Old Saint Paul's: A Tale of the Plague and the Fire

Old Saint Paul's: A Tale of the Plague and the Fire Page 2

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  BOOK THE FIRST.

  APRIL, 1665.

  I.

  THE GROCER OF WOOD-STREET AND HIS FAMILY.

  One night, at the latter end of April, 1665, the family of a citizen ofLondon carrying on an extensive business as a grocer in Wood-street,Cheapside, were assembled, according to custom, at prayer. The grocer'sname was Stephen Bloundel. His family consisted of his wife, three sons,and two daughters. He had, moreover, an apprentice; an elderly femaleserving as cook; her son, a young man about five-and-twenty, filling theplace of porter to the shop and general assistant; and a kitchen-maid.The whole household attended; for the worthy grocer, being a strictobserver of his religious duties, as well as a rigid disciplinarian inother respects, suffered no one to be absent, on any plea whatever,except indisposition, from morning and evening devotions; and these werealways performed at stated times. In fact, the establishment wasconducted with the regularity of clockwork, it being the aim of itsmaster not to pass a single hour of the day unprofitably.

  The ordinary prayers gone through, Stephen Bloundel offered up along andfervent supplication to the Most High for protection against thedevouring pestilence with which the city was then scourged. Heacknowledged that this terrible visitation had been justly brought uponit by the wickedness of its inhabitants; that they deserved their doom,dreadful though it was; that, like the dwellers in Jerusalem before itwas given up to ruin and desolation, they "had mocked the messengers ofGod and despised His word;" that in the language of the prophet, "theyhad refused to hearken, and pulled away the shoulder, and stopped theirears that they should not hear; yea, had made their heart like anadamant stone, lest they should hear the law and the words which theLord of Hosts had sent in his spirit by the former prophets." Headmitted that great sins require great chastisement, and that the sinsof London were enormous; that it was filled with strifes, seditions,heresies, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and every kind ofabomination; that the ordinances of God were neglected, and all mannerof vice openly practised; that, despite repeated warnings andafflictions less grievous than the present, these vicious practices hadbeen persisted in. All this he humbly acknowledged. But he implored agracious Providence, in consideration of his few faithful servants, tospare the others yet a little longer, and give them a last chance ofrepentance and amendment; or, if this could not be, and their utterextirpation was inevitable, that the habitations of the devout might beexempted from the general destruction--might be places of refuge, asZoar was to Lot. He concluded by earnestly exhorting those around him tokeep constant watch upon themselves; not to murmur at God's dealings anddispensations; but so to comport themselves, that "they might be able tostand in the day of wrath, in the day of death, and in the day ofjudgment." The exhortation produced a powerful effect upon its hearers,and they arose, some with serious, others with terrified looks.

  Before proceeding further, it may be desirable to show in what mannerthe dreadful pestilence referred to by the grocer commenced, and how farits ravages had already extended. Two years before, namely, in 1663,more than a third of the population of Amsterdam was carried off by adesolating plague. Hamburgh was also grievously afflicted about the sametime, and in the same manner. Notwithstanding every effort to cut offcommunication with these states, the insidious disease found its wayinto England by means of some bales of merchandise, as it was suspected,at the latter end of the year 1664, when two persons died suddenly, withundoubted symptoms of the distemper, in Westminster. Its next appearancewas at a house in Long Acre, and its victims two Frenchmen, who hadbrought goods from the Levant. Smothered for a short time, like a fireupon which coals had been heaped, it broke out with fresh fury inseveral places.

  The consternation now began. The whole city was panic-stricken: nothingwas talked of but the plague--nothing planned but means of arresting itsprogress--one grim and ghastly idea possessed the minds of all. Like ahideous phantom stalking the streets at noon-day, and scaring all in itspath, Death took his course through London, and selected his prey atpleasure. The alarm was further increased by the predictions confidentlymade as to the vast numbers who would be swept away by the visitation;by the prognostications of astrologers; by the prophesyings ofenthusiasts; by the denunciations of preachers, and by the portents andprodigies reported to have occurred. During the long and frosty winterpreceding this fatal year, a comet appeared in the heavens, the sicklycolour of which was supposed to forebode the judgment about to follow.Blazing stars and other meteors, of a lurid hue and strange andpreternatural shape, were likewise seen. The sun was said to have set instreams of blood, and the moon to have shown without reflecting ashadow; grisly shapes appeared at night--strange clamours and groanswere heard in the air--hearses, coffins, and heaps of unburied dead werediscovered in the sky, and great cakes and clots of blood were found inthe Tower moat; while a marvellous double tide occurred at LondonBridge. All these prodigies were currently reported, and in most casesbelieved.

  The severe frost, before noticed, did not break up till the end ofFebruary, and with the thaw the plague frightfully increased inviolence. From Drury-lane it spread along Holborn, eastward as far asGreat Turnstile, and westward to Saint Giles's Pound, and so along theTyburn-road. Saint Andrew's, Holborn, was next infected; and as this wasa much more populous parish than the former, the deaths were morenumerous within it. For a while, the disease was checked by Fleet Ditch;it then leaped this narrow boundary, and ascending the opposite hill,carried fearful devastation into Saint James's, Clerkenwell. At the sametime, it attacked Saint Bride's; thinned the ranks of the thievish hordehaunting Whitefriars, and proceeding in a westerly course, decimatedSaint Clement Danes.

  Hitherto, the city had escaped. The destroyer had not passed Ludgate orNewgate, but environed the walls like a besieging enemy. A few days,however, before the opening of this history, fine weather havingcommenced, the horrible disease began to grow more rife, and laughingall precautions and impediments to scorn, broke out in the very heart ofthe stronghold--namely, in Bearbinder-lane, near Stock's Market, wherenine persons died.

  At a season so awful, it may be imagined how an impressive address, likethat delivered by the grocer, would be received by those who saw in thepestilence, not merely an overwhelming scourge from which few couldescape, but a direct manifestation of the Divine displeasure. Not a wordwas said. Blaize Shotterel, the porter, and old Josyna, his mother,together with Patience, the other woman-servant, betook themselvessilently, and with troubled countenances, to the kitchen. Leonard Holt,the apprentice, lingered for a moment to catch a glance from the softblue eyes of Amabel, the grocer's eldest daughter (for even the plaguewas a secondary consideration with him when she was present), andfailing in the attempt, he heaved a deep sigh, which was luckily laid tothe account of the discourse he had just listened to by hissharp-sighted master, and proceeded to the shop, where he busied himselfin arranging matters for the night.

  Having just completed his twenty-first year, and his apprenticeshipbeing within a few months of its expiration, Leonard Holt began to thinkof returning to his native town of Manchester, where he intended tosettle, and where he had once fondly hoped the fair Amabel wouldaccompany him, in the character of his bride. Not that he had everventured to declare his passion, nor that he had received sufficientencouragement to make it matter of certainty that if he did so declarehimself, he should be accepted; but being both "proper and tall," andhaving tolerable confidence in his good looks, he had made himself, upto a short time prior to his introduction to the reader, quite easy onthe point.

  His present misgivings were occasioned by Amabel's altered mannertowards him, and by a rival who, he had reason to fear, had completelysuperseded him in her good graces. Brought up together from an earlyage, the grocer's daughter and the young apprentice had at firstregarded each other as brother and sister. By degrees, the feelingchanged; Amabel became more reserved, and held little intercourse withLeonard, who, busied with his own concerns, thought little about her.But, as he grew towards manhood, he could not rem
ain insensible to herextraordinary beauty--for extraordinary it was, and such as to attractadmiration wherever she went, so that the "Grocer's Daughter" became thetoast among the ruffling gallants of the town, many of whom sought toobtain speech with her. Her parents, however, were far too careful topermit any such approach. Amabel's stature was lofty; her limbs slight,but exquisitely symmetrical; her features small, and cast in the mostdelicate mould; her eyes of the softest blue; and her hair luxuriant,and of the finest texture and richest brown. Her other beauties must beleft to the imagination; but it ought not to be omitted that she wasbarely eighteen, and had all the freshness, the innocence, and vivacityof that most charming period of woman's existence. No wonder sheravished every heart. No wonder, in an age when love-making was moregeneral even than now, that she was beset by admirers. No wonder herfather's apprentice became desperately enamoured of her, andproportionately jealous.

  And this brings us to his rival. On the 10th of April, two gallants,both richly attired, and both young and handsome, dismounted before thegrocer's door, and, leaving their steeds to the care of theirattendants, entered the shop. They made sundry purchases of conserves,figs, and other dried fruit, chatted familiarly with the grocer, andtarried so long, that at last he began to suspect they must have somemotive. All at once, however, they disagreed on some slightmatter--Bloundel could not tell what, nor, perhaps, could thedisputants, even if their quarrel was not preconcerted--high wordsarose, and in another moment, swords were drawn, and furious passesexchanged. The grocer called to his eldest son, a stout youth ofnineteen, and to Leonard Holt, to separate them. The apprentice seizedhis cudgel--no apprentice in those days was without one--and rushedtowards the combatants, but before he could interfere, the fray wasended. One of them had received a thrust through the sword arm, and hisblade dropping, his antagonist declared himself satisfied, and with agrave salute walked off. The wounded man wrapped a lace handkerchiefround his arm, but immediately afterwards complained of great faintness.Pitying his condition, and suspecting no harm, the grocer led him intoan inner room, where restoratives were offered by Mrs. Bloundel and herdaughter Amabel, both of whom had been alarmed by the noise of theconflict. In a short time, the wounded man was so far recovered as to beable to converse with his assistants, especially the younger one; andthe grocer having returned to the shop, his discourse became so veryanimated and tender, that Mrs. Bloundel deemed it prudent to give herdaughter a hint to retire. Amabel reluctantly obeyed, for the youngstranger was so handsome, so richly dressed, had such a captivatingmanner, and so distinguished an air, that she was strongly prepossessedin his favour. A second look from her mother, however, caused her todisappear, nor did she return. After waiting with suppressed anxiety forsome time, the young gallant departed, overwhelming the good dame withhis thanks, and entreating permission to call again. This wasperemptorily refused, but, notwithstanding the interdiction, he came onthe following day. The grocer chanced to be out at the time, and thegallant, who had probably watched him go forth, deriding theremonstrances of the younger Bloundel and Leonard, marched straight tothe inner room, where he found the dame and her daughter. They were muchdisconcerted at his appearance, and the latter instantly rose with theintention of retiring, but the gallant caught her arm and detained her.

  "Do not fly me, Amabel," he cried, in an impassioned tone, "but sufferme to declare the love I have for you. I cannot live without you."

  Amabel, whose neck and cheeks were crimsoned with blushes, cast down hereyes before the ardent regards of the gallant, and endeavoured towithdraw her hand.

  "One word only," he continued, "and I release you. Am I whollyindifferent to you! Answer me--yes or no!"

  "Do _not_ answer him, Amabel," interposed her mother. "He is deceivingyou. He loves you not. He would ruin you. This is the way with all thesecourt butterflies. Tell him you hate him, child, and bid him begone."

  "But I cannot tell him an untruth, mother," returned Amabel, artlessly,"for I do _not_ hate him."

  "Then you love me," cried the young man, falling on his knees, andpressing her hand to his lips. "Tell me so, and make me the happiest ofmen."

  But Amabel had now recovered from the confusion into which she had beenthrown, and, alarmed at her own indiscretion, forcibly withdrew herhand, exclaiming in a cold tone, and with much natural dignity, "Arise,sir. I will not tolerate these freedoms. My mother is right--you havesome ill design."

  "By my soul, no!" cried the gallant, passionately. "I love you, andwould make you mine."

  "No doubt," remarked Mrs. Bloundel, contemptuously, "but not bymarriage."

  "Yes, by marriage," rejoined the gallant, rising. "If she will consent,I will wed her forthwith."

  Both Amabel and her mother looked surprised at the young man'sdeclaration, which was uttered with a fervour that seemed to leave nodoubt of its sincerity; but the latter, fearing some artifice, replied,"If what you say is true, and you really love my daughter as much as youpretend, this is not the way to win her; for though she can have nopretension to wed with one of your seeming degree, nor is it for herhappiness that she should, yet, were she sought by the proudest noble inthe land, she shall never, if I can help it, be lightly won. If yourintentions are honourable, you must address yourself, in the firstplace, to her father, and if he agrees (which I much doubt) that youshall become her suitor, I can make no objection. Till this is settled,I must pray you to desist from further importunity."

  "And so must I," added Amabel. "I cannot give you a hope till you havespoken to my father."

  "Be it so," replied the gallant. "I will tarry here till his return."

  So saying, he was about to seat himself, but Mrs. Bloundel preventedhim.

  "I cannot permit this, sir," she cried. "Your tarrying here may, foraught I know, bring scandal upon my house;--I am sure it will bedisagreeable to my husband. I am unacquainted with your name andcondition. You may be a man of rank. You may be one of the profligateand profane crew who haunt the court. You may be the worst of them all,my Lord Rochester himself. He is about your age, I have heard, andthough a mere boy in years, is a veteran in libertinism. But, whoeveryou are, and whatever your rank and station may be, unless yourcharacter will bear the strictest scrutiny, I am certain StephenBloundel will never consent to your union with his daughter."

  "Nay, mother," observed Amabel, "you judge the gentleman unjustly. I amsure he is neither a profligate gallant himself, nor a companion ofsuch--especially of the wicked Earl of Rochester."

  "I pretend to be no better than I am," replied the young man, repressinga smile that rose to his lips at Mrs. Bloundel's address; "but I shallreform when I am married. It would be impossible to be inconstant to sofair a creature as Amabel. For my rank, I have none. My condition isthat of a private gentleman,--my name, Maurice Wyvil."

  "What you say of yourself, Mr. Maurice Wyvil, convinces me you will meetwith a decided refusal from my husband," returned Mrs. Bloundel.

  "I trust not," replied Wyvil, glancing tenderly at Amabel. "If I shouldbe so fortunate as to gain _his_ consent, have I _yours_?"

  "It is too soon to ask that question," she rejoined, blushing deeply."And now, sir, you must go, indeed, you must. You distress my mother."

  "If I do not distress _you_, I will stay," resumed Wyvil, with animploring look.

  "You _do_ distress me," she answered, averting her gaze.

  "Nay, then, I must tear myself away," he rejoined. "I shall returnshortly, and trust to find your father less flinty-hearted than he isrepresented."

  He would have clasped Amabel in his arms, and perhaps snatched a kiss,if her mother had not rushed between them.

  "No more familiarities, sir," she cried angrily; "no court manners here.If you look to wed my daughter, you must conduct yourself moredecorously; but I can tell you, you have no chance--none whatever."

  "Time will show," replied Wyvil, audaciously. "You had better give herto me quietly, and save me the trouble of carrying her off,--for haveher I will."

  "Mercy on us!"
cried Mrs. Bloundel, in accents of alarm; "now his wickedintentions are out."

  "Fear nothing, mother," observed Amabel, coldly. "He will scarcely carryme off without my own consent; and I am not likely to sacrifice myselffor one who holds me in such light esteem."

  "Forgive me, Amabel," rejoined Wyvil, in a voice so penitent that itinstantly effaced her displeasure; "I meant not to offend. I spoke onlythe language of distraction. Do not dismiss me thus, or my death willlie at your door."

  "I should be sorry for that," she replied; "but, inexperienced as I am,I feel this is not the language of real regard, but of furious passion."

  A dark shade passed over Wyvil's handsome features, and the almostfeminine beauty by which they were characterized gave place to a fierceand forbidding expression. Controlling himself by a powerful effort, hereplied, with forced calmness, "Amabel, you know not what it is to love.I will not stir hence till I have seen your father."

  "We will see that, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Bloundel, angrily. "What, ho!son Stephen! Leonard Holt! I say. This gentleman _will_ stay here,whether I like or not. Show him forth."

  "That I will, right willingly," replied the apprentice, rushing beforethe younger Bloundel, and flourishing his formidable cudgel. "Out withyou, sir! Out with you!"

  "Not at your bidding you, saucy knave," rejoined Wyvil, laying his handupon his sword: "and if it were not for the presence of your mistressand her lovely daughter, I would crop your ears for your insolence."

  "Their presence shall not prevent me from making my cudgel and yourshoulders acquainted, if you do not budge," replied the apprentice,sturdily.

  Enraged by the retort, Wyvil would have drawn his sword, but a blow onthe arm disabled him.

  "Plague on you, fellow!" he exclaimed; "you shall rue this to the lastday of your existence."

  "Threaten those who heed you," replied Leonard, about to repeat theblow.

  "Do him no further injury!" cried Amabel, arresting his hand, andlooking with the greatest commiseration at Wyvil. "You have dealt withhim far too rudely already."

  "Since I have your sympathy, sweet Amabel," rejoined Wyvil, "I care notwhat rude treatment I experience from this churl. We shall soon meetagain." And bowing to her, he strode out of the room.

  Leonard followed him to the shop-door, hoping some further pretext forquarrel would arise, but he was disappointed. Wyvil took no notice ofhim, and proceeded at a slow pace towards Cheapside.

  Half an hour afterwards, Stephen Bloundel came home. On being informedof what had occurred, he was greatly annoyed, though he concealed hisvexation, and highly applauded his daughter's conduct. Without furthercomment, he proceeded about his business, and remained in the shop tillit was closed. Wyvil did not return, and the grocer tried to persuadehimself they should see nothing more of him. Before Amabel retired torest, he imprinted a kiss on her snowy brow, and said, in a tone of theutmost kindness, "You have never yet deceived me, child, and I hopenever will. Tell me truly, do you take any interest in this younggallant?"

  Amabel blushed deeply.

  "I should not speak the truth, father," she rejoined, after a pause, "ifI were to say I do not."

  "I am sorry for it," replied Bloundel, gravely. "But you would not behappy with him. I am sure he is unprincipled and profligate:--you mustforget him."

  "I will try to do so," sighed Amabel. And the conversation dropped.

  On the following day, Maurice Wyvil entered the grocer's shop. He wasmore richly attired than before, and there was a haughtiness in hismanner which he had not hitherto assumed. What passed between him andBloundel was not known, for the latter never spoke of it; but the resultmay be gathered from the fact that the young gallant was not allowed aninterview with the grocer's daughter.

  From this moment the change previously noticed took place in Amabel'sdemeanour towards Leonard. She seemed scarcely able to endure hispresence, and sedulously avoided his regards. From being habitually gayand cheerful, she became pensive and reserved. Her mother more than oncecaught her in tears; and it was evident, from many other signs, thatWyvil completely engrossed her thoughts. Fully aware of this, Mrs.Bloundel said nothing of it to her husband, because the subject waspainful to him; and not supposing the passion deeply rooted, she hopedit would speedily wear away. But she was mistaken--the flame was keptalive in Amabel's breast in a manner of which she was totally ignorant.Wyvil found means to deceive the vigilance of the grocer and his wife,but he could not deceive the vigilance of a jealous lover. Leonarddiscovered that his mistress had received a letter. He would not betrayher, but he determined to watch her narrowly.

