, and his eyes do her, gazing with an air of incomparable coolness and ease. It was a man this time--something more than a man,--a count, and Count L'Estrange, at that!