you should lack amusement, I'll leave you a light to contemplate
your apartment; and for fear you may get lonesome, these two gentlemen
will stand outside your door, with their swords drawn, till I come back.
Good-by, my dear young sir--good-bye!"

The dungeon-door swung to with a tremendous bang Sir Norman was barred
in his prison to await his doom and the dwarf was skipping along the
passage with sprightliness, laughing as he went.

CHAPTER XIII. ESCAPED.

Probably not one of you; my dear friends, who glance graciously over
this, was ever shut up in a dungeon under expectation of bearing the
unpleasant operation of decapitation within half an hour. It never
happened to myself, either, that I can recollect; so, of course, you
or I personally can form no idea what the sensation may be like; but
in this particular case, tradition saith Sir Norman Kingsley's state
of mind was decidedly depressed. As the door shut violently, he leaned
against it, and listened to his jailers place the great bars into their
sockets, and felt he was shut in, in the dreariest, darkest, dismalest,
disagreeablest place that it had ever been his misfortune to enter.
He thought of Leoline, and reflected that in all probability she was
sleeping the sleep of the just--perhaps dreaming of him, and little
knowing that his head was to be cut off in half an hour.

In course of time morning would come--it was not likely the ordinary
course of nature would be cut off because he was; and Leoline would get
up and dress herself, and looking a thousand times prettier than ever,
stand at the window and wait for him. Ah! she might wait--much good
would it do her; about that time he would probably be--where? It was a
rather uncomfortable question, but easily answered, and depressed him to
a very desponding degree indeed.

He thought of Ormiston and La Masque--no doubt they were billing and
cooing in most approved fashion just then, and never thinking of him;
though, but for La Masque and his own folly, he might have been half
married by this time. He thought of Count L'Estrange and Master Hubert,
and become firmly convinced, if one did not find Leoline the other
would; and each being equally bad, it was about a toss up in agony which
got her.

He thought of Queen Miranda, and of the adage, "put no trust in
princes," and sighed deeply as he reflected what a bad sign of human
nature it was--more particularly such handsome human nature--that she
coul