  Accordingly, when she went forth one morning in company with her youngersister (a little girl of some five years old), he made an excuse tofollow them, and, keeping within sight, perceived them enter SaintPaul's Cathedral, the mid aisle of which was then converted into apublic walk, and generally thronged with town gallants, bullies,bona-robas, cut-purses, and rogues of every description. In short, itwas the haunt of the worst of characters of the metropolis. When,therefore, Amabel entered this structure, Leonard felt certain it was tomeet her lover. Rushing forward, he saw her take her course through thecrowd, and attract general attention from her loveliness--but he nowherediscerned Maurice Wyvil.

  Suddenly, however, she struck off to the right, and halted near one ofthe pillars, and the apprentice, advancing, detected his rival behindit. He was whispering a few words in her ear, unperceived by her sister.Maddened by the sight, Leonard hurried towards them, but before he couldreach the spot Wyvil was gone, and Amabel, though greatly confused,looked at the same time so indignant, that he almost regretted hisprecipitation.

  "You will, of course, make known to my father what you have just seen?"she said in a low tone.

  "If you will promise not to meet that gallant again without myknowledge, I will not," replied Leonard.

  After a moment's reflection, Amabel gave the required promise, and theyreturned to Wood-street together. Satisfied she would not break herword, the apprentice became more easy, and as a week elapsed, andnothing was said to him on the subject, he persuaded himself she wouldnot attempt to meet her lover again.

  Things were in this state at the opening of our tale, but upon the nightin question, Leonard fancied he discerned some agitation in Amabel'smanner towards him, and in consequence of this notion, he sought to meether gaze, as before related, after prayers. While trying to distract histhoughts by arranging sundry firkins of butter, and putting other thingsin order, he heard a light footstep behind him, and turning at thesound, beheld Amabel.

  "Leonard," she whispered, "I promised to tell you when I should nextmeet Maurice Wyvil. He will be here to-night." And without giving himtime to answer, she retired.

  For awhile, Leonard remained in a state almost of stupefaction,repeating to himself, as if unwilling to believe them, the words he hadjust heard. He had not recovered when the grocer entered the shop, andnoticing his haggard looks, kindly inquired if he felt unwell. Theapprentice returned an evasive answer, and half determined to relate allhe knew to his master, but the next moment he changed his intention,and, influenced by that chivalric feeling which always governs those, ofwhatever condition, who love profoundly, resolved not to betray thethoughtless girl, but to trust to his own ingenuity to thwart thedesigns of his rival, and preserve her Acting upon this resolution, hesaid he had a slight headache, and instantly resumed his occupation.

  At nine o'clock, the whole family assembled at supper. The board wasplentifully though plainly spread, but the grocer observed, with someuneasiness, that his apprentice, who had a good appetite in ordinary,ate little or nothing. He kept his eye constantly upon him, and becameconvinced from his manner that something ailed him. Not having anynotion of the truth, and being filled with apprehensions of the plague,his dread was that Leonard was infected by the disease. Supper wasgenerally the pleasantest meal of the day at the grocer's house, but onthis occasion it passed off cheerlessly enough, and a circumstanceoccurred at its close which threw al
l into confusion and distress.Before relating this, however, we must complete our description of thefamily under their present aspect.

  Tall, and of a spare frame, with good features, somewhat austere intheir expression, and of the cast which we are apt to term precise andpuritanical, but tempered with great benevolence, Stephen Bloundel had akeen, deep-seated eye, overshadowed by thick brows, and suffered hislong-flowing grey hair to descend over his shoulders. His forehead washigh and ample, his chin square and well defined, and his generalappearance exceedingly striking. In age he was about fifty. Hisintegrity and fairness of dealing, never once called in question for aperiod of thirty years, had won him the esteem of all who knew him;while his prudence and economy had enabled him, during that time, toamass a tolerable fortune. His methodical habits, and strong religiousprinciples, have been already mentioned. His eldest son was named afterhim, and resembled him both in person and character, promising to treadin his footsteps. The younger sons require little notice at present. Onewas twelve, and the other only half that age; but both appeared toinherit many of their father's good qualities. Basil, the elder, was astout, well-grown lad, and had never known a day's ill-health; whileHubert, the younger, was thin, delicate, and constantly ailing.

  Mrs. Bloundel was a specimen of a city dame of the best kind. She had afew pardonable vanities, which no arguments could overcome--such as alittle ostentation in dress--a little pride in the neatness of herhouse--and a good deal in the beauty of her children, especially in thatof Amabel--as well as in the wealth and high character of her husband,whom she regarded as the most perfect of human beings. These slightfailings allowed for, nothing but good remained. Her conduct wasexemplary in all the relations of life. The tenderest of mothers, andthe most affectionate of wives, she had as much genuine piety andstrictness of moral principles as her husband. Short, plump, andwell-proportioned, though somewhat, perhaps, exceeding the rules ofsymmetry--she had a rich olive complexion, fine black eyes, beaming withgood nature, and an ever-laughing mouth, ornamented by a beautiful setof teeth. To wind up all, she was a few years younger than her husband.

  Amabel has already been described. The youngest girl, Christiana, was apretty little dove-eyed, flaxen-haired child, between four and fiveyears old, and shared the fate of most younger children, being very muchcaressed, and not a little spoiled by her parents.

  The foregoing description of the grocer's family would be incompletewithout some mention of his household. Old Josyna Shotterel, the cook,who had lived with her master ever since his marriage, and had thestrongest attachment for him, was a hale, stout dame, of about sixty,with few infirmities for her years, and with less asperity of temperthan generally belongs to servants of her class. She was a native ofHolland, and came to England early in life, where she married Blaize'sfather, who died soon after their union. An excellent cook in a plainway--indeed, she had no practice in any other--she would brew strong aleand mead, or mix a sack-posset with, any innkeeper in the city.Moreover, she was a careful and tender nurse, if her services were everrequired in that capacity. The children looked upon her as a secondmother; and her affection for them, which was unbounded, deserved theirregard. She was a perfect storehouse of what are termed "old women'sreceipts;" and there were few complaints (except the plague) for whichshe did not think herself qualified to prescribe and able to cure. Herskill in the healing art was often tested by her charitable mistress,who required her to prepare remedies, as well as nourishing broths, forsuch of the poor of the parish as applied to her for relief at times ofsickness.

  Her son, Blaize, was a stout, stumpy fellow, about four feet ten, with ahead somewhat too large for his body, and extremely long arms. Eversince the plague had broken out in Drury-lane, it haunted him like aspectre, and scattered the few faculties he possessed. In vain he triedto combat his alarm--in vain his mother endeavoured to laugh him out ofit. Nothing would do. He read the bills of mortality daily; ascertainedthe particulars of every case; dilated upon the agonies of thesufferers; watched the progress of the infection, and calculated thetime it would take to reach Wood-street. He talked of the pestilence byday, and dreamed of it at night; and more than once alarmed the house byroaring for assistance, under the idea that he was suddenly attacked. Byhis mother's advice, he steeped rue, wormwood, and sage in his drink,till it was so abominably nauseous that he could scarcely swallow it,and carried a small ball in the hollow of his hand, compounded of wax,angelica, camphor, and other drugs. He likewise chewed a small piece ofVirginian snake-root, or zedoary, if he approached any place supposed tobe infected. A dried toad was suspended round his neck, as an amulet ofsovereign virtue. Every nostrum sold by the quacks in the streetstempted him; and a few days before, he had expended his last crown inthe purchase of a bottle of plague-water. Being of a superstitiousnature, he placed full faith in all the predictions of the astrologers,who foretold that London should be utterly laid waste, that grass shouldgrow in the streets, and that the living should not be able to bury thedead. He quaked at the terrible denunciations of the preachers, whoexhorted their hearers to repentance, telling them a judgment was athand, and shuddered at the wild and fearful prophesying of the insaneenthusiasts who roamed the streets. His nativity having been cast, andit appearing that he would be in great danger on the 20th of June, hemade up his mind that he should die of the plague on that day. Before hewas assailed by these terrors, he had entertained a sneaking attachmentfor Patience, the kitchen-maid, a young and buxom damsel, who had noespecial objection to him. But of late, his love had given way toapprehension, and his whole thoughts were centred in one idea, namely,self-preservation.

  By this time supper was over, and the family were about to separate forthe night, when Stephen, the grocer's eldest son, having risen to quitthe room, staggered and complained of a strange dizziness and headache,which almost deprived him of sight, while his heart palpitatedfrightfully. A dreadful suspicion seized his father. He ran towards him,and assisted him to a seat. Scarcely had the young man reached it, whena violent sickness seized him; a greenish-coloured froth appeared at themouth, and he began to grow delirious. Guided by the convulsive effortsof the sufferer, Bloundel tore off his clothes, and after a moment'ssearch, perceived under the left arm a livid pustule. He uttered a cryof anguish. His son was plague-stricken.

  II.

  THE COFFIN-MAKER.

  The first shock over, the grocer bore the affliction manfully, and likeone prepared for it. Exhibiting little outward emotion, though his heartwas torn with anguish, and acting with the utmost calmness, he forbadehis wife to approach the sufferer, and desired her instantly to retireto her own room with her daughters; and not to leave it on anyconsideration whatever, without his permission.

  Accustomed to regard her husband's word as law, Mrs. Bloundel, for thefirst time in her life, disputed his authority, and, falling on herknees, besought him, with tears in her eyes, to allow her to nurse herson. But he remained inflexible, and she was forced to comply.

  He next gave similar directions to old Josyna respecting his two youngersons, with this difference only, that when they were put to rest, andthe door was locked upon them, she was to return to the kitchen andprepare a posset-drink of canary and spirits of sulphur, together with apoultice of mallows, lily-roots, figs, linseed, and palm-oil, for thepatient.

  These orders given and obeyed, with Leonard Holt's assistance-forBlaize, who had crept into a corner, in extremity of terror, was whollyincapable of rendering any help-he conveyed his son to the adjoiningroom, on the ground floor, where there was a bed, and placing him withinit, heaped blankets upon him to promote profuse perspiration, while theapprentice lighted a fire.

  Provided with the most efficacious remedies for the distemper, andacquainted with the mode of treating it prescribed by the College ofPhysicians, Bloundel was at no loss how to act, but, rubbing the partaffected with a stimulating ointment, he administered at the same timedoses of mithridate, Venice treacle, and other potent alexipharmics.

  He had soon the sati
sfaction of perceiving that his son became somewhateasier; and after swallowing the posset-drink prepared by old Josyna,who used all the expedition she could, a moisture broke out upon theyouth's skin, and appeared to relieve him so much, that, but for theghastly paleness of his countenance, and the muddy look of his eye, hisfather would have indulged a hope of his recovery.

  Up to this time, the grocer had acted for himself, and felt confident hehad acted rightly; but he now deemed it expedient to call in advice,and, accordingly, commissioned his apprentice to fetch Doctor Hodges, aphysician, residing in Great Knightrider-street, Doctors' Commons, whohad recently acquired considerable reputation for his skilful treatmentof those attacked by the plague, and who (it may be incidentallymentioned) afterwards gave to the medical world a curious account of theravages of the disorder, as well as of his own professional experiencesduring this terrible period. He likewise told him--and he could notrepress a sigh as he did so--to give notice to the Examiner of Health(there were one or two officers, so designated, appointed to everyparish, at this awful season, by the city authorities) that his housewas infected.

  While preparing to set out, Leonard again debated with himself whetherhe should acquaint his master with Maurice Wyvil's meditated visit. Butconceiving it wholly impossible that Amabel could leave her mother'sroom, even if she were disposed to do so, he determined to let theaffair take its course. On his way to the shop, he entered a small roomoccupied by Blaize, and found him seated near a table, with his handsupon his knees, and his eyes fixed upon the ground, looking the veryimage of despair. The atmosphere smelt like that of an apothecary'sshop, and was so overpowering, that Leonard could scarcely breathe. Thetable was covered with pill-boxes and phials, most of which wereemptied, and a dim light was afforded by a candle with a most portentouscrest of snuff.

  "So you have been poisoning yourself, I perceive," observed Leonard,approaching him.

  "Keep off!" cried the porter, springing suddenly to his feet. "Don'ttouch me, I say. Poisoning myself! I have taken three rufuses, orpestilential pills; two spoonfuls of alexiteral water; the same quantityof anti-pestilential decoction; half as much of Sir Theodore Mayerne'selectuary; and a large dose of orvietan. Do you call that poisoningmyself? I call it taking proper precaution, and would recommend you todo the same. Beside this, I have sprinkled myself with vinegar,fumigated my clothes, and rubbed my nose, inside and out, till itsmarted so intolerably, I was obliged to desist, with balsam ofsulphur."

  "Well, well, if you don't escape the plague, it won't be your fault,"returned Leonard, scarcely able to refrain from laughing. "But I havesomething to tell you before I go."

  "What is the matter?" demanded Blaize, in alarm. "Where--where are yougoing?"

  "To fetch the doctor," replied Leonard.

  "Is Master Stephen worse?" rejoined the porter.

  "On the contrary, I hope he is better," replied Leonard "I shall be backdirectly, but as I have to give notice to the Examiner of Health thatthe house is infected, I may be detained a few minutes longer than Ianticipate. Keep the street-door locked; I will fasten the yard-gate,and do not for your life let any one in, except Doctor Hodges, till Ireturn. Do you hear?--do you understand what I say?"

  "Yes, I hear plain enough," growled Blaize. "You say that the house isinfected, and that we shall all be locked up."

  "Dolt!" exclaimed the apprentice, "I said no such thing." And herepeated his injunctions, but Blaize was too much terrified tocomprehend them. At last, losing all patience, Leonard cried in amenacing tone, "If you do not attend to me, I will cudgel you within aninch of your life, and you will find the thrashing harder to bear eventhan the plague itself. Rouse yourself, fool, and follow me."

  Accompanied by the porter, he hurried to the yard-gate, saw it boltedwithin-side, and then returned to the shop, where, having found his capand cudgel, he directed Blaize to lock the door after him, cautioninghim, for the third time, not to admit any one except the doctor. "If Ifind, on my return, that you have neglected my injunctions," heconcluded, "as sure as I now stand before you, I'll break every bone inyour body."

  Blaize promised obedience, adding in a supplicating tone, "Leonard, if Iwere you, I would not go to the Examiner of Health. Poor Stephen may nothave the plague, after all. It's a dreadful thing to be imprisoned for amonth, for that's the time appointed by the Lord Mayor. Only a week agoI passed several houses in Holborn, shut up on account of the plague,with a watchman at the door, and I never shall forget the melancholyfaces I saw at the windows. It was a dreadful spectacle, and has hauntedme ever since."

  "It cannot be helped," rejoined Leonard, with a sigh. "If we disobey theLord Mayor's orders, and neglect giving information, we shall all besent to Newgate, while poor Stephen will be taken to the pest-house.Besides, the searchers will be here before morning. They are sure tolearn what has happened from Doctor Hodges."

  "True, true," replied Blaize; "I had forgotten that. Let me go with you,dear Leonard. I dare not remain here longer."

  "What! would you leave your kind good master, at a time like this, whenhe most needs your services?" rejoined Leonard, reproachfully. "Out,cowardly hound! I am ashamed of you. Shake off your fears, and be a man.You can but die once; and what matters it whether you die of the plagueor the cholic?"

  "It matters a great deal," replied Blaize. "I am afraid of nothing butthe plague. I am sure I shall be its next victim in this house. But youare right--I cannot desert my kind master, nor my old mother. Farewell,Leonard. Perhaps we may never meet again. I may be dead before you comeback. I feel very ill already."

  "No wonder, after all the stuff you have swallowed," returned Leonard."But pluck up your courage, or you will bring on the very thing you areanxious to avoid. As many people have died from fear as from any othercause. One word before I go. If any one should get into the house byscaling the yard-wall, or through the window, instantly alarm ourmaster."

  "Certainly," returned Blaize, with a look of surprise, "But do youexpect any one to enter the house in that way?"

  "Ask no questions, but do as I bid you," rejoined Leonard, opening thedoor, and about to go forth.

  "Stop a moment," cried Blaize, detaining him, and drawing from hispocket a handful of simples. "Won't you take some of them with you toguard against infection? There's wormwood, woodsorrel, masterwort,zedoary, and angelica; and lastly, there is a little bottle of thesovereign preservative against the plague, as prepared by the great LordBacon, and approved by Queen Elizabeth. Won't you take _that_?"

  "I have no fear," replied Leonard, shutting the door in his face. And ashe lingered for a moment while it was locked, he heard Blaize say tohimself, "I must go and take three more rufuses and a large dose ofdiascordium."

  It was a bright moonlight night, and as the apprentice turned to depart,he perceived a figure hastily retreating on the other side of the way.Making sure it was Maurice Wyvil, though he could not distinguish thegarb of the person--that side of the street being in the shade--andstung by jealousy, he immediately started in pursuit. The fugitivestruck down Lad-lane, and run on till he came to the end ofLawrence-lane, where, finding himself closely pressed, he suddenlyhalted, and pulling his hat over his brows to conceal his features,fiercely confronted his pursuer.

  "Why do you follow me thus, rascal?" he cried, drawing his sword. "Wouldyou rob me? Begone, or I will call the watch."

  "It _is_ his voice!" cried the apprentice. "I have news for you, Mr.Maurice Wyvil. You will not see Amabel to-night. The plague is in herfather's house."

  "The plague!" exclaimed Wyvil, in an altered tone, and dropping thepoint of his sword. "Is she smitten by it?"

  The apprentice answered by a bitter laugh, and without tarrying longerto enjoy his rival's distress, set off towards Cheapside. Beforereaching the end of Lawrence-lane, however, he half-repented hisconduct, and halted to see whether Wyvil was following him; but as hecould perceive nothing of him, he continued his course.

  Entering Cheapside, he observed, to his surprise, a crowd of personsc
ollected near the Cross, then standing a little to the east ofWood-street. This cross, which was of great antiquity, and had undergonemany mutilations and alterations since its erection in 1486, when itboasted, amongst other embellishments, images of the Virgin and SaintEdward the Confessor, was still not without some pretensions toarchitectural beauty. In form it was hexagonal, and composed of threetiers, rising from one another like the divisions of a telescope, eachangle being supported by a pillar surmounted by a statue, while theintervening niches were filled up with sculptures, intended to representsome of the sovereigns of England. The structure was of considerableheight, and crowned by a large gilt cross. Its base was protected by astrong wooden railing. About a hundred yards to the east, there stood asmaller hexagonal tower, likewise ornamented with carvings, and having afigure on its conical summit blowing a horn. This was the Conduit.Midway between these buildings the crowd alluded to above was collected.

