velvet hood of the same color covered the
stately head; and the mask--the tiresome, inevitable mask covered the
beautiful--he was positive it was beautiful--face. He had seen her a
score of times in that very dress, flitting like a dark, graceful ghost
through the city streets, and the sight sent his heart plunging against
his side like an inward sledge-hammer. Would one pulse in her heart stir
ever so faintly at sight of him? Just as he asked himself the question,
and was stepping forward to meet her, feeling very like the country
swain in love--"hot and dry like, with a pain in his side like"--he
suddenly stopped. Another figure came forth from the shadow of an
opposite house, and softly pronounced her name. It was a short figure--a
woman's figure. He could not see the face, and that was an immense
relief to him, and prevented his having jealousy added to his other
pains and tribulations. La Masque paused as well as he, and her soft
voice softly asked:

"Who calls?"

"It is I, madame--Prudence."

"Ah! I am glad to meet you. I have been searching the city through for
you. Where have you been?"

"Madame, I was so frightened that I don't know where I fled to, and
I could scarcely make up my mind to come back at all. I did feel
dreadfully sorry for her, poor thing! but you know, Madame Masque, I
could do nothing for her, and I should not have come back, only I was
afraid of you."

"You did wrong, Prudence," said La Masque, sternly, or at least as
sternly as so sweet a voice could speak; "you did very wrong to leave
her in such a way. You should have come to me at once, and told me all."

"But, madame, I was so frightened!"

"Bah! You are nothing but a coward. Come into this doorway, and tell me
all about it."

Ormiston drew back as the twain approached, and entered the deep portals
of La Masque's own doorway. He could see them both by the aforesaid
faint lamplight, and he noticed that La Masque's companion was a
wrinkled old woman, that would not trouble the peace of mind of the most
jealous lover in Christendom. Perhaps it was not just the thing to hover
aloof and listen; but he could not for the life of him help it; and
stand and listen he accordingly did. Who knew but this nocturnal
conversation might throw some light on the dark mystery he was anxious
to see through, and, could his ears have run into needle-points to hear
the better, he would have had the operation then and there performed.
There was a mome