And this hateful Count L'Estrange, what did he intend to do with her?
Perhaps go so far as to make her marry him, and imprison her with the rest of his wives; for Leoline was prepared to think the very worst of the count, and had not the slightest doubt that he already had a harem full of abducted wives, somewhere.

But no--he never could do that, he might do what he liked with weaker minds, but she never would be a bride of his while the plague or poison was to be had in London.

And with this invincible determination rooted fixedly, not to say obstinately, in her mind, she was nearly pitched overboard by the boat suddenly landing at some unexpected place.

A little natural scream of terror was repressed on her lips by a hand being placed over them, and the determined but perfectly respectful tones of the person beside her speaking.
"Remember your promise, lady, and do not make a noise.

We have arrived at our journey's end, and if you will take my arm, I will lead you along, instead of carrying you." Leoline was rather surprised to find the journey so short, but she arose directly, with silence and dignity--at least with as much of the latter commodity as could be reasonably expected, considering that boats on water are rather unsteady things to be dignified in--and was led gently and with care out of the swaying vessel, and up another flight of stairs.