  As Leonard drew near, he found the assemblage was listening to theexhortations of an enthusiast, whom he instantly recognised from adescription he had heard of him from Blaize. The name of thishalf-crazed being was Solomon Eagle. Originally a Quaker, upon theoutbreak of the plague he had abandoned his home and friends, and roamedthe streets at night, denouncing doom to the city. He was a tall gauntman, with long jet-black hair hanging in disordered masses over hisshoulders. His eyes were large and black, and blazed with insane lustre,and his looks were so wild and terrific, that it required no greatstretch of imagination to convert him into the genius of the pestilence.Entirely stripped of apparel except that his loins were girt with asheep-skin, in imitation of Saint John in the Wilderness, he bore uponhis head a brazier of flaming coals, the lurid light of which fallingupon his sable locks and tawny skin, gave him an unearthly appearance.

  Impelled by curiosity, Leonard paused for a moment to listen, and heardhim thunder forth the following denunciation:--"And now, therefore, asthe prophet Jeremiah saith, 'I have this day declared it to you, but yehave not obeyed the voice of the Lord your God, nor anything for thewhich he hath sent me unto you. Now, therefore, know certainly that yeshall die by the sword, by the famine, and by the pestilence.' Again, inthe words of the prophet Amos, the Lord saith unto YOU by my mouth, 'Ihave sent among you the pestilence after the manner of Egypt, yet haveyou not returned unto me. Therefore, will I do this unto thee, O Israel;and because I will do this unto thee, prepare to meet thy God?' Do youhear this, O sinners? God will proceed against you in the day of Hiswrath, though He hath borne with you in the day of His patience? O howmany hundred years hath He spared this city, notwithstanding its greatprovocations and wickedness! But now He will no longer show it pity, butwill pour out His wrath upon it I Plagues shall come upon it, anddesolation; and it shall be utterly burnt with fire,--for strong is theLord who judgeth it!"

  His address concluded, the enthusiast started off at a swift pace,shrieking, in a voice that caused many persons to throw open theirwindows to listen to him, "Awake! sinners, awake'--the plague is atyour doors!--the grave yawns for you!--awake, and repent!" And followedby the crowd, many of whom kept up with him, he ran on vociferating inthis manner till he was out of hearing.

  Hurrying forward in the opposite direction, Leonard glanced at theancient and picturesque houses on either side of the way,--now bathedin the moonlight, and apparently hushed in repose and security,--and hecould not repress a shudder as he reflected that an evil angel was,indeed, abroad, who might suddenly arouse their slumbering inmates todespair and death. His thoughts took another turn as he entered theprecincts of Saint Paul's, and surveyed the venerable and majesticfabric before him. His eyes rested upon its innumerable crocketedpinnacles, its buttresses, its battlements, and upon the magnificentrose-window terminating the choir. The apprentice had no especial lovefor antiquity, but being of an imaginative turn, the sight of thisreverend structure conjured up old recollections, and brought to mindthe noble Collegiate Church of his native town.

  "Shall I ever see Manchester again?" he sighed: "shall I take Amabelwith me there? Alas! I doubt it. If I survive the plague, she, I fear,will never be mine."

  Musing thus, he scanned the roof of the cathedral, and noticing itsstunted central tower, could not help thinking how much more strikingits effects must have been, when the lofty spire it once supported wasstanding. The spire, it may be remarked, was twice destroyed bylightning; first in February, 1444, and subsequently in June, 1561, whenit was entirely burnt down, and never rebuilt. Passing the ConvocationHouse, which then stood at one side of the southern transept, Leonardstruck down Paul's Chain, and turning to the right, speeded along GreatKnightrider-street, until he reached an old habitation at the corner ofthe passage leading to Doctors' Commons.

  Knocking at the door, an elderly servant presently appeared, and inanswer to his inquiries whether Doctor Hodges was at home, stated thathe had gone out, about half an hour ago, to attend Mr. Fisher, aproctor, who had been suddenly attacked by the plague at his residencein Bartholomew-close, near Smithfield.

  "I am come on the same errand," said Leonard, "and must see your masterinstantly."

  "If you choose to go to Bartholomew-close," replied the servant, "youmay probably meet with him. Mr. Fisher's house is the last but two, onthe right, before you come to the area in front of the church."

  "I can easily find it," returned Leonard, "and will run there as fast asI can. But if your master should pass me on the road, beseech him to goinstantly to Stephen Bloundell's, the grocer, in Wood-street."

  The servant assenting, Leonard hastily retraced his steps, andtraversing Blow-bladder-street and Saint-Martin's-le-Grand, passedthrough Aldersgate. He then shaped his course through the windings ofLittle Britain and entered Duck-lane. He was now in a quarter fearfullyassailed by the pestilence. Most of the houses had the fatal sign upontheir doors--a red cross, of a foot long, with the piteous words aboveit, "Lord have mercy upon us," in characters so legible that they couldbe easily distinguished by the moonlight, while a watchman, with ahalberd in his hand, kept guard outside.

  Involuntarily drawing in his breath, Leonard quickened his pace. But hemet with an unexpected and fearful interruption. Just as he reached thenarrow passage leading from Duck-lane to Bartholomew-close, he heard theringing of a bell, followed by a hoarse voice, crying, "Bring out yourdead--bring out your dead!" he then perceived that a large,strangely-shaped cart stopped up the further end of the passage, andheard a window open, and a voice call out that all was ready. The nextmoment a light was seen at the door, and a coffin was brought out andplaced in the cart. This done, the driver, who was smoking a pipe,cracked his whip, and put the vehicle in motion.

  Shrinking into a doorway, and holding a handkerchief to his face, toavoid breathing the pestilential effluvia, Leonard saw that there wereother coffins in the cart, and that it was followed by two persons inlong black cloaks. The vehicle itself, fashioned like an open hearse,and of the same sombre colour, relieved by fantastical designs, paintedin white, emblematic of the pestilence, was drawn by a horse of thelarge black Flanders breed, and decorated with funeral trappings. ToLeonard's inexpressible horror, the cart again stopped opposite him, andthe driver ringing his bell, repeated his doleful cry. While anothercoffin was brought out, and placed with the rest, a window in the nexthouse was opened, and a woman looking forth screamed, "Is AnselmChowles, the coffin-maker, there?"

  "Yes, here I am, Mother Malmayns," replied one of the men in blackcloaks, looking up as he spoke, and exhibiting features so hideous, andstamped with such a revolting expression, that Leonard's blood curdledat the sight. "What do you want with me?" he added.

  "I want you to carry away old Mike Norborough," replied the woman.

  "What, is the old miser gone at last?" exclaimed Chowles, with anatrocious laugh. "But how shall I get paid for a coffin?"

  "You may pay yourself with what you can find in the house," repliedMother Malmayns; "or you may carry him to the grave without one, if youprefer it."

  "No, no, that won't do,
" returned Chowles. "I've other customers toattend to who _will_ pay; and, besides, I want to get home. I expectfriends at supper. Good-night, Mother Malmayns. You know where to findme, if you want me. Move on, Jonas, or you will never reach SaintSepulchre's."

  The woman angrily expostulated with him, and some further parleyensued,--Leonard did not tarry to hear what, but rushing past them,gained Bartholomew-close.

  He soon reached the proctor's house, and found it marked with the fatalcross. Addressing a watchman at the door, he learnt, to his greatdismay, that Doctor Hodges had been gone more than a quarter of an hour."He was too late," said the man. "Poor Mr. Fisher had breathed his lastbefore he arrived, and after giving some directions to the family as tothe precautions they ought to observe, the doctor departed."

  "How unfortunate!" exclaimed Leonard, "I have missed him a second time.But I will run back to his house instantly."

  "You will not find him at home," returned the watchman "He is gone toSaint Paul's, to attend a sick person."

  "To Saint Paul's at this hour!" cried the apprentice. "Why, no one isthere, except the vergers or the sexton."

  "He is gone to visit the sexton, who is ill of the plague," replied thewatchman. "I have told you all I know about him. You can do what youthink best."

  Determined to make another effort before giving in, Leonard hurried backas fast as he could. While threading Duck-lane, he heard the dolefulbell again, and perceived the dead-cart standing before a house, fromwhich two small coffins were brought. Hurrying past the vehicle, heremarked that its load was fearfully increased, but that thecoffin-maker and his companion had left it. Another minute had notelapsed before he reached Aldersgate, and passing through the postern,he beheld a light at the end of Saint Anne's-lane, and heard theterrible voice of Solomon Eagle, calling to the sleepers to awake andrepent.

  Shutting his ears to the cry, Leonard did not halt till he reached thegreat western door of the cathedral, against which he knocked. His firstsummons remaining unanswered, he repeated it, and a wicket was thenopened by a grey-headed verger, with a lantern in his hand, who at firstwas very angry at being disturbed; but on learning whom the applicantwas in search of, and that the case was one of urgent necessity, headmitted that the doctor was in the cathedral at the time.

  "Or rather, I should say," he added, "he is in Saint Faith's. I willconduct you to him, if you think proper. Doctor Hodges is a good man,--acharitable man," he continued, "and attends the poor for nothing. He isnow with Matthew Malmayns, the sexton, who was taken ill of the plagueyesterday, and will get nothing but thanks--if he gets those--for hisfee. But, follow me, young man, follow me."

  So saying, he shut the wicket, and led the way along the transept. Thepath was uneven, many of the flags having been removed, and the vergeroften paused to throw a light upon the ground, and warn his companion ofa hole.

  On arriving at the head of the nave, Leonard cast his eyes down it, andwas surprised at the magical effect of the moonlight upon itsmagnificent avenue of pillars; the massive shafts on the left beingcompletely illuminated by the silvery beams, while those on the rightlay in deep shadow.

  "Ay, it is a noble structure," replied the old verger, noticing his lookof wonder and admiration, "and, like many a proud human being, has knownbetter days. It has seen sad changes in my time, for I recollect it whengood Queen Bess ruled the land. But come along, young man,--you havesomething else to think of now."

  Bestowing a momentary glance upon the matchless choir, with its groinedroof, its clerestory windows, its arched openings, its carved stalls,and its gorgeous rose-window, Leonard followed his conductor through asmall doorway on the left of the southern transept, and descending aflight of stone steps, entered a dark and extensive vault, for such itseemed. The feeble light of the lantern fell upon ranks of short heavypillars, supporting a ponderous arched roof.

  "You are now in Saint Faith's," observed the verger, "and above you isthe choir of Saint Paul's."

  Leonard took no notice of the remark, but silently crossing the nave ofthis beautiful subterranean church (part of which still exists),traversed its northern aisle. At length the verger stopped before theentrance of a small chapel, once dedicated to Saint John the Baptist,but now devoted to a less sacred purpose. As they advanced, Leonardobserved a pile of dried skulls and bones in one corner, a stone coffin,strips of woollen shrouds, fragments of coffins, mattocks, and spades.It was evidently half a charnel, half a receptacle for the sexton'stools.

  "If you choose to open that door," said the verger, pointing to one atthe lower end of the chamber, "you will find him you seek. I shall go nofurther."

  Summoning up all his resolution, Leonard pushed open the door. Afrightful scene met his gaze. At one side of a deep, low-roofed vault,the architecture of which was of great antiquity, and showed that it hadbeen a place of burial, was stretched a miserable pallet, and upon it,covered by a single blanket, lay a wretch, whose groans and strugglesproclaimed the anguish he endured. A lamp was burning on the floor, andthrew a sickly light upon the agonized countenance of the sufferer. Hewas a middle-aged man, with features naturally harsh, but which now,contracted by pain, had assumed a revolting expression. An old crone,who proved to be his mother, and a young man, who held him down in bedby main force, tended him. He was rambling in a frightful manner; and ashis ravings turned upon the most loathly matters, it required somefirmness to listen to them.

  At a little distance from him, upon a bench, sat a stout,shrewd-looking, but benevolent little personage, somewhat between fortyand fifty. This was Doctor Hodges. He had a lancet in his hand, withwhich he had just operated upon the sufferer, and he was in the act ofwiping it on a cloth. As Leonard entered the vault, the doctor observedto the attendants of the sick man, "He will recover. The tumour hasdischarged its venom. Keep him as warm as you can, and do not let himleave his bed for two days. All depends upon that. I will send himproper medicines and some blankets shortly. If he takes cold, it will befatal."

  The young man promised to attend to the doctor's injunctions, and theold woman mumbled her thanks.

  "Where is Judith Malmayns?" asked Doctor Hodges: "I am surprised not tosee her. Is she afraid of the distemper?"

  "Afraid of it!--not she," replied the old woman. "Since the plague hasraged so dreadfully, she has gone out as a nurse to the sick, and mypoor son has seen nothing of her."

  Leonard then recollected that he had heard the woman, who called out ofthe miser's house, addressed as Mother Malmayns by the coffin-maker, andhad no doubt that she was the sexton's wife. His entrance having been sonoiseless that it passed unnoticed, he now stepped forward, and,addressing Doctor Hodges, acquainted him with his errand.

  "What!" exclaimed the doctor, as soon as he concluded, "a son of StephenBloundel, the worthy grocer of Wood-street, attacked by the plague! Iwill go with you instantly, young man. I have a great regard for yourmaster--a very great regard. There is not a better man living. The poorlad must be saved, if possible." And hastily repeating his instructionsto the attendants of the sick man, he left the vault with theapprentice.

  They found the verger in the charnel, and before quitting it, the doctordrew a small flask of canary from his pocket, and applied it to hislips.

  "This is my anti-pestilential drink," he remarked with a smile, "and ithas preserved me from contagion hitherto. You must let us out of thesouth door, friend," he added to the verger, "for I shall be obliged tostep home for a moment, and it will save time. Come with me, young man,and tell me what has been done for the grocer's son."

  As they traversed the gloomy aisle of Saint Faith, and mounted to theupper structure, Leonard related all that had taken place since poorStephen's seizure. The doctor strongly expressed his approval of whathad been done, and observed, "It could not be better. With Heaven'shelp, I have no doubt we shall save him, and I am truly glad of it forhis father's sake."

  By this time they had reached the southern door, and the verger havingunlocked it, they issued forth. It was still bright moo
nlight, andLeonard, whose mind was greatly relieved by the assurances of thephysician, felt in some degree reconciled to the delay, and kept up hispart in the conversation promoted by his companion. The doctor, who wasan extremely kind-hearted man, and appeared to have a great regard forthe grocer, made many inquiries as to his family, and spoke in terms ofthe highest admiration of the beauty of his eldest daughter. The mentionof Amabel's name, while it made Leonard's cheek burn, rekindled all hisjealousy of Wyvil, and he tried to make some excuse to get away, but hiscompanion would not hear of it.

  "I tell you there is no hurry," said the doctor; "all is going on aswell as possible. I will make your excuses to your master."

  "On reaching the doctor's house they were ushered into a large room,surrounded with bookshelves and cases of anatomical preparations. Hodgesseated himself at a table, on which a shaded lamp was placed, andwriting out a prescription, desired his servant to get it made up at aneighbouring apothecary's, and to take it, with a couple of blankets, tothe sexton of Saint Paul's. He then produced a bottle of medicatedcanary, and pouring out a large glass for the apprentice, drainedanother himself.

  "I will answer for its virtue," he said: "it is a sure preservativeagainst the plague."

  Having furnished himself with several small packets of simples, a fewpots of ointment, one or two phials, and a case of surgical instruments,he told Leonard he was ready to attend him.

  "We will go round by Warwick-lane," he added. "I must call upon Chowles,the coffin-maker. It will not detain us a moment; and I have an order togive him."

  The mention of this name brought to Leonard's mind the hideous attendanton the dead-cart, and he had no doubt he was the person in question. Itdid not become him, however, to make a remark, and they set out.

  Mounting Addle-hill, and threading Ave-Maria-lane, they enteredWarwick-lane, and about half-way up the latter thoroughfare, the doctorstopped before a shop, bearing on its immense projecting sign therepresentation of a coffin lying in state, and covered with scutcheons,underneath which was written, "ANSELM CHOWLES, COFFIN-MAKER."

  "I do not think you will find Mr. Chowles at home," observed Leonard:"for I saw him with the dead-cart not half an hour ago."

  "Very likely," returned the doctor; "but I shall see one of his men. Thecoffin-maker's business is now carried on in the night time," he added,with a sigh; "and he drives a flourishing trade. These sad times willmake his fortune."

  As he spoke, he rapped with his cane at the door, which, after a littledelay, was opened by a young man in a carpenter's dress, with a hammerin his hand. On seeing who it was, this person exhibited greatconfusion, and would have retired; but the doctor, pushing him aside,asked for his master.

  "You cannot see him just now, sir," replied the other, evidentlyconsiderably embarrassed. "He is just come home greatly fatigued, and isabout to retire to rest."

  "No matter," returned the doctor, entering a room, in which three orfour other men were at work, hastily finishing coffins; "I _must_ seehim."

  No further opposition being offered, Hodges, followed by the apprentice,marched towards an inner room. Just as he reached the door, a burst ofloud laughter, evidently proceeding from a numerous party, arose fromwithin, and a harsh voice was heard chanting the following strains:

  SONG OF THE PLAGUE. To others the Plague a foe may be, To me 'tis a friend--not an enemy; My coffins and coffers alike it fills, And the richer I grow the more it kills. _Drink the Plague! Drink the Plague!_

  For months, for years, may it spend its rage On lusty manhood and trembling age; Though half mankind of the scourge should die, My coffins will sell--so what care I? _Drink the Plague! Drink the Plague!_

  Loud acclamations followed the song, and the doctor, who was filled withdisgust and astonishment, opened the door. He absolutely recoiled at thescene presented to his gaze. In the midst of a large room, the sides ofwhich were crowded with coffins, piled to the very ceiling, sat about adozen personages, with pipes in their mouths, and flasks and glassesbefore them. Their seats were coffins, and their table was a coffin setupon a bier. Perched on a pyramid of coffins, gradually diminishing insize as the pile approached its apex, Chowles was waving a glass in onehand, and a bottle in the other, when the doctor made his appearance.

