Ormiston moved across the passage, like the good, obedient young man that he was, filled a glass of Burgundy, and as he was returning with it, was startled by a cry from the lady that nearly made him drop and shiver it on the floor. “What under heaven has come to her now?” he thought, hastening in, wondering how she could possibly have come to grief since he left her. She was sitting upright on the sofa, her dress palled down off her shoulder where the plague-spot had been, and which, to his amazement, he saw now pure and stainless, and free from every loathsome trace. “You are cured of the plague!” was all he could say. “Thank God!” she exclaimed, fervently clasping her hands. “But oh! how can it have happened? It must be a miracle!” “No, it was your plunge into the river; I have heard of one or two such cases before, and if ever I take it,” said Ormiston, half laughing, half shuddering, “my first rush shall be for old Father Thames. Here, drink this, I am certain it will complete the cure.” The girl--she was nothing but a girl--drank it off and sat upright like one inspired with new life. As she set down the glass, she lifted her dark, solemn, beautiful eyes to his face with a long, searching gaze. “What is your name?” she simply asked. “Ormiston, madame,” he said, bowing low. “You have saved my life, have you not?” “It was the Earl of Rochester who reserved you from the river; but I would have done it a moment later.” “I do not mean that. I mean”--with a slight shudder--“are you not one of those I saw at the plague-pit? Oh! that dreadful, dreadful plague-pit!” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “Yes. I am one of those.” “And who was the other?” “My friend, Sir Norman Kingsley. “Sir Norman Kingsley?” she softly repeated, with a sort of recognition in her voice and eyes, while a faint roseate glow rose softly over her face and neck. “Ah! I thought--was it to his house or yours I was brought?” “To his,” replied Ormiston, looking at her curiously; for he had seen that rosy glow, and was extremely puzzled thereby; “from whence, allow me to add, you took your departure rather unceremoniously.”