There remained no room for doubt that the contagion had lurked in thatgorgeous mantle, which threw so strange a grace around her at thefestival. Its fantastic splendor had been conceived in the deliriousbrain of a woman on her death-bed, and was the last toil of herstiffening fingers, which had interwoven fate and misery with itsgolden threads. This dark tale, whispered at first, was now bruitedfar and wide. The people raved against the Lady Eleanore, and criedout that her pride and scorn had evoked a fiend, and that, betweenthem both, this monstrous evil had been born. At times, their rage anddespair took the semblance of grinning mirth; and whenever the redflag of the pestilence was hoisted over another and yet anotherdoor, they clapped their hands and shouted through the streets, inbitter mockery: "Behold a new triumph for the Lady Eleanore!"One day, in the midst of these dismal times, a wild figureapproached the portal of the Province House, and folding his arms,stood contemplating the scarlet banner which a passing breeze shookfitfully, as if to fling abroad the contagion that it typified. Atlength, climbing one of the pillars by means of the iron balustrade,he took down the flag and entered the mansion, waving it above hishead. At the foot of the staircase he met the Governor, booted andspurred, with his cloak drawn around him, evidently on the point ofsetting forth upon a journey.
"Wretched lunatic, what do you seek here?" exclaimed Shute,extending his cane to guard himself from contact. "There is nothinghere but Death. Back- or you will meet him!""Death will not touch me, the banner-bearer of the pestilence!"cried Jervase Helwyse, shaking the red flag aloft. "Death, and thePestilence, who wears the aspect of the Lady Eleanore, will walkthrough the streets tonight, and I must march before them with thisbanner!""Why do I waste words on the fellow?" muttered the Governor,drawing his cloak across his mouth. "What matters his miserablelife, when none of us are sure of twelve hours' breath? On, fool, toyour own destruction!"He made way for Jervase Helwyse, who immediately ascended thestaircase, but, on the first landing-place, was arrested by the firmgrasp of a hand upon his shoulder. Looking fiercely up, with amadman's impulse to struggle with and rend asunder his opponent, hefound himself powerless beneath a calm, stern eye, which possessed themysterious property of quelling frenzy at its height. The personwhom he had now encountered was the physician, Doctor Clarke, theduties of whose sad profession had led him to the Province House wherehe was an infrequent guest in more prosperous times.
"Young man, what is your purpose?" demanded he.
"I seek the Lady Eleanore," answered Jervase Helwyse, submissively.
"All have fled from her," said the physician. "Why do you seekher now? I tell you, youth, her nurse fell death-stricken on thethreshold of that fatal chamber. Know ye not, that never came such acurse to our shores as this lovely Lady Eleanore? that her breathhas filled the air with poison? that she has shaken pestilence anddeath upon the land, from the folds of her accursed mantle?""Let me look upon her!" rejoined the mad youth, more wildly. "Letme behold her, in her awful beauty, clad in the regal garments ofthe pestilence! She and Death sit on a throne together. Let me kneeldown before them!""Poor youth!" said Doctor Clarke; and, moved by a deep sense ofhuman weakness, a smile of caustic humor curled his lip even then.
"Wilt thou still worship the destroyer and surround her image withfantasies the more magnificent, the more evil she has wrought? Thusman doth ever to his tyrants. Approach, then! Madness, as I havenoted, has that good efficacy, that it will guard you fromcontagion- and perchance its own cure may be found in yonder chamber."Ascending another flight of stairs, he threw open a door and signedto Jervase Helwyse that he should enter. The poor lunatic, it seemsprobable, had cherished a delusion that his haughty mistress sat instate, unharmed herself by the pestilential influence, which, as byenchantment, she scattered round about her. He dreamed, no doubt, thather beauty was not dimmed, but brightened into superhuman splendor.
With such anticipations, he stole reverentially to the door at whichthe physician stood, but paused upon the threshold gazing fearfullyinto the gloom of the darkened chamber.
"Where is the Lady Eleanore?" whispered he.
"Call her," replied the physician.
"Lady Eleanore! Princess! Queen of Death!" cried Jervase Helwyse,advancing three steps into the chamber. "She is not here! There, onyonder table, I behold the sparkle of a diamond which once she woreupon her bosom. There"- and he shuddered- "there hangs her mantle,on which a dead woman embroidered a spell of dreadful potency. Butwhere is the Lady Eleanore?"Something stirred within the silken curtains of a canopied bed; anda low moan was uttered, which, listening intently, Jervase Helwysebegan to distinguish as a woman's voice, complaining dolefully ofthirst. He fancied, even, that he recognized its tones.