  A more hideous personage cannot be imagined than the coffin-maker. Hewas clothed in a suit of rusty black, which made his skeleton limbs lookyet more lean and cadaverous. His head was perfectly bald, and itsyellow skin, divested of any artificial covering, glistened likepolished ivory. His throat was long and scraggy, and supported a headunrivalled for ugliness. His nose had been broken in his youth, and wasalmost compressed flat with his face. His few remaining teeth wereyellow and discoloured with large gaps between them. His eyes werebright, and set in deep cavernous recesses, and, now that he was morethan half-intoxicated, gleamed with unnatural lustre. The friends bywhom he was surrounded were congenial spirits,--searchers, watchmen,buriers, apothecaries, and other wretches, who, like himself, rejoicedin the pestilence, because it was a source of profit to them.

  At one corner of the room, with a part-emptied glass before her, andseveral articles in her lap, which she hastily pocketed on the entranceof the doctor, sat the plague-nurse, Mother Malmayns; and Leonardthought her, if possible, more villainous-looking than her companions.She was a rough, raw-boned woman, with sandy hair and light brows, asallow, freckled complexion, a nose with wide nostrils, and a large,thick-lipped mouth. She had, moreover, a look of mingled cunning andferocity inexpressibly revolting.

  Sharply rebuking Chowles, who, in springing from his lofty seat, upsetseveral of the topmost coffins, the doctor gave him some directions,and, turning to the nurse, informed her of her husband's condition, andordered her to go to him immediately. Mother Malmayns arose, and glancingsignificantly at the coffin-maker, took her departure.

  Repeating his injunctions to Chowles in a severe tone, the doctorfollowed; and seeing her take the way towards Saint Paul's, proceeded ata brisk pace along Paternoster-row with the apprentice. In a few minutesthey reached Wood-street, and knocking at the door, were admitted byBlaize.

  "Heaven be praised, you are come at last!" exclaimed the porter. "Ourmaster began to think something had happened to you."

  "It is all my fault," returned Doctor Hodges; "but how is the youngman?"

  "Better, much better, as I understand," replied Blaize; "but I have notseen him."

  "Come, that's well," rejoined Hodges. "Lead me to his room."

  "Leonard will show you the way," returned the porter, holding back.

  Glancing angrily at Blaize, the apprentice conducted the doctor to theinner room, where they found the grocer, with the Bible on his knee,watching by the bedside of his son. He was delighted with theirappearance, but looked inquisitively at his apprentice for someexplanation of his long absence. This Hodges immediately gave; and,having examined the sufferer, he relieved the anxious father bydeclaring, that, with due care, he had little doubt of his son'srecovery.

  "God be praised!" exclaimed Bloundel, falling on his knees.

  Hodges then gave minute directions to the grocer as to how he was toproceed, and told him it would be necessary for some time to keep hisfamily separate. To this Bloundel readily agreed. The doctor's nextinquiries were, whether notice had been given to the Examiner of Health,and the grocer referring to Leonard, the latter acknowledged that he hadforgotten it, but undertook to repair his omission at once.

  With this view, he quitted the room, and was hastening towards the shop,when he observed a figure on the back stairs. Quickly mounting them, heovertook on the landing Maurice Wyvil.

  * * * * *

  III.

  THE GAMESTER AND THE BULLY.

  Before proceeding further, it will be necessary to retrace our steps fora short time, and see what was done by Maurice Wyvil after the alarmingannouncement made to him by the apprentice. Of a selfish nature andungovernable temper, and seeking only in the pursuit of t
he grocer'sdaughter the gratification of his lawless desires, he was filled, in thefirst instance, with furious disappointment at being robbed of theprize, at the very moment he expected it to fall into his hands. Butthis feeling was quickly effaced by anxiety respecting his mistress,whose charms, now that there was every probability of losing her (forLeonard's insinuation had led him to believe she was assailed by thepestilence), appeared doubly attractive to him; and scarcely under thegovernance of reason, he hurried towards Wood-street, resolved to forcehis way into the house, and see her again, at all hazards. His wilddesign, however, was fortunately prevented. As he passed the end of thecourt leading to the ancient inn (for it was ancient even at the time ofthis history), the Swan-with-two-Necks, in Lad-lane, a young man, asrichly attired as himself, and about his own age, who had seen himapproaching, suddenly darted from it, and grasping his cloak, detainedhim.

  "I thought it must be you, Wyvil," cried this person. "Where are yourunning so quickly? I see neither angry father, nor jealous apprentice,at your heels. What has become of the girl? Are you tired of heralready?"

  "Let me go, Lydyard," returned Wyvil, trying to extricate himself fromhis companion's hold, who was no other than the gallant that hadaccompanied him on his first visit to the grocer's shop, and had playedhis part so adroitly in the scheme devised between them to procure aninterview with Amabel,--"let me go, I say, I am in no mood for jesting."

  "Why, what the plague is the matter?" rejoined Lydyard. "Has yourmistress played you false? Have you lost your wager?"

  "The plague _is_ the matter," replied Wyvil, sternly. "Amabel isattacked by it. I must see her instantly."

  "The devil!" exclaimed Lydyard. "Here is a pretty termination to theaffair. But if this is really the case, you must _not_ see her. It isone thing to be run through the arm,--which you must own I managed asdexterously as the best master of fence could have done,--and lose a fewdrops of blood for a mistress, but it is another to brave the plague onher account."

  "I care for nothing," replied Wyvil; "I _will_ see her."

  "This is madness!" remonstrated Lydyard, still maintaining his grasp."What satisfaction will it afford you to witness her sufferings--to seethe frightful ravages made upon her charms by this remorselessdisease,--to throw her whole family into consternation, and destroy thelittle chance she may have of recovery, by your presence? What good willthis do? No,--you must pay your wager to Sedley, and forget her."

  "I cannot forget her," replied Wyvil. "My feelings have undergone atotal change. If I _am_ capable of real love, it is for her."

  "Real love!" exclaimed Lydyard, in an incredulous tone. "If the subjectwere not too serious, I should laugh in your face. No doubt you wouldmarry her, and abandon your design upon the rich heiress, prettyMistress Mallet, whom old Rowley recommended to your attention, and whomthe fair Stewart has more than half-won for you?"

  "I would," replied the other, energetically.

  "Nay, then, you are more insane than I thought you," rejoined Lydyard,relinquishing his hold; "and the sooner you take the plague the better.It may cure your present brain fever. I shall go back to Parravicin, andthe others. You will not require my assistance further."

  "I know not," replied Wyvil, distractedly; "I have not yet given up myintention of carrying off the girl."

  "If you carry her oft in this state," rejoined the other, "it must be tothe pest-house. But who told you she was attacked by the plague?"

  "Her father's apprentice," replied Wyvil.

  "And you believed him?" demanded Lydyard, with a derisive laugh.

  "Undoubtedly," replied Wyvil. "Why not?"

  "Because it is evidently a mere trick to frighten you from the house,"rejoined Lydyard. "I am surprised so shallow a device should succeedwith _you_."

  "I wish I could persuade myself it was a trick," returned Wyvil. "Butthe fellow's manner convinced me he was in earnest."

  "Well, I will not dispute the point, though I am sure I am right,"returned Lydyard. "But be not too precipitate. Since the apprentice hasseen you, some alteration may be necessary in your plans. Come with meinto the house. A few minutes can make no difference."

  Wyvil suffered himself to be led up the court, and passing through adoor on the left, they entered a spacious room, across which ran a longtable, furnished at one end with wine and refreshments, and at the otherwith cards and dice.

  Three persons were seated at the table, the most noticeable of whom wasa dissipated-looking young man, dressed in the extremity of theprevailing mode, with ruffles of the finest colbertine, three inches indepth, at his wrists; a richly-laced cravat round his throat; white silkhose, adorned with gold clocks; velvet shoes of the same colour as thehose, fastened with immense roses; a silver-hilted sword, supported by abroad embroidered silk band; and a cloak and doublet ofcarnation-coloured velvet, woven with gold, and decorated withinnumerable glittering points and ribands. He had a flowing wig offlaxen hair, and a broad-leaved hat, looped with a diamond buckle, andplaced negligently on the left side of his head. His figure was slight,but extremely well formed; and his features might have been termedhandsome, but for their reckless and licentious expression. He wasaddressed by his companions as Sir Paul Parravicin.

  The person opposite to him, whose name was Disbrowe, and who waslikewise a very handsome young man, though his features were flushed anddisturbed, partly by the wine he had drunk, and partly by his losses atplay, was equipped in the splendid accoutrements of a captain in theking's body-guard. His left hand convulsively clutched an empty purse,and his eyes were fixed upon a large sum of money, which he had justhanded over to the knight, and which the latter was carelesslytransferring to his pocket.

  The last of the three, whose looks betrayed his character--that of asharper and a bully--called himself Major Pillichody, his pretensions tomilitary rank being grounded upon his service (so ran his own statement,though it was never clearly substantiated) in the king's army during thecivil wars. Major Pillichody was a man of remarkably fierce exterior.Seamed with many scars, and destitute of the left eye, the orifice ofwhich was covered, with a huge black patch; his face was of a deepmulberry colour, clearly attesting his devotion to the bottle; while hisnose, which was none of the smallest, was covered with "bubukles, andwhelks, and knobs, and flames of fire." He was of the middle size,stoutly built, and given to corpulency, though not so much so as toimpair his activity. His attire consisted of a cloak and doublet ofscarlet cloth, very much stained and tarnished, and edged with goldlace, likewise the worse for wear; jack-boots, with huge funnel tops;spurs, with enormous rowels, and a rapier of preposterous length. Hewore his own hair, which was swart and woolly, like that of a negro; andhad beard and moustaches to match. His hat was fiercely cocked; hisgestures swaggering and insolent; and he was perpetually racking hisbrain to invent new and extra-ordinary oaths.

  "So soon returned!" cried Parravicin, as Wyvil appeared. "Accept mycongratulations?"

  "And mine!" cried Pillichody. "We wild fellows have but to be seen toconquer. Sugar and spice, and all that's nice!" he added, smacking hislips, as he filled a glass from a long-necked bottle on the table; "Maythe grocer's daughter prove sweeter than her father's plums, and moremelting than his butter! Is she without? Are we to see her?"

  Wyvil made no answer, but, walking to the other end of the room, threwhimself into a chair, and, covering his face with his hands, appearedwrapped in thought. Lydyard took a seat beside him, and endeavoured toengage him in conversation; but, finding his efforts fruitless, hedesisted.

  "Something is wrong," observed Parravicin, to the major. "He has beenfoiled in his attempt to carry off the girl. Sedley has won his wager,and it is a heavy sum. Shall we resume our play?" he added, to Disbrowe.

  "I have nothing more to lose," observed the young man, filling a largegoblet to the brim, and emptying it at a draught. "You are master ofevery farthing I possess."

  "Hum!" exclaimed Parravicin, taking up a pack of cards, and snappingthem between his finger and thumb. "You are marri
ed, Captain Disbrowe?"

  "What if I am?" cried the young man, becoming suddenly pale; "what if Iam?" he repeated.

  "I am told your wife is beautiful," replied Parravicin.

  "Beautiful!" ejaculated Pillichody; "by the well-filled coffers of thewidow of Watling-street! she is an angel. Beautiful is not the word:Mrs. Disbrowe is divine!"

  "You have never seen her," said the young man, sternly.

  "Ha!--fire and fury! my word doubted," cried the major, fiercely. "Ihave seen her at the play-houses, at the Mulberry-garden, at court, andat church. Not seen her! By the one eye of a Cyclops, but I have! Youshall hear my description of her, and judge of its correctness._Imprimis_, she has a tall and majestic figure, and might be a queen forher dignity."

  "Go on," said Disbrowe, by no means displeased with the commencement.

  "Secondly," pursued Pillichody, "she has a clear olive complexion,bright black eyes, hair and brows to match, a small foot, a prettyturn-up nose, a dimpling cheek, a mole upon her throat, the rosiest lipsimaginable, an alluring look--"

  "No more," interrupted Disbrowe. "It is plain you have never seen her."

  "Unbelieving pagan!" exclaimed the major, clapping his hand furiouslyupon his sword. "I have done more--I have spoken with her."

  "A lie!" replied Disbrowe, hurling a dice-box at his head.

  "Ha!" roared Pillichody, in a voice of thunder, and pushing back hischair till it was stopped by the wall. "Death and fiends! I will makemincemeat of your heart, and send it as a love-offering to your wife."

  And, whipping out his long rapier, he would have assaulted Disbrowe, ifSir Paul had not interposed, and commanded him authoritatively to put uphis blade.

  "You shall have your revenge in a safer way," he whispered.

  "Well, Sir Paul," rejoined the bully, with affected reluctance, "as youdesire it, I will spare the young man's life. I must wash away theinsult in burgundy, since I cannot do so in blood."

  With this, he emptied the flask next him, and called to a drawer, whowas in attendance, in an imperious tone, to bring two more bottles.

  Parravicin, meanwhile, picked up the dice-box, and, seating himself,spread a large heap of gold on the table.

  "I mentioned your wife, Captain Disbrowe," he said, addressing the youngofficer, who anxiously watched his movements, "not with any intention ofgiving you offence, but to show you that, although you have lost yourmoney, you have still a valuable stake left."

  "I do not understand you, Sir Paul," returned Disbrowe, with a look ofindignant surprise.

  "To be plain, then," replied Parravicin, "I have won from you twohundred pounds--all you possess. You are a ruined man, and, as such,will run any hazard to retrieve your losses. I give you a last chance. Iwill stake all my winnings, nay, double the amount, against your wife.You have a key of the house you inhabit, by which you admit yourself atall hours; so at least the major informs me. If I win, that key shall bemine. I will take my chance for the rest. Do you understand me now?"

  "I do," replied the young man, with concentrated fury. "I understandthat you are a villain. You have robbed me of my money, and would rob meof my honour."

  "These are harsh words, sir," replied the knight, calmly; "but let thempass. We will play first, and fight afterwards. But you refuse mychallenge ?"

  "It is false!" replied Disbrowe, fiercely, "I accept it." And producinga key, he threw it on the table. "My life is, in truth, set on the die,"he added, with a desperate look--"for if I lose, I will not survive myshame."

  "You will not forget our terms," observed Parravicin. "I am to be yourrepresentative to-night. You can return home to-morrow."

  "Throw, sir--throw," cried the young man, fiercely.

  "Pardon, me," replied the knight; "the first cast is with you. A singlemain decides it."

  "Be it so," returned Disbrowe, seizing the box. And as he shook the dicewith a frenzied air, the major and Lydyard drew near the table, and evenWyvil roused himself to watch the result.

  "Twelve!" cried Disbrowe, as he removed the box. "My honour is saved! Myfortune retrieved--Huzza!"

  "Not so fast," returned Parravicin, shaking the box in his turn. "Youwere a little too hasty," he added, uncovering the dice. "I am twelve,too. We must throw again."

  "This to decide," cried the young officer, again rattling the dice."Six!"

  Parravicin smiled, took the box, and threw ten.

  "Perdition!" ejaculated Disbrowe, striking his brow with his clenchedhand. "What devil tempted me to my undoing?--My wife trusted to thisprofligate! Horror!--it must not be!"

  "It is too late to retract," replied Parravicin, taking up the key, andturning with a triumphant look to his friends.

  Disbrowe noticed the smile, and stung beyond endurance, drew his sword,and called to the knight to defend himself.

  In an instant, passes were exchanged. But the conflict was brief.Fortune, as before, declared herself in favour of Parravicin. Hedisarmed his assailant, who rushed out of the room, uttering the wildestejaculations of rage and despair.

  "I told you you should have your revenge," observed the knight toPillichody, as soon as Disbrowe was gone. "Is his wife really asbeautiful as you represent her?"

  "Words are too feeble to paint her charms," replied the major. "Shaftsof Cupid! she must be seen to be appreciated."

  "Enough!" returned Parravicin. "I have not made a bad night's work ofit, so far. I'faith, Wyvil, I pity you. To lose a heavy wager isprovoking enough--but to lose a pretty mistress is the devil."

  "I have lost neither yet," replied Wyvil, who had completely recoveredhis spirits, and joined in the general merriment occasioned by theforegoing occurrence. "I have been baffled, not defeated. What say youto an exchange of mistresses? I am so diverted with your adventure, thatI am half inclined to give you the grocer's daughter for Disbrowe'swife. She is a superb creature--languid as a Circassian, and passionateas an Andalusian."

  "I can't agree to the exchange, especially after your rapturousdescription," returned Parravicin, "but I'll stake Mrs. Disbrowe againstAmabel. The winner shall have both. A single cast shall decide, asbefore."

  "No," replied Wyvil, "I could not resign Amabel, if I lost. And the luckis all on your side to-night."

  "As you please," rejoined the knight, sweeping the glittering pile intohis pocket. "Drawer, another bottle of burgundy. A health to ourmistresses!" he added, quaffing a brimmer.

  "A health to the grocer's daughter!" cried Wyvil, with difficultyrepressing a shudder, as he uttered the pledge.

  "A health to the rich widow of Watling-street," cried Pillichody,draining a bumper, "and may I soon call her mine!"

  "I have no mistress to toast," said Lydyard; "and I have drunk wineenough. Do not forget, gentlemen, that the plague is abroad."

  "You are the death's-head at the feast, Lydyard," rejoined Parravicin,setting down his glass. "I hate the idea of the plague. It poisons allour pleasures. We must meet at noon to-morrow, at the Smyrna, to comparenotes as to our successes. Before we separate, can I be of any furtherservice to you, Wyvil? I came here to enjoy _your_ triumph; but, egad, Ihave found so admirable a bubble in that hot-headed Disbrowe, whom I metat the Smyrna, and brought here to while away the time, that I mustdemand your congratulations upon _mine_."

  "You have certainly achieved an easy victory over the husband," returnedWyvil; "and I trust your success with the wife will be commensurate. Irequire no further assistance. What I have to do must be done alone.Lydyard will accompany me to the house, and then I must shift formyself."

  "Nay, we will all see you safe inside," returned Parravicin, "We shallpass by the grocer's shop. I know it well, having passed it a hundredtimes, in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of its lovely inmate."

  "I am glad it _was_ a vain hope," replied Wyvil. "But I must scale awall to surprise the garrison."

  "In that case you will need the rope-ladder," replied Lydyard; "it is inreadiness."

  "I will carry it," said Pillichody, picking up the ladder which wa
slying in a corner of the room, and throwing it over his shoulders."Bombs and batteries! I like to be an escalader when the forts of loveare stormed."

  The party then set out. As they proceeded, Parravicin ascertained fromthe major that Disbrowe's house was situated in a small street leadingout of Piccadilly, but as he could not be quite sure that he understoodhis informant aright, he engaged him to accompany him and point it out.

  By this time they had reached Wood-street, and keeping in the shade,reconnoitred the house. But though Wyvil clapped his hands, blew ashrill whistle, and made other signals, no answer was returned, nor wasa light seen at any of the upper windows. On the contrary, all was stilland silent as death.

  The grocer's was a large, old-fashioned house, built about the middle ofthe preceding century, or perhaps earlier, and had four stories, eachprojecting over the other, till the pile seemed completely to overhangthe street. The entire front, except the upper story, which wasprotected by oaken planks, was covered with panels of the same timber,and the projections were supported by heavy beams, embellished withgrotesque carvings. Three deeply-embayed windows, having stout woodenbars, filled with minute diamond panes, set in leaden frames, wereallotted to each floor; while the like number of gables, ornamented withcuriously-carved coignes, and long-moulded leaden spouts, shooting farinto the street, finished the roof. A huge sign, with the device ofNoah's Ark, and the owner's name upon it, hung before the door.

  After carefully examining the house, peeping through the chinks in thelower shutters, and discovering the grocer seated by the bedside of hisson, though he could not make out the object of his solicitude, Wyvildecided upon attempting an entrance by the backyard. To reach it, acourt and a narrow alley, leading to an open space surrounded by highwalls, had to be traversed. Arrived at this spot, Wyvil threw one end ofthe rope ladder over the wall, which was about twelve feet high, andspeedily succeeding in securing it, mounted, and drawing it up afterhim, waved his hand to his companions, and disappeared on the otherside. After waiting for a moment to listen, and hearing a window open,they concluded he had gained admittance, and turned to depart.

  "And now for Mrs. Disbrowe!" cried Parravicin. "We shall find a coach ora chair in Cheapside. Can I take you westward, Lydyard?"

  But the other declined the offer, saying, "I will not desert Wyvil. Ifeel certain he will get into some scrape, and may need me to help himout of it. Take care of yourself, Parravicin. Beware of the plague, andof what is worse than the plague, an injured husband. Good-night,major."

  "Farewell, sir," returned Pillichody, raising his hat. "A merrywatching, and a good catching, as the sentinels were wont to say, when Iserved King Charles the First. Sir Paul, I attend you."

  IV.

  THE INTERVIEW.

  Maurice Wyvil, as his friends conjectured, had found his way into thehouse. Creeping through the window, and entering a passage, he movednoiselessly along till he reached the head of the kitchen stairs, where,hearing voices below, and listening to what was said, he soonascertained from the discourse of the speakers, who were no other thanold Josyna and Patience, that it was not the grocer's daughter, but oneof his sons, who was attacked by the plague, and that Amabel was inperfect health, though confined in her mother's bedroom.

  Overjoyed at the information he had thus acquired, he retired asnoiselessly as he came, and after searching about for a short time,discovered the main staircase, and ascended it on the points of hisfeet. He had scarcely, however, mounted a dozen steps, when a dooropened, and Blaize crawled along the passage, groaning to himself, andkeeping his eyes bent on the ground. Seeing he was unnoticed, Wyvilgained the landing, and treading softly, placed his ear at every door,until at last the musical accents of Amabel convinced him he had hitupon the right one.

  His heart beat so violently that, for a few seconds, he was unable tomove. Becoming calmer, he tried the door, and finding it locked, rappedwith his knuckles against it. The grocer's wife demanded who was there.But Wyvil, instead of returning an answer, repeated his application. Thesame demand followed, and in a louder key. Still no answer. A thirdsummons, however, so alarmed Mrs. Bloundel, that, forgetful of herhusband's injunctions, she opened the door and looked out; but, as Wyvilhad hastily retired into a recess, she could see no one.

  Greatly frightened and perplexed, Mrs. Bloundel rushed to the head ofthe stairs, to see whether there was any one below; and as she did so,Wyvil slipped into the room, and locked the door. The only object hebeheld--for he had eyes for nothing else--was Amabel, who, seeing him,uttered a faint scream. Clasping her in his arms, Wyvil forgot, in thedelirium of the moment, the jeopardy in which he was placed.

  "Do you know what has happened?" cried Amabel, extricating herself fromhis embrace.

  "I know all," replied her lover; "I would risk a thousand deaths foryour sake. You must fly with me."

  "Fly!" exclaimed Amabel; "at such a time as this?--my brother dying--thewhole house, perhaps, infected! How can you ask me to fly? Why have youcome hither? You will destroy me."

  "Not so, sweet Amabel," replied Wyvil, ardently. "I would bear you fromthe reach of this horrible disease. I am come to save you, and will notstir without you."

  "What shall I do?" cried Amabel, distractedly. "But I am rightlypunished for my disobedience and ingratitude to my dear father. Oh!Wyvil, I did not deserve this from you."

  "Hear me, Amabel," cried her lover; "I implore your forgiveness. What Ihave done has been from irresistible passion, and from no other cause.You promised to meet me to-night. Nay, you half consented to fly withme. I have prepared all for it. I came hither burning with impatiencefor the meeting. I received no signal, but encountering your father'sapprentice, was informed that you were attacked by the plague. Imaginemy horror and distress at the intelligence. I thought it would havekilled me. I determined, however, at all risks, to see you once more--toclasp you in my arms before you died--to die with you, if need be. Iaccomplished my purpose. I entered the house unobserved. I overheard theservants say it was your brother who was ill, not you. I also learntthat you were in your mother's room. I found the door, and by afortunate device, obtained admittance. Now you know all, and will younot fly with me?"

  "How _can_ I fly?" cried Amabel, gazing wildly round the room, as if insearch of some place of refuge or escape, and, noticing her littlesister, Christiana, who was lying asleep in the bed--"Oh! how I envythat innocent!" she murmured.

  "Think of nothing but yourself," rejoined Wyvil, seizing her hand. "Ifyou stay here, it will be to perish of the plague. Trust to me, and Iwill secure your flight."

  "I cannot--I dare not," cried Amabel, resisting him with all her force.

  "You _must_ come," cried Wyvil, dragging her along.

  As he spoke, Mrs. Bloundel, who had been down to Blaize's room toascertain what was the matter, returned. Trying the door, and finding itfastened, she became greatly alarmed, and called to Amabel to open itdirectly.

  "It is my mother," cried Amabel. "Pity me, Heaven! I shall die withshame."

  "Heed her not," replied Wyvil, in a deep whisper; "in her surprise andconfusion at seeing me, she will not be able to stop us. Do nothesitate. There is not a moment to lose."

  "What is the matter, child?" cried Mrs. Bloundel. "Why have you fastenedthe door? Is there any one in the room with you?"

  "She hears us," whispered Amabel. "What shall I do? You must not beseen?"

  "There is no use in further concealment," cried Wyvil. "You are mine,and twenty mothers should not bar the way."

  "Hold!" cried Amabel, disengaging herself by a sudden effort. "I havegone too far--but not so far as you imagine. I am not utterly lost."

  And before she could be prevented, she rushed to the door, threw itopen, and flung herself into her mother's arms, who uttered anexclamation of terror at beholding Wyvil. The latter, though filled withrage and confusion, preserved an unmoved exterior, and folded his armsupon his breast.

  "And so it was you who knocked at the door!" cried Mrs. Bloundel,regarding the ga
llant with a look of fury--"it was you who contrived todelude me into opening it! I do not ask why you have come hither like athief in the night, because I require no information on the subject. Youare come to dishonour my child--to carry her away from those who loveher and cherish her, and would preserve her from such mischievousserpents as you. But, Heaven be praised! I have caught you before yourwicked design could Be effected. Oh! Amabel, my child, my child!" sheadded, straining her to her bosom, "I had rather--far rather--see youstricken with the plague, like your poor brother, though I felt therewas not a hope of your recovery, than you should fall into the hands ofthis Satan!"

  "I have been greatly to blame, dear mother," returned Amabel, burstinginto tears; "and I shall neither seek to exculpate myself, nor concealwhat I have done. I have deceived you and my father. I have secretlyencouraged the addresses of this gentleman. Nay, if the plague had notbroken out in our house to-night, I should have flown from it with him."

  "You shock me, greatly, child," returned Mrs. Bloundel; "but you relieveme at the same time. Make a clean breast, and hide nothing from me."

  "I have nothing more to tell, dear mother," replied Amabel, "except thatMaurice Wyvil has been in the room ever since you left it, and might,perhaps, have carried me off in spite of my resistance, if you had notreturned when you did."

  "It was, indeed, a providential interference," rejoined Mrs. Bloundel."From what a snare of the evil one--from what a pitfall have you beenpreserved!"

  "I feel I have had a narrow escape, dear mother," replied Amabel."Pardon me. I do not deserve your forgiveness. But I will never offendyou more."

  "I forgive you from my heart, child, and will trust you," returned Mrs.Bloundel, in a voice broken by emotion.

  "That is more than I would," thought Maurice Wyvil. "A woman who hasonce deceived those she holds dear, will not fail to do so a secondtime. The fairest promises are forgotten when the danger is past."

  "Mr. Wyvil, if you have a particle of regard for me, you will instantlyleave the house," said Amabel, turning to him.

  "If had my own way, he should leave it through the window," said Mrs.Bloundel; "and if he tarries a minute longer, I will give the alarm."

  "You hear this, sir," cried Amabel:--"go, I entreat you."

  "I yield to circumstance, Amabel," replied Wyvil; "but think not Iresign you. Come what will, and however I may be foiled, I will notdesist till I make you mine."

  "I tremble to hear him," cried Mrs. Bloundel, "and could not havebelieved such depravity existed. Quit the house, sir, directly, or Iwill have you turned out of it."

  "Do not remain another moment," implored Amabel. "Do not, do not!"

  "Since I have no other way of proving my love, I must perforce obey,"returned Wyvil, trying to snatch her hand and press it to his lips; butshe withdrew it, and clung more closely to her mother. "We part," headded, significantly, "only for a time."

  Quitting the room, he was about to descend the stairs, when Mrs.Bloundel, who had followed to see him safely off the premises, hearing anoise below, occasioned by the return of Leonard with the doctor,cautioned him to wait. A further delay was caused by Blaize, who,stationing himself at the foot of the stairs, with a light in his hand,appeared unwilling to move. Apprehensive of a discovery, Mrs. Bloundelthen directed the gallant to the back staircase, and he had got abouthalfway down, when he was surprised by Leonard Holt, as before related.

  At the very moment that Wyvil was overtaken on the landing by theapprentice, Amabel appeared at the door of her chamber with a light. Thedifferent emotions of each party at this unexpected rencontre may beimagined. Leonard Holt, with a breast boiling with jealous rage,prepared to attack his rival. He had no weapon about him, having lefthis cudgel in the shop, but he doubled his fists, and, nerved bypassion, felt he had the force of a Hercules in his arm. Wyvil, in histurn, kept his hand upon his sword, and glanced at his mistress, as ifseeking instructions how to act. At length, Mrs. Bloundel, who formedone of the group, spoke.

  "Leonard Holt," she said, "show this person out at the door. Do not losesight of him for an instant; and, as soon as he is gone, try to find outhow he entered the house."

  "He entered it like a robber," returned Leonard, looking fiercely at thegallant, "and if I did my strict duty, I should seize him and give himin charge to the watch. He has come here for the purpose of stealing mymaster's chief valuable--his daughter."

  "I am aware of it," replied Mrs. Bloundel, "and nothing butconsideration for my husband prevents my delivering him up to justice.As it is, he may go free. But should he return--"

  "If I catch him here again," interrupted Leonard, "I will shoot him as Iwould a dog, though I should be hanged for the deed. Have you consideredwell what you are doing, madam? I would not presume beyond my station,but there are seasons when an inferior may give wholesome advice. Areyou certain you are acting as your worthy husband would, in allowingthis person to depart? If you have any doubt, speak. Fear nothing.Unarmed as I am, I am a match for him, and will detain him."

  "Do not heed what Leonard says, dear mother," interposed Amabel. "For mysake, let Mr. Wyvil go."

  "I _have_ considered the matter, Leonard," returned Mrs. Bloundel, "andtrust I am acting rightly. At all events, I am sure I am sparing myhusband pain."

  "It is mistaken tenderness," rejoined Leonard, "and Heaven grant you maynot have cause to repent it. If I had your permission, I would so dealwith this audacious intruder, that he should never venture to repeat hisvisit."

  "You know that you speak safely, fellow," rejoined Wyvil, "and you,therefore, give full license to your scurrile tongue. But a time willcome when I will chastise your insolence."

  "No more of this," cried Mrs. Bloundel. "Do as I bid you, Leonard; and,as you value my regard, say nothing of what has occurred to yourmaster."

  Sullenly acquiescing, the apprentice preceded Wyvil to the shop, andopened the door.

  As the other passed through it, he said, "You spoke of chastising mejust now. If you have courage enough--which I doubt--to make good yourwords, and will wait for me for five minutes, near Saint Alban's Churchin this street, you shall have the opportunity."

  Wyvil did not deign a reply, but wrapping his cloak around him, strodeaway. He had not proceeded far, when it occurred to him that, possibly,notwithstanding his interdiction, some of his companions might bewaiting for him, and hurrying down the passage leading to the yard, hefound Lydyard, to whom he recounted his ill-success.

  "I shall not, however, abandon my design," he said. "These failures areonly incentives to further exertion."

  "In the meantime, you must pay your wager to Sedley," laughed Lydyard,"and as the house is really infected with the plague, it behoves you tocall at the first apothecary's shop we find open, and get your apparelfumigated. You must not neglect due precautions."

  "True," replied Wyvil, "and as I feel too restless to go home atpresent, suppose we amuse ourselves by calling on some astrologer, tosee whether the stars are favourable to my pursuit of this girl."

  "A good idea," replied Lydyard. "There are plenty of the 'Sons ofUrania,' as they term themselves, hereabouts.

  "A mere juggler will not serve my turn," returned Wyvil.

  "William Lilly, the almanack-maker, who predicted the plague, and, ifold Rowley is to be believed, has great skill in the occult sciences,lives somewhere in Friday-street, not a stone's throw from this place.Let us go and find him out."

  "Agreed," replied Lydyard.

  V.

  THE POMANDER-BOX.

  Any doubts entertained by Leonard Holt as to the manner in which hisrival entered the house, were removed by discovering the open window inthe passage and the rope-ladder hanging to the yard-wall. Taking theladder away, and making all as secure as he could, he next seized hiscudgel, and proceeded to Blaize's room, with the intention of inflictingupon him the punishment he had threatened: for he naturally enoughattributed to the porter's carelessness all the mischief that had justoccurred. Not meeting with him, however, and concl
uding he was in thekitchen, he descended thither, and found him in such a pitiable plight,that his wrath was instantly changed to compassion.

  Stretched upon the hearth before a blazing sea-coal fire, which seemedlarge enough to roast him, with his head resting upon the lap ofPatience, the pretty kitchen-maid, and his left hand upon his heart, theporter loudly complained of a fixed and burning pain in that region;while his mother, who was kneeling beside him, having just poured abasin of scalding posset-drink down his throat, entreated him to let herexamine his side to see whether he had any pestilential mark upon it,but he vehemently resisted her efforts.

  "Do you feel any swelling, myn lief zoon?" asked old Josyna, trying toremove his hand.

  "Swelling!" ejaculated Blaize,--"there's a tumour as big as an egg."

  "Is id possible?" exclaimed Josyna, in great alarm. "Do let me look adid."

  "No, no, leave me alone," rejoined Blaize. "Don't disturb me further.You will catch the distemper if you touch the sore."

  "Dat wond hinder me from drying to zaave you," replied his mother,affectionately. "I must see vad is de madder vid you, or I cannod cureyou."

  "I am past your doctoring, mother," groaned Blaize. "Leave me alone, Isay. You hurt me shockingly!"

  "Poor child!" cried Josyna, soothingly, "I'll be as dender as possible.I'll nod give you de leasd pain--nod de leasd bid."

  "But I tell you, you _do_ give me a great deal," rejoined Blaize. "Ican't bear it. Your fingers are like iron nails. Keep them away."

  "Bless us! did I ever hear de like of dad!" exclaimed Josyna. "Ironnails! if you think so, myn arm zoon, you musd be very ill indeed."

  "I _am_ very ill," groaned her son. "I am not long for this world."

  "Oh! don't say so, dear Blaize," sobbed Patience, letting fall aplentiful shower of tears on his face. "Don't say so. I can't bear topart with you."

  "Then don't survive me," returned Blaize. "But there's little chance ofyour doing so. You are certain to take the plague."

  "I care not what becomes of myself, if I lose you, Blaize," respondedPatience, bedewing his countenance with another shower; "but I hope youwon't die yet."

  "Ah! it's all over with me--all over," rejoined Blaize. "I told LeonardHolt how it would be. I said I should be the next victim. And my wordsare come true."

  "You are as clever as a conjurer," sobbed Patience; "but I wish youhadn't been right in this instance. However, comfort yourself. I'll diewith you. We'll be carried to the grave in the same plague-cart."

  "That's cold comfort," returned Blaize, angrily. "I beg you'll nevermention the plague-cart again. The thought of it makes me shiver allover--oh!" And he uttered a dismal and prolonged groan.

  At this juncture, Leonard thought it time to interfere.

  "If you are really attacked by the plague, Blaize," he said, advancing,"you must have instant advice. Doctor Hodges is still upstairs with ourmaster. He must see you."

  "On no account," returned the porter, in the greatest alarm, andspringing to his feet. "I am better--much better. I don't think I am illat all."

  "For the first time, I suspect the contrary," replied the apprentice,"since you are afraid of owning it. But this is not a matter to betrifled with. Doctor Hodges will soon settle the point." And he hurriedout of the room to summon the physician.

  "Oh! mother!--dear Patience!" roared Blaize, capering about in anecstasy of terror; "don't let the doctor come near me. Keep me out ofhis sight. You don't know what horrid things are done to those afflictedwith my complaint. But I do,--for I have informed myself on the subject.Their skins are scarified, and their sores blistered, lanced,cauterized, and sometimes burned away with a knob of red-hot iron,called 'the button.'"

  "But iv id is necessary, myn goed Blaize, you musd submid," replied hismother. "Never mind de hod iron or de lance, or de blisder, iv dey makeyou well. Never mind de pain. It will soon be over."

  "Soon over!" bellowed Blaize, sinking into a chair. "Yes, I feel itwill. But not in the way you imagine. This Doctor Hodges will kill me.He is fond of trying experiments, and will make me his subject. Don'tlet him--for pity's sake, don't."

  "But I musd, myn lief jonger," replied his mother, "I musd."

  "Oh, Patience!" supplicated Blaize, "you were always fond of me. Mymother has lost her natural affection. She wishes to get rid of me.Don't take part with her. My sole dependence is upon you."

  "I will do all I can for you, dear Blaize," blubbered the kitchen-maid."But it is absolutely necessary you should see the doctor."

  "Then I won't stay here another minute," vociferated Blaize. "I'll diein the street rather than under his hands."

  And bursting from them, he would have made good his retreat, but for theentrance of Leonard and Hodges.

  At the sight of the latter, Blaize ran back and endeavoured to screenhimself behind Patience.

  "Is this the sick man?" remarked Hodges, scarcely able to refrain fromlaughing. "I don't think he can be in such imminent danger as you led meto suppose."

  "No, I am better--much better, thank you," returned Blaize, stillkeeping Patience between him and the doctor. "The very sight of you hasfrightened away the plague."

  "Indeed!" exclaimed Hodges, smiling, "then it is the most marvellouscure I ever yet effected. But, come forward, young man, and let us seewhat is the matter with you."

  "You neither lance nor cauterize an incipient tumour, do you, doctor?"demanded Blaize, without abandoning his position.

  "Eh, day!" exclaimed Hodges, "have we one of the faculty here? I see howit is, friend. You have been reading some silly book about the disease,and have frightened yourself into the belief that you have some of itssymptoms. I hope you haven't been doctoring yourself, likewise. Whathave you taken?"

  "It would be difficult to say what he has _not_ taken," remarkedLeonard. "His stomach must be like an apothecary's shop."

  "I have only used proper precautions," rejoined Blaize, testily.

  "And what may those be--eh?" inquired the doctor. "I am curious tolearn."

  "Come from behind Patience," cried Leonard, "and don't act the foollonger, or I will see whether your disorder will not yield to a soundapplication of the cudgel."

  "Don't rate him thus, good Master Leonard," interposed Patience. "He isvery ill--he is, indeed."

  "Then let him have a chance of getting better," returned the apprentice."If he _is_ ill, he has no business near you. Come from behind her,Blaize, I say. Now speak," he added, as the porter crept tremblinglyforth, "and let us hear what nostrums you have swallowed. I know youhave dosed yourself with pills, electuaries, balsams, tinctures,conserves, spirits, elixirs, decoctions, and every other remedy, real orimaginary. What else have you done?"

  "What Dr. Hodges, I am sure, will approve," replied Blaize, confidently."I have rubbed myself with vinegar, oil of sulphur, extract of tar, andspirit of turpentine."

  "What next?" demanded Hodges.

  "I placed saltpetre, brimstone, amber, and juniper upon a chafing-dishto fumigate my room," replied Blaize; "but the vapour was sooverpowering, I could not bear it."

  "I should be surprised if you could," replied the doctor. "Indeed, it isastonishing to me, if you have taken half the remedies Leonard says youhave, and which, taken in this way, are no remedies at all, since theycounteract each other--that you are still alive. But let us see what isthe matter with you. What ails you particularly?"

  "Nothing," replied Blaize, trembling; "I am quite well."

  "He complains of a fixed pain near de haard, docdor," interposed hismother, "and says he has a large dumour on his side. But he wond let meexamine id."

  "That's a bad sign," observed Hodges, shaking his head. "I am afraidit's not all fancy, as I at first supposed. Have you felt sick of late,young man?"

  "Not of late," replied Blaize, becoming as white as ashes; "but I donow."

  "Another bad symptom," rejoined the doctor. "Take off your doublet andopen your shirt."

  "Do as the doctor bids you," said Leonard, seeing that Blaize
hesitated,"or I apply the cudgel."

  "Ah! bless my life! what's this?" cried Hodges, running his hand downthe left side of the porter, and meeting with a large lump. "Can it be acarbuncle?"

  "Yes, it's a terrible carbuncle," replied Blaize; "but don't cauterizeit, doctor."

  "Let me look at it," cried Hodges, "and I shall then know how toproceed."

  And as he spoke, he tore open the porter's shirt, and a silver ball,about as large as a pigeon's egg, fell to the ground. Leonard picked itup, and found it so hot that he could scarcely hold it.

  "Here is the terrible carbuncle," he cried, with a laugh, in which allthe party, except Blaize, joined.

  "It's my pomander-box," said the latter. "I filled it with a mixture ofcitron-peel, angelica seed, zedoary, yellow saunders, aloes, benzoin,camphor, and gum-tragacanth, moistened with spirit of roses; and afterplacing it on the chafing-dish to heat it, hung it by a string round myneck, next my dried toad. I suppose, by some means or other, it droppedthrough my doublet, and found its way to my side. I felt a dreadfulburning there, and that made me fancy I was attacked by the plague."

  "A very satisfactory solution of the mystery," replied the doctor,laughing; "and you may think yourself well off with the blister whichyour box has raised. It will be easier to bear than the cataplasm Ishould have given you, had your apprehensions been well founded. As yet,you are free from infection, young man; but if you persist in this sillyand pernicious practice of quacking yourself, you will infallibly bringon some fatal disorder--perhaps the plague itself. If your mother hasany regard for you she will put all your medicines out of your reach.There are few known remedies against this frightful disease; and whatfew there are, must be adopted cautiously. My own specific is sack."

  "Sack!" exclaimed Blaize, in astonishment. "Henceforth, I will drinknothing else. I like the remedy amazingly."

  "It must be taken in moderation," said the doctor: "otherwise it is asdangerous as too much physic."

  "I have a boddle or doo of de liquor you commend, docdor, in my privatecupboard," observed Josyna. "Will you dasde id?"

  "With great pleasure," replied Hodges, "and a drop of it will do yourson no harm."

  The wine was accordingly produced, and the doctor pronounced itexcellent, desiring that a glass might always be brought him when hevisited the grocer's house.

  "You may rely upon id, mynheer, as long as my small sdore lasds,"replied Josyna.

  Blaize, who, in obedience to the doctor's commands, had drained a largeglass of sack, felt so much inspirited by it, that he ventured, when hismother's back was turned, to steal a kiss from Patience, and to whisperin her ear, that if he escaped the plague, he would certainly marryher--an assurance that seemed to give her no slight satisfaction. Hisnew-born courage, however, was in some degree damped by Leonard, whoobserved to him in an undertone:

  "You have neglected my injunctions, sirrah, and allowed the person Iwarned you of to enter the house. When a fitting season arrives, I willnot fail to pay off old scores."

  Blaize would have remonstrated, and asked for some explanation, but theapprentice instantly left him, and set out upon his errand to theExaminer of Health. Accompanied by his mother, who would not even allowhim to say good-night to Patience, the porter then proceeded to his ownroom, where the old woman, to his infinite regret, carried off hisstores of medicine in a basket, which she brought with her for thatpurpose, and locked the door upon him.

  "This has escaped her," said Blaize, as soon as she was gone, opening asecret drawer in the cupboard. "How fortunate that I kept this reserve.I have still a tolerable supply in case of need. Let me examine mystock. First of all, there are plague-lozenges, composed of angelica,liquorice, flower of sulphur, myrrh, and oil of cinnamon. Secondly, anelectuary of bole-armoniac, hartshorn-shavings, saffron, and syrup ofwood-sorrel. I long to taste it. But then it would be running in thedoctor's teeth. Thirdly, there is a phial labelled _Aqua TheriacalisStillatitia_--in plain English, distilled treacle-water. A spoonful ofthis couldn't hurt me. Fourthly, a packet of powders, entitled _ManusChristi_--an excellent mixture. Fifthly, a small pot of diatesseron,composed of gentian, myrrh, bayberries, and round aristolochia. I mustjust taste it. Never mind the doctor! He does not know what agrees withmy constitution as well as I do myself. Physic comes as naturally to meas mother's milk. Sixthly, there is _Aqua Epidemica_, commonly calledthe Plague-Water of Matthias--delicious stuff! I will only just sip it.What a fine bitter it has! I'm sure it must be very wholesome. Next, forI've lost my count, comes salt of vipers--next, powder of unicorn'shorn--next, oil of scorpions from Naples--next, dragon-water--alladmirable. Then there are cloves of garlics--sovereign fortifiers of thestomach--and, lastly, there is a large box of my favourite rufuses. Howmany pills have I taken? Only half a dozen! Three more may as well go tokeep the others company."

  And hastily swallowing them, as if afraid of detection, he carefullyshut the drawer, and then crept into bed, and, covering himself withblankets, endeavoured to compose himself to slumber.

  Doctor Hodges, meantime, returned to the grocer, and acquainted him thatit was a false alarm, and that the porter was entirely free frominfection.

  "I am glad to hear it," replied Bloundel; "but I expected as much.Blaize is like the shepherd's boy in the fable: he has cried 'wolf' sooften, that when the danger really arrives, no one will heed him."

  "I must now take my leave, Mr. Bloundel," said Hodges. "I will be withyou the first thing to-morrow, and have little doubt I shall find yourson going on well. But you must not merely take care of him, but ofyourself, and your household. It will be well to set a chafing-dish inthe middle of the room, and scatter some of these perfumes occasionallyupon it!" and producing several small packets, he gave them to thegrocer. "If you ever smoke a pipe, I would advise you to do so now."

  "I never smoke," replied Bloundel, "and hold it as a filthy andmischievous habit, which nothing but necessity should induce me topractise."

  "It is advisable now," returned Hodges, "and you should neglect noprecaution. Take my word for it, Mr. Bloundel, the plague is onlybeginning. When the heats of summer arrive, its ravages will befrightful. Heaven only knows what will become of us all!"

  "If my poor son is spared, and we escape contagion," returned Bloundel,"I will put into execution a scheme which has occurred to me, and which(under Providence!) will, I trust, secure my family from furtherhazard."

  "Ah, indeed! what is that?" inquired Hodges.

  "We must talk of it some other time," returned Bloundel "Good-night,doctor, and accept my thanks for your attention. To-morrow, at as earlyan hour as you can make convenient, I shall hope to see you." And with afriendly shake of the hand, and a reiteration of advice and good wishes,Hodges departed.

  Soon after this the apprentice returned, and by his master's directions,placed a chafing-dish in the middle of the room, supplying it with thedrugs and herbs left by the doctor. About four o'clock, a loud knockingwas heard. Instantly answering the summons, Leonard found four men atthe shop-door, two of whom he knew, by red wands they carried, weresearchers; while their companions appeared to be undertakers, from theirsable habits and long black cloaks.

  Marching unceremoniously into the shop, the searchers desired to see thesick man; and the apprentice then perceived that one of the men in blackcloaks was the coffin-maker, Chowles. He could not, however, refuse himadmittance, and led the way to the grocer's chamber. As they entered it,Bloundel arose, and placing his finger to his lips in token of silence,raised the blankets, and exhibited the blotch, which had greatlyincreased in size, under the arm of his slumbering son. The foremost ofthe searchers, who kept a phial of vinegar to his nose all the time heremained in the room, then demanded in a low tone whether there were anyother of the household infected? The grocer replied in the negative.Upon this, Chowles, whose manner showed he was more than halfintoxicated, took off his hat, and bowing obsequiously to the grocer,said, "Shall I prepare you a coffin, Mr. Bloundel?--you are sure to wantone, and had better gi
ve the order in time, for there is a great demandfor such articles just now. If you like, I will call with it tomorrownight. I have a plague-cart of my own, and bury all my customers."

  "God grant I may not require your services, sir!" replied the grocer,shuddering. "But I will give you timely notice."

  "If you are in want of a nurse, I can recommend an experienced one,"added Chowles. "Her last employer is just dead."

  "I may need assistance," replied the grocer, after a moment'sreflection. "Let her call to-morrow."

  "She understands her business perfectly, and will save you a world oftrouble," replied Chowles; "besides securing me the sale of anothercoffin," he added to himself.

  He then quitted the room with the searchers, and Leonard feltinexpressibly relieved by their departure.

  As soon as the party gained the street, the fourth person, who wasprovided with materials for the task, painted a red cross of theprescribed size--namely, a foot in length--in the middle of the door;tracing above it, in large characters, the melancholy formula--"LORD,HAVE MERCY UPON US!"

  VI.

  THE LIBERTINE PUNISHED.

  Sir Paul Parravicin and Major Pillichody arrived without any particularadventure at the top of the Haymarket, where the former dismissed thecoach he had hired in Cheapside, and they proceeded towards Piccadillyon foot. Up to this time the major had been in very high spirits,boasting what he would do, in case they encountered Disbrowe, andoffering to keep guard outside the door while the knight remained in thehouse. But he now began to alter his tone, and to frame excuses to getaway. He had noticed with some uneasiness, that another coach stoppedlower down the Haymarket, at precisely the same time as their own; andthough he could not be quite certain of the fact, he fancied heperceived a person greatly resembling Captain Disbrowe alight from it.Mentioning the circumstance to his companion, he pointed out a tallfigure following them at some distance; but the other only laughed athim, and said, "It may possibly be Disbrowe--but what if it is? Hecannot get into the house without the key; and if he is inclined tomeasure swords with me a second time, he shall not escape so lightly ashe did the first."

  "Right, Sir Paul, right," returned Pillichody, "exterminate him--sparehim not. By Bellerophon! that's my way. My only apprehension is lest heshould set upon us unawares. The bravest are not proof against thedagger of an assassin."

  "There you wrong Disbrowe, major, I am persuaded," returned Parravicin."He is too much a man of honour to stab a foe behind his back."

  "It may be," replied Pillichody, "but jealousy will sometimes turn aman's brain. By the snakes of Tisiphone! I have known an instance of itmyself. I once made love to a tailor's wife, and the rascal coming inunawares, struck me to the ground with his goose, and well nigh murderedme."

  "After such a mischance, I am surprised you should venture to carry onso many hazardous intrigues," laughed the knight. "But you proposed justnow to keep watch outside the house. If it is Disbrowe who is followingus, you had better do so."

  "Why, Sir Paul--you see,"--stammered the major, "I have just bethoughtme of an engagement."

  "An engagement at this hour--impossible!" cried Parravicin.

  "An assignation, I ought to say," returned Pillichody.

  "Couches of Cytheraea!--an affair like your own. You would not have mekeep a lady waiting."

  "It is strange you should not recollect it till this moment," repliedParravicin. "But be your inamorata whom she may--even the rich widow ofWatling-street, of whom you prate so much--you must put her offto-night."

  "But, Sir Paul----"

  "I will have no denial," replied the knight, peremptorily. If yourefuse, you will find me worse to deal with than Disbrowe. You mustremain at the door till I come out. And now let us lose no more time. Iam impatient to behold the lady."

  "Into what a cursed scrape have I got myself!" thought the major, as hewalked by the side of his companion, ever and anon casting wistfulglances over his shoulder. "I am fairly caught on the horns of adilemma. I instinctively feel that Disbrowe _is_ dogging us. What willbecome of me? The moment this harebrained coxcomb enters the house, Iwill see whether a light pair of heels cannot bear me out of harm'sway."

  By this time, they had reached a passage known as Bear-alley (all tracesof which have been swept away by modern improvements), and threading it,they entered a narrow thoroughfare, called Castle-street. Just as theyturned the corner, Pillichody again noticed the figure at the furtherend of the alley, and, but for his fears of the knight, would haveinstantly scampered off.

  "Are we far from the house?" inquired Parravicin.

  "No," replied the major, scarcely able to conceal his trepidation. "Itis close at hand--and so is the lady's husband."

  "So much the better," replied the knight; "it will afford you someamusement to beat him off. You may affect not to know him, and may tellhim the lady's husband is just come home--her _husband_!--do you take,Pillichody?"

  "I do--ha! ha! I do," replied the major, in a quavering tone.

  "But you don't appear to relish the jest," rejoined Parravicin,sneeringly.

  "Oh, yes, I relish it exceedingly," replied Pillichody; "herhusband--ha!--ha!--and Disbrowe is the disappointed lover--capital! Buthere we are--and I wish we were anywhere else," he added to himself.

  "Are you sure you are right?" asked Parravicin, searching for the key.

  "Quite sure," returned Pillichody. "Don't you see some one behind thatwall?"

  "I see nothing," rejoined the knight. "You are afraid of shadows,major."

  "Afraid!" ejaculated Pillichody. "Thousand thunders! I am afraid ofnothing."

  "In that case, I shall expect to find you have slain Disbrowe, on myreturn," rejoined Parravicin, unlocking the door.

  "The night is chilly," observed the major, "and ever since my campaignsin the Low Countries, I have been troubled with rheumatism. I shouldprefer keeping guard inside."

  "No, no, you must remain where you are," replied the knight, shuttingthe door.

  Pillichody was about to take to his heels, when he felt himself arrestedby a powerful arm. He would have roared for aid, but a voice, which heinstantly recognised, commanded him to keep silence, if he valued hislife.

  "Is your companion in the house?" demanded Disbrowe, in a hollow tone.

  "I am sorry to say he is, Captain Disbrowe," replied the bully. "I didmy best to prevent him, but remonstrance was in vain."

  "Liar," cried Disbrowe, striking him with his clenched hand. "Do youthink to impose upon me by such a pitiful fabrication? It was you whointroduced me to this heartless libertine--you who encouraged me to playwith him, telling me I should easily strip him of all he possessed--youwho excited his passion for my wife, by praising her beauty--and it wasyou who put it into his head to propose that fatal stake to me."

  "There you are wrong, Captain Disbrowe," returned Pillichody, in asupplicatory tone. "On my soul, you are! I certainly praised your wife(as who would not?), but I never advised Parravicin to play for her.That was his own idea entirely."

  "The excuse shall not avail you," cried Disbrowe, fiercely. "To you Iowe all my misery. Draw and defend yourself."

  "Be not so hasty, captain," cried Pillichody, abjectedly. "I haveinjured you sufficiently already. I would not have your blood on myhead. On the honour of a soldier, I am sorry for the wrong I have doneyou, and will strive to repair it."

  "Repair it!" shrieked Disbrowe. "It is too late." And seizing themajor's arm, he dragged him by main force into the alley.

  "Help! help!" roared Pillichody. "Would you murder me?"

  "I will assuredly cut your throat, if you keep up this clamour,"rejoined Disbrowe, snatching the other's long rapier from his side."Coward!" he added, striking him with the flat side of the weapon, "thiswill teach you to mix yourself up in such infamous affairs for thefuture."

  And heedless of the major's entreaties and vociferations, he continuedto belabour him, until compelled by fatigue to desist; when the other,contriving to extricate himself, ran off as fast as h
is legs could carryhim. Disbrowe looked after him for a moment, as if uncertain whether tofollow, and then hurrying to the house, stationed himself beneath theporch.

  "I will stab him as he comes forth," he muttered, drawing his sword, andhiding it beneath his mantle.

  Parravicin, meanwhile, having let himself into the house, marched boldlyforward, though the passage was buried in darkness, and he was utterlyunacquainted with it. Feeling against the wall, he presently discovereda door, and opening it, entered a room lighted by a small silver lampplaced on a marble slab. The room was empty, but its furniture andarrangements proclaimed it the favourite retreat of the fair mistress ofthe abode. Parravicin gazed curiously round, as if anxious to gatherfrom what he saw some idea of the person he so soon expected toencounter. Everything betokened a refined and luxurious taste. A fewFrench romances, the last plays of Etherege, Dryden, and Shadwell, avolume of Cowley, and some amorous songs, lay on the table; and not farfrom them were a loomask, pulvil purse, a pair of scented gloves, arichly-laced mouchoir, a manteau girdle, palatine tags, and a goldenbodkin for the hair.

  Examining all these things, and drawing his own conclusions as to thecharacter of their owner, Parravicin turned to a couch on which acittern was thrown, while beside it, on a cushion, were a pair of tinyembroidered velvet slippers. A pocket-mirror, or sprunking-glass, as itwas then termed, lay on a side-table, and near it stood an embossedsilver chocolate-pot, and a small porcelain cup with a golden spooninside it, showing what the lady's last repast had been. On anothersmall table, covered with an exquisitely white napkin, stood a flask ofwine, a tall-stemmed glass, and a few cakes on a China dish, evidentlyplaced there for Disbrowe's return.

  As Parravicin drew near this table, a slip of paper, on which a fewlines were traced, attracted his attention, and taking it up, he read asfollows:

  "It is now midnight, and you promised to return early. I have felt yourabsence severely, and have been suffering from a violent headache, whichhas almost distracted me. I have also been troubled with strange andunaccountable misgivings respecting you. I am a little easier now, butstill far from well, and about to retire to rest. At what hour will thismeet your eye?"

  "MARGARET."

  "Charming creature!" exclaimed Parravicin, as the paper dropped from hishand; "she little dreamed, when she wrote it, who would read her billet.Disbrowe does not deserve such a treasure. I am sorry she is unwell. Ihope she has not taken the plague. Pshaw, what could put such an ideainto my head? Lydyard's warning, I suppose. That fellow, who is theveriest rake among us, is always preaching. Confound him! I wish he hadnot mentioned it. A glass of wine may exhilarate me." And pouring out abumper, he swallowed it at a draught. "And so the fond fool is piningfor her husband, and has some misgivings about him. Egad! it is well forher she does not know what has really taken place. She'll learn thatsoon enough. What's this?" he added, glancing at a picture on the wall."Her miniature! It must be; for it answers exactly to Pillichody'sdescription. A sparkling brunette, with raven hair, and eyes of night. Iam on fire to behold her: but I must proceed with prudence, or I mayruin all. Is there nothing of Disbrowe's that I could put on for thenonce? 'Fore Heaven! the very thing I want!"

  The exclamation was occasioned by his observing a loose silken robelying across a chair. Wrapping it round him, and throwing down his hat,he took the lamp and went up stairs.

  Daring as he was, Parravicin felt his courage desert him, as havingfound the door of Mrs. Disbrowe's chamber, he cautiously opened it. Asingle glance showed him that the room was more exquisitely, moreluxuriously furnished than that he had just quitted. Articles offeminine attire, of the richest kind, were hung against the walls, ordisposed on the chairs. On one side stood the toilette-table, with itssmall mirror then in vogue, and all its equipage of silver flasks,filligree cassets, japan patch-boxes, scent-bottles, and pomatum-pots.

  As he entered the room, a faint voice issuing from behind the richdamask curtains of the bed, demanded, "Is it you, Disbrowe?"

  "It is, Margaret," replied Parravicin, setting down the lamp, andspeaking with a handkerchief at his mouth, to disguise his voice andconceal his features.

  "You are late--very late," she rejoined, "and I have been ill. I fanciedmyself dying."

  "What has been the matter with you sweet, Meg?" asked Parravicin,approaching the bed, and seating himself behind the curtains.

  "I know not," she replied. "I was seized with a dreadful headache aboutan hour ago. It has left me; but I have a strange oppression at mychest, and breathe with difficulty."

  "You alarm me, my love," rejoined Parravicin. "Were you ever attackedthus before?"

  "Never," she replied. "Oh! Disbrowe! if you knew how I have longed foryour return, you would blame yourself for your absence. You have grownsadly neglectful of late. I suspect you love some one else. If I thoughtso------"

  "What if you thought so, Margaret?" demanded Parravicin.

  "What!" cried Mrs. Disbrowe, raising herself in the bed. "I wouldrequite your perfidy--terribly requite it!"

  "Then learn that Captain Disbrowe _is_ faithless," cried Parravicin,throwing back the curtains, and disclosing himself. "Learn that he lovesanother, and is with her now. Learn that he cares so little for you,that he has surrendered you to me."

  "What do I hear?" exclaimed Mrs. Disbrowe. "Who are you, and what bringsyou here?"

  "You may guess my errand from my presence," replied the knight. "I amcalled Sir Paul Parravicin, and am the most devoted of your admirers."

  "My husband surrender me to a stranger! It cannot be!" cried the lady,distractedly.

  "You see me here, and may judge of the truth of my statement," rejoinedthe knight. "Your husband gave me this key, with which I introducedmyself to the house."

  "What motive could he have for such unheard-of baseness--suchbarbarity?" cried Mrs. Disbrowe, bursting into tears.

  "Shall I tell you, madam?" replied Parravicin. "He is tired of you, andhas taken this means of ridding himself of you."

  Mrs. Disbrowe uttered a loud scream, and fell back in the bed.Parravicin waited for a moment; but not hearing her move, brought thelamp to see what was the matter. She had fainted, and was lying acrossthe pillow, with her night-dress partly open, so as to expose her neckand shoulders.

  The knight was at first ravished with her beauty; but his countenancesuddenly fell, and an expression of horror and alarm took possession ofit. He appeared rooted to the spot, and instead of attempting to renderher any assistance, remained with his gaze fixed upon her neck.

  Rousing himself at length, he rushed out of the room, hurried downstairs, and without pausing for a moment, threw open the street-door. Ashe issued from it, his throat was forcibly griped, and the point of asword was placed at his breast.

  "You are now in my power, villain," cried Disbrowe, "and shall notescape my vengeance."

  "You are already avenged," replied Parravicin, shaking off hisassailant. "Your wife has the plague."

  VII.

  THE PLAGUE NURSE.

  "And so my husband has got the plague," muttered Mother Malmayns, as shehastened towards Saint Paul's, after the reproof she had received fromDoctor Hodges. "Well, it's a disorder that few recover from, and I don'tthink he stands a better chance than his fellows. I've been troubledwith him long enough. I've borne his ill-usage and savage temper fortwenty years, vainly hoping something would take him off; but though hetried his constitution hard, it was too tough to yield. However, he'slikely to go now. If I find him better than I expect, I can easily makeall sure. That's one good thing about the plague. You may get rid of apatient without any one being the wiser. A wrong mixture--a pillowremoved--a moment's chill during the fever--a glass of cold water--theslightest thing will do it. Matthew Malmayns, you will die of theplague, that's certain. But I must be careful how I proceed. That curseddoctor has his eye upon me. As luck would have it, I've got Sibbald'sointment in my pocket. That is sure to do its business--and safely."

  Thus ruminating, she shaped her course tow
ards the southwest corner ofthe cathedral, and passing under the shrouds and cloisters of theConvocation House, raised the latch of a small wooden shed fixed in theangle of a buttress. Evidently well acquainted with the place, she wasnot long in finding a lantern and materials to light it, and insertingher fingers in a crevice of the masonry, from which the mortar had beenremoved, she drew forth a key.

  "It has not been stirred since I left it here a month ago," shemuttered. "I must take care of this key, for if Matthew _should_ die, Imay not be able to enter the vaults of Saint Faith's without it; and asI know all their secret places and passages, which nobody else does,except my husband, I can make them a storehouse for the plunder I mayobtain during the pestilence. If it rages for a year, or only half thattime, and increases in violence (as God grant it may), I will fill everyhole in those walls with gold."

  With this, she took up the lantern, and crept along the side of thecathedral, until she came to a flight of stone steps. Descending them,she unlocked a small but strong door, cased with iron, and fastening itafter her, proceeded along a narrow stone passage, which brought her toanother door, opening upon the south aisle of Saint Faith's.

  Pausing for a moment to listen whether any one was within the sacredstructure--for such was the dead and awful silence of the place, thatthe slightest whisper or footfall, even at its farthest extremity, couldbe distinguished--she crossed to the other side, glancing fearfullyaround her as she threaded the ranks of pillars, whose heavy andembrowned shafts her lantern feebly illumined, and entering a recess,took a small stone out of the wall, and deposited the chief part of thecontents of her pocket behind it, after which she carefully replaced thestone. This done, she hurried to the charnel, and softly opened the doorof the crypt.

  Greatly relieved by the operation he had undergone, the sexton had sunkinto a slumber, and was, therefore, unconscious of the entrance of hiswife, who, setting down the lantern, advanced towards the pallet. Hismother and the young man were still in attendance, and the former, onseeing her daughter-in-law, exclaimed, in low but angry accents--"Whatbrings you here, Judith? I suppose you expected to find my son dead. Buthe will disappoint you. Doctor Hodges said he would recover--did he notKerrich?" she added, appealing to the young man, who noddedacquiescence. "He will recover, I tell you."

  "Well, well," replied Judith, in the blandest tone she could assume; "Ihope he will. And if the doctor says so, I have no doubt of it. I onlyheard of his illness a few minutes ago, and came instantly to nursehim."

  "_You_ nurse him?" cried the old woman; "if you show him any affectionnow, it will be for the first time since your wedding-day."

  "How long has he been unwell?" demanded Judith, with difficultyrepressing her anger.

  "He was seized the night before last," replied the old woman; "but hedidn't know what was the matter with him when it began. I saw him justbefore he went to rest, and he complained of a slight illness, butnothing to signify. He must have passed a frightful night, for thevergers found him in the morning running about Saint Faith's like amadman, and dashing his spades and mattocks against the walls andpillars. They secured him, and brought him here, and on examination, heproved to have the plague."

  "You surprise me by what you say," replied Judith. "During the lastmonth, I have nursed more than a dozen patients, and never knew any ofthem so violent. I must look at his sore."

  "The doctor has just dressed it," observed the old woman.

  "I don't mind that," rejoined Judith, turning down the blanket, andexamining her husband's shoulder. "You are right," she added, "he isdoing as well as possible."

  "I suppose I shan't be wanted any more," observed Kerrich, "now you'recome back to nurse your husband, Mrs. Malmayns? I shall be glad to gethome to my own bed, for I don't feel well at all."

  "Don't alarm yourself," replied Judith. "There's a bottle of plaguevinegar for you. Dip a piece of linen in it, and smell at it, and I'llinsure you against the pestilence."

  Kerrich took the phial, and departed. But the remedy was of littleavail. Before daybreak, he was seized with the distemper, and died twodays afterwards.

  "I hope poor Kerrich hasn't got the plague?" said the old woman, in atremulous tone.

  "I am afraid he has," replied the daughter-in-law, "but I didn't like toalarm him."

  "Mercy on us!" cried the other, getting up. "What a dreadful scourge itis."

  "You would say so, if you had seen whole families swept off by it, as Ihave," replied Judith. "But it mostly attacks old persons and children."

  "Lord help us!" cried the crone, "I hope it will spare me. I thought myage secured me."

  "Quite the reverse," replied Judith, desirous of exciting hermother-in-law's terrors; "quite the reverse. You must take care ofyourself."

  "But you don't think I'm ill, do you?" asked the other, anxiously.

  "Sit down, and let me look at you," returned Judith.

  And the old woman tremblingly obeyed.

  "Well, what do you think of me--what's the matter?" she asked, as herdaughter-in-law eyed her for some minutes in silence. "What's thematter, I say?"

  But Judith remained silent.

  "I insist upon knowing," continued the old woman.

  "Are you able to bear the truth?" returned her daughter-in-law.

  "You need say no more," groaned the old woman. "I know what the truthmust be, and will try to bear it. I will get home as fast as I can, andput my few affairs in order, so that if I am carried off, I may not gounprepared."

  "You had better do so," replied her daughter-in-law.

  "You will take care of my poor son, Judith," rejoined the old woman,shedding a flood of tears. "I would stay with him, if I thought I coulddo him any good; but if I really am infected, I might only be in theway. Don't neglect him--as you hope for mercy hereafter, do not."

  "Make yourself easy, mother," replied Judith. "I will take every care ofhim."

  "Have you no fears of the disorder yourself?" inquired the old woman.

  "None whatever," replied Judith. "I am _a safe woman_."

  "I do not understand you," replied her mother-in-law, in surprise.

  "I have had the plague," replied Judith; "and those who have had itonce, never take it a second time."

  This opinion, entertained at the commencement of the pestilence, it maybe incidentally remarked, was afterwards found to be entirely erroneous;some persons being known to have the distemper three or four times.

  "You never let us know you were ill," said the old woman.

  "I could not do so," replied Judith, "and I don't know that I shouldhave done if I could. I was nursing two sisters at a small house inClerkenwell Close, and they both died in the night-time, within a fewhours of each other. The next day, as I was preparing to leave thehouse, I was seized myself, and had scarcely strength to creep up-stairsto bed. An old apothecary, named Sibbald, who had brought drugs to thehouse, attended me, and saved my life. In less than a week, I was wellagain, and able to move about, and should have returned home, but theapothecary told me, as I had had the distemper once, I might resume myoccupation with safety. I did so, and have found plenty of employment."

  "No doubt," rejoined the old woman; "and you will find plentymore--plenty more."

  "I hope so," replied the other.

  "Oh! do not give utterance to such a dreadful wish, Judith," rejoinedher mother-in-law. "Do not let cupidity steel your heart to every betterfeeling."

  A slight derisive smile passed over the harsh features of theplague-nurse.

  "You heed me not," pursued the old woman. "But a time will come when youwill recollect my words."

  "I am content to wait till then," rejoined Judith.

  "Heaven grant you a better frame of mind!" exclaimed the old woman. "Imust take one last look of my son, for it is not likely I shall see himagain."

  "Not in this world," thought Judith.

  "I conjure you, by all that is sacred, not to neglect him," said the oldwoman.

  "I have already promised to do so," rep
lied Judith, impatiently."Good-night, mother."

  "It will be a long good-night to me, I fear," returned the dame. "DoctorHodges promised to send some blankets and medicine for poor Matthew. Thedoctor is a charitable man to the poor, and if he learns I am sick, hemay, perhaps, call and give me advice."

  "I am sure he will," replied Judith. "Should the man bring the blankets,I will tell him to acquaint his master with your condition. And now takethis lantern, mother, and get home as fast as you can."

  So saying, she almost pushed her out of the vault, and closed the doorafter her.

  "At last I am rid of her," she muttered. "She would have been a spy overme. I hope I have frightened her into the plague. But if she dies offear, it will answer my purpose as well. And now for my husband."

  Taking up the lamp, and shading it with her hand, she gazed at hisghastly countenance.

  "He slumbers tranquilly," she muttered, after contemplating him for sometime, adding with a chuckling laugh, "it would be a pity to waken him."

  And seating herself on a stool near the pallet, she turned over in hermind in what way she could best execute her diabolical purpose.

  While she was thus occupied, the messenger from Doctor Hodges arrivedwith a bundle of blankets and several phials and pots of ointment. Theman offered to place the blankets on the pallet, but Judith would notlet him.

  "I can do it better myself, and without disturbing the poor sufferer,"she said. "Give my dutiful thanks to your master. Tell him my husband'smother, old widow Malmayns, fancies herself attacked by the plague, andif he will be kind enough to visit her, she lodges in the upper attic ofa baker's house, at the sign of the Wheatsheaf, in Little Distaff-lane,hard by."

  "I will not fail to deliver your message to the doctor," replied theman, as he took his departure.

  Left alone with her husband a second time, Judith waited till shethought the man had got out of the cathedral, and then rising and takingthe lamp, she repaired to the charnel, to make sure it was untenanted.Not content with this, she stole out into Saint Faith's, and gazinground as far as the feeble light of her lamp would permit, called out ina tone that even startled herself, "Is any one lurking there?" butreceiving no other answer than was afforded by the deep echoes of theplace, she returned to the vault. Just as she reached the door, a loudcry burst upon her ear, and rushing forward, she found that her husbandhad wakened.

  "Ah!" roared Malmayns, raising himself in bed, as he perceived her, "areyou come back again, you she-devil? Where is my mother? Where isKerrich? What have you done with them?"

  "They have both got the plague," replied his wife. "They caught it fromyou. But never mind them. I will watch over you as long as you live."

  "And that will be for years, you accursed jade," replied the sexton;"Dr. Hodges says I shall recover."

  "You have got worse since he left you," replied Judith. "Lie down, andlet me throw these blankets over you."

  "Off!" cried the sick man, furiously. "You shall not approach me. Youwant to smother me."

  "I want to cure you," replied his wife, heaping the blankets upon thepallet. "The doctor has sent some ointment for your sore."

  "Then let him apply it himself," cried Malmayns, shaking his fist ather. "You shall not touch me. I will strangle you if you come near me."

  "Matthew," replied his wife, "I have had the plague myself, and know howto treat it better than any doctor in London. I will cure you, if youwill let me."

  "I have no faith in you," replied Malmayns, "but I suppose I mustsubmit. Take heed what you do to me, for if I have but five minutes tolive, it will be long enough to revenge myself upon you."

  "I will anoint your sore with this salve," rejoined Judith, producing apot of dark-coloured ointment, and rubbing his shoulder with it. "It wasgiven me by Sibbald, the apothecary of Clerkenwell He is a friend ofChowles, the coffin-maker. You know Chowles, Matthew?"

  "I know him for as great a rascal as ever breathed," replied herhusband, gruffly. "He has always cheated me out of my dues, and hiscoffins are the worst I ever put under ground."

  "He is making his fortune now," said Judith.

  "By the plague, eh?" replied Matthew. "I don't envy him. Money so gainedwon't stick to him. He will never prosper."

  "I wish _you_ had his money, Matthew," replied his wife, in a coaxingtone.

  "If the plague hadn't attacked me when it did, I should have been richerthan Chowles will ever be," replied the sexton,--"nay, I am richer as itis."

  "You surprise me," replied Judith, suddenly pausing in her task. "Howhave you obtained your wealth?"

  "I have discovered a treasure," replied, the sexton, with a mockinglaugh,--"a secret hoard--a chest of gold--ha! ha!"

  "Where--where?" demanded his wife, eagerly.

  "That's a secret," replied Matthew.

  "I must have it from him before he dies," thought his wife. "Had webetter not secure it without delay?" she added, aloud. "Some otherperson may find it."

  "Oh, it's safe enough," replied Matthew. "It has remained undiscoveredfor more than a hundred years, and will continue so for a hundred tocome, unless I bring it forth."

  "But you _will_ bring it forth, won't you?" said Judith.

  "Undoubtedly," replied Matthew, "if I get better. But not otherwise.Money would be of no use to me in the grave."

  "But it would be of use to _me_," replied his wife.

  "Perhaps it might," replied the sexton; "but if I die, the knowledge ofthe treasure shall die with me."

  "He is deceiving me," thought Judith, beginning to rub his shoulderafresh.

  "I suspect you have played me false, you jade," cried Malmayns, writhingwith pain. "The stuff you have applied burns like caustic, and eats intomy flesh."

  "It is doing its duty," replied his wife, calmly watching his agonies."You will soon be easier."

  "Perhaps I shall--in death," groaned the sufferer. "I am parched withthirst. Give me a glass of water."

  "You shall have wine, Matthew, if you prefer it. I have a flask in mypocket," she replied. "But what of the treasure--where is it?"

  "Peace!" he cried. "I will baulk your avaricious hopes. You shall neverknow where it is."

  "I shall know as much as you do," she rejoined, in a tone ofincredulity. "I don't believe a word you tell me. You have found notreasure."

  "If this is the last word I shall ever utter, I _have_," he returned;--"a mighty treasure. But you shall never possess it--never!--ah! ah!"

  "Nor shall you have the wine," she replied; "there is water for you,"she added, handing him a jug, which he drained with frantic eagerness."He is a dead man," she muttered.

  "I am chilled to the heart," grasped the sexton, shivering from head tofoot, while chill damps gathered on his brow. "I have done wrong indrinking the water, and you ought not to have given it me."

  "You asked for it," she replied. "You should have had wine but for yourobstinacy. But I will save you yet, if you will tell me where to findthe treasure."

  "Look for it in my grave," he returned, with a hideous grin.

  Soon after this, he fell into a sort of stupor. His wife could now haveeasily put a period to his existence, but she still hoped to wrest thesecret from him. She was assured, moreover, that his recovery washopeless. At the expiration of about two hours, he was aroused by theexcruciating anguish of his sore. He had again become delirious, andraved as before about coffins, corpses, graves, and other loathsomematters. Seeing, from his altered looks and the livid and gangrenousappearance which the tumour had assumed, that his end was not far off,Judith resolved not to lose a moment, but to try the effect of a suddensurprise. Accordingly, she bent down her head, and shouted in his ear,"What has become of your treasure, Matthew?"

  The plan succeeded to a miracle. The dying man instantly raised himself.

  "My treasure!" he echoed with a yell that made the vault ring again."Well thought on! I have not secured it. They are carrying it off. Imust prevent them." And throwing off the coverings, he sprang out ofbed.

&
nbsp; "I shall have it now," thought his wife. "You are right," sheadded,--"they are carrying it off. The vergers have discovered it. Theyare digging it up. We must instantly prevent them."

  "We must!" shrieked Malmayns. "Bring the light! bring the light!" Andbursting open the door, he rushed into the adjoining aisle.

  "He will kill himself, and discover the treasure into the bargain,"cried Judith, following him. "Ah! what do I see! People in the church.Curses on them! they have ruined my hopes."

  VIII.

  THE MOSAICAL RODS.

  In pursuance of their design of seeking out an astrologer, Maurice Wyviland Lydyard crossed Cheapside and entered Friday-street. They had notproceeded far, when they perceived a watchman standing beneath a porchwith a lantern in his hand, and thinking it an intimation that the housewas attacked by the plague, they hurried to the opposite side of thestreet, and called to the watchman to inquire whether he knew where Mr.Lilly lived.

  Ascertaining that the house they sought was only a short distance off,they repaired thither, and knocking at the door, a small wicket,protected by a grating, was open within it, and a sharp female voiceinquired their business.

  "Give this to your master, sweetheart," replied Wyvil, slipping a pursethrough the grating; "and tell him that two gentlemen desire to consulthim."

  "He is engaged just now," replied the woman, in a much softer tone; "butI will take your message to him."

  "You have more money than wit," laughed Lydyard. "You should have keptback your fee till you had got the information."

  "In that case I should never have received any," replied Wyvil. "I havetaken the surest means of obtaining admission to the house."

  As he spoke, the door was unbolted by the woman, who proved to be youngand rather pretty. She had a light in her hand, and directing them tofollow her, led the way to a sort of anteroom, divided, as it appeared,from a larger room by a thick black curtain. Drawing aside the drapery,their conductress ushered them into the presence of three individuals,who were seated at a table strewn with papers, most of which werecovered with diagrams and, astrological calculations.

  One of these persons immediately rose on their appearance, and gravelybut courteously saluted them. He was a tall man, somewhat advanced inlife, being then about sixty-three, with an aquiline nose, dark eyes,not yet robbed of their lustre, grey hair waving over his shoulders, anda pointed beard and moustache. The general expression of his countenancewas shrewd and penetrating, and yet there were certain indications ofcredulity about it, showing that he was as likely to be imposed uponhimself as to delude others. It is scarcely necessary to say that thiswas Lilly.

  The person on his right, whose name was John Booker, and who, likehimself, was a proficient in astrology, was so buried in calculation,that he did not raise his eyes from the paper on the approach of thestrangers. He was a stout man, with homely but thoughtful features, andthough not more than a year older than Lilly, looked considerably hissenior. With the exception of a few silver curls hanging down the backof his neck, he was completely bald; but his massive and towering browseemed to indicate the possession of no ordinary intellectual qualities.He was a native of Manchester, and was born in 1601, of a good family."His excellent verses upon the twelve months," says Lilly, in hisautobiography, "framed according to the configurations of each month,being blessed with success according to his predictions, procured himmuch reputation all over England. He was a very honest man," continuesthe same authority; "abhorred any deceit in the art he studied; had acurious fancy in judging of thefts; and was successful in resolvinglove-questions. He was no mean proficient in astronomy; understood muchin physic, was a great admirer of the antimonial cup; and not unlearnedin chemistry, which he loved well, but did not practise." At the periodof this history, he was clerk to Sir Hugh Hammersley, alderman.

  The third person,--a minor canon of Saint Paul's, named ThomasQuatremain,--was a grave, sallow-complexioned man, with a morose andrepulsive physiognomy. He was habited in the cassock of a churchman ofthe period, and his black velvet cap lay beside him on the table. LikeBooker, he was buried in calculations, and though he looked up for amoment as the others entered the room, he instantly resumed his task,without regard to their presence.

  After looking earnestly at his visitors for a few moments, and appearingto study their features, Lilly motioned them to be seated; but theydeclined the offer.

  "I am not come to take up your time, Mr. Lilly," said Wyvil, "but simplyto ask your judgment in a matter in which I am much interested."

  "First permit me to return you your purse, sir, since it is from you, Ipresume, that I received it," replied the astrologer. "No informationthat I can give deserves so large a reward as this."

  Wyvil would have remonstrated. But seeing the other resolute, he wasfain to concede the point.

  "What question do you desire to have resolved, sir?" pursued Lilly.

  "Shall I be fortunate in my hopes?" rejoined Wyvil.

  "You must be a little more precise," returned the astrologer. "To whatdo your hopes relate?--to wealth, dignity, or love?"

  "To the latter," replied Wyvil.

  "So I inferred from your appearance, sir," rejoined Lilly, smiling."Venus was strong in your nativity, though well-dignified; and I should,therefore, say you were not unfrequently entangled in love affairs. Yourinamorata, I presume, is young, perhaps fair,--blue-eyed, brown-haired,tall, slender, and yet perfectly proportioned."

  "She is all you describe," replied Wyvil.

  "Is she of your own rank?" asked Lilly.

  "Scarcely so," replied Wyvil, hesitating before he answered thequestion.

  "I will instantly erect a scheme," replied the astrologer, rapidlytracing a figure on a sheet of paper. "The question refers to theseventh house. I shall take Venus as the natural significatrix of thelady. The moon is in trine with the lord of the ascendant,--so far,good; but there is a cross aspect from Mars, who darts forth maliciousrays upon them. Your suit will probably be thwarted. But what Marsbindeth, Venus dissolveth. It is not wholly hopeless. I should recommendyou to persevere."

  "Juggler!" exclaimed "Wyvil between his teeth.

  "I am no juggler!" replied Lilly, angrily; "and to prove I am not, Iwill tell you who you are who thus insult me, though you have notannounced yourself, and are desirous of preserving your _incognito_. Youare the Earl of Rochester, and your companion is Sir George Etherege."

  "'Fore heaven! we are discovered," cried the earl; "but whether by art,magic, or from previous acquaintance with our features, I pretend not todetermine."

  "In either case, my lord,--for it is useless, since you have avowedyourself, to address you longer as Wyvil," replied Etherege,--"you oweMr. Lilly an apology for the insult you have offered him. It was asundeserved as uncalled for; for he described your position with Amabelexactly."

  "I am sorry for what I said," replied the earl, with great frankness,"and entreat Mr. Lilly to overlook it, and impute it to its realcause,--disappointment at his judgment."

  "I wish I could give you better hopes, my lord," replied Lilly; "but Ireadily accept your apology. Have you any further questions to ask me?"

  "Not to-night," replied the earl; "except that I would gladly learnwhether it is your opinion that the plague will extend its ravages?"

  "It will extend them so far, my lord, that there shall neither beburiers for the dead, nor sound to look after the sick," replied Lilly."You may have seen a little tract of mine published in 1651,--somefourteen years ago,--called '_Monarchy or No Monarchy in England_,' inwhich, by an hieroglyphic, I foretold this terrible calamity."

  "I heard his majesty speak of the book no later than yesterday," repliedRochester. "He has the highest opinion of your skill, Mr. Lilly, as hecannot blind himself to the fact that you foretold his father's death.But this is not the only visitation with which you threaten our devotedcity."

  "It is threatened by Heaven, not by me, my lord," replied Lilly. "Londonwill be devoured by plague and consumed by fire."

&
nbsp; "In our time?" asked Etherege.

  "Before two years have passed over our heads," returned the astrologer."The pestilence originated in the conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter inSagittarius, on the 10th of last October, and the conjunction of Saturnand Mars in the same sign, on the 12th of November. It was harbingeredalso by the terrible comet of January, which appeared in a cadent andobscure house, denoting sickness and death: and another and yet moreterrible comet, which will be found in the fiery triplicity of Aries,Leo, and Sagittarius, will be seen before the conflagration."

  "My calculations are, that the plague will be at its worst in August andSeptember, and will not cease entirely till the beginning of December,"observed Booker, laying aside his pen.

  "And I doubt not you are right, sir," said Lilly, "for your calculationsare ever most exact."

  "My labour is not thrown away, Mr. Lilly," cried Quatremain, who hadfinished his task at the same time. "I have discovered what I have longsuspected, that treasure _is_ hidden in Saint Paul's Cathedral. Mercuryis posited in the north angle of the fourth house; the dragon's tail islikewise within it; and as Sol is the significator, it must be gold."

  "True," replied Lilly.

  "Furthermore," proceeded Quatremain, "as the sign is earthy, thetreasure must be buried in the vaults."

  "Undoubtedly," replied Booker.

  "I am all impatience to search for it," said Quatremain. "Let us gothere at once, and make trial of the mosaical rods."

  "With all my heart," replied Lilly. "My lord," he added to Rochester, "Imust pray you to excuse me. You have heard what claims my attention."

  "I have," returned the earl, "and should like to accompany you in thequest, if you will permit me."

  "You must address yourself to Mr. Quatremain," rejoined Lilly. "If heconsents, I can make no objection."

  The minor canon, on being appealed to, signified his acquiescence, andafter some slight preparation, Lilly produced two hazel rods, and theparty set out.

  A few minutes' walking brought them to the northern entrance of thecathedral, where they speedily aroused the poor verger, who began tofancy he was to have no rest that night. On learning their purpose,however, he displayed the utmost alacrity, and by Quatremain'sdirections went in search of his brother-verger, and a mason, who, beingemployed at the time in making repairs in the chantries, lodged withinthe cathedral.

  This occasioned a delay of a few minutes, during which Rochester andEtherege had an opportunity, like that enjoyed a short time before byLeonard Holt, of beholding the magnificent effect of the columned aislesby moonlight. By this time the other verger, who was a young and activeman, and the mason, arrived, and mattocks, spades, and an iron bar beingprocured, and a couple of torches lighted, they descended to SaintFaith's.

  Nothing more picturesque can be conceived than the effect of thetorchlight on the massive pillars and low-browed roof of thesubterranean church. Nor were the figures inappropriate to the scene.Lilly, with the mosaical rods in his hand, which he held at a shortdistance from the floor, moving first to one point, then to another; nowlingering within the gloomy nave, now within the gloomier aisles; thegrave minor canon, who kept close beside him, and watched his movementswith the most intense anxiety; Booker, with his venerable headuncovered, and his bald brow reflecting the gleam of the torches; thetwo court gallants in their rich attire; and the vergers and theircomrade, armed with the implements for digging;--all constituted astriking picture. And as Rochester stepped aside to gaze at it, hethought he had never beheld a more singular scene.

  Hitherto, no success had attended the searchers. The mosaical rods hadcontinued motionless. At length, however, Lilly reached a part of thewall where a door appeared to have been stopped up, and playing the rodsnear it, they turned one over the other.

  "The treasure is here!" he exclaimed. "It is hidden beneath this flag."

  Instantly, all were in action. Quatremain called to his assistants tobring their mattocks and the iron bar. Rochester ran up and tendered hisaid; Etherege did the same; and in a few moments the flag was forcedfrom its position.

  On examination, it seemed as if the ground beneath it had been recentlydisturbed, though it was carefully trodden down. But without stopping toinvestigate the matter, the mason and the younger verger commenceddigging. When they were tired, Lilly and Quatremain took their places,and in less than an hour they had got to the depth of upwards of fourfeet. Still nothing had been found, and Lilly was just about torelinquish his spade to the mason, when, plunging it more deeply intothe ground, it struck against some hard substance.

  "It is here--we have it!" he cried, renewing his exertions.

  Seconded by Quatremain, they soon cleared off the soil, and came to whatappeared to be a coffin or a large chest. Both then got out of the pitto consider how they should remove the chest; the whole party werediscussing the matter, when a tremendous crash, succeeded by a terrificyell, was heard at the other end of the church, and a ghastly andhalf-naked figure, looking like a corpse broken from the tomb, rushedforward with lightning swiftness, and shrieking--"My treasure!--mytreasure!--you shall not have it!"--thrust aside the group, and plungedinto the excavation.

  When the bystanders recovered sufficient courage to drag the unfortunatesexton out of the pit, they found him quite dead.

  IX.

  THE MINIATURE.

  According to his promise, Doctor Hodges visited the grocer's house earlyon the following day, and the favourable opinion he had expressedrespecting Stephen Bloundel was confirmed by the youth's appearance. Thepustule had greatly increased in size; but this the doctor looked uponas a good sign: and after applying fresh poultices, and administering ahot posset-drink, he covered the patient with blankets, and recommendingas much tranquillity as possible, he proceeded, at Bloundel's request,to ascertain the state of health of the rest of the family. Satisfiedthat all the household (including Blaize, who, being a little out oforder from the quantity of medicine he had swallowed, kept his bed) wereuninfected, he went upstairs, and finding the two boys quite well, andplaying with their little sister Christiana, in the happyunconsciousness of childhood, he tapped at the door of Mrs. Bloundel'schamber, and was instantly admitted. Amabel did not raise her eyes athis entrance, but continued the employment on which she was engaged. Hermother, however, overwhelmed him with inquiries as to the sufferer, andentreated him to prevail upon her husband to let her take his place atthe sick bed.

  "I cannot accede to your request, madam," replied Hodges; "because Ithink the present arrangement the best that could be adopted."

  "And am I not to see poor Stephen again?" cried Mrs. Bloundel, burstinginto tears.

  "I hope you will soon see him again, and not lose sight of him for manyyears to come," replied the doctor. "As far as I can judge, the dangeris over, and, aided by your husband's care and watchfulness, I havelittle doubt of bringing the youth round."

  "You reconcile me to the deprivation, doctor," rejoined Mrs. Bloundel;"but can you insure my husband against the distemper?"

  "I can insure no one against contagion," replied Hodges; "but there ismuch in his favour. He has no fear, and takes every needful precaution.You must hope for the best. I think it right to tell you, that you willbe separated from him for a month."

  "Separated from my husband for a month, doctor!" cried Mrs. Bloundel. "Imust see him to-day. I have something of importance to say to him."

  At this point of the conversation Amabel for the first time looked up.Her eyes were red and inflamed with weeping, and her looks betrayedgreat internal suffering.

  "You cannot see my father, mother," she said in a broken andsupplicatory tone.

  "But she can write to him, or send a message by me," rejoined Hodges. "Iwill deliver it when I go downstairs."

  "What my mother has to say cannot be confided to a third party, sir,"returned Amabel.

  "Better defer it, then," said the doctor, who, as he looked hard at her,and saw the colour mount to her cheeks, began to suspect something ofthe truth. "What
ever you have to say, Mrs. Bloundel, may be very welldelayed; for the house is now closed, with a watchman at the door, andwill continue so for a month to come. No one can quit it, except membersof our profession, searchers, nurses, and other authorized persons,during that time."

  "But can no one enter it, do you think?" asked Mrs. Bloundel.

  "No one would desire to do so, I should conceive, except a lover,"replied Hodges, with a sly look at Amabel, who instantly averted hergaze. "Where a pretty girl is concerned, the plague itself has noterrors."

  "Precisely my opinion, doctor," rejoined Mrs. Bloundel; "and as I cannotconsult my husband, perhaps you will favour me with your advice as tohow I ought to act, if such a person as you describe should get into thehouse."

  "I seldom meddle with family matters," rejoined Hodges; "but I feel somuch interest in all that relates to Mr. Bloundel, that I am induced todepart from my rule on the present occasion. It is evident you have lostyour heart," he added, to Amabel, whose blushes told him he was right;"but not, I hope, to one of those worthless court-gallants, who, as Ilearn from common report, are in the habit of toasting you daily. If itis so, you must subdue your passion; for it cannot lead to good. Be notdazzled by a brilliant exterior, which often conceals a treacherousheart; but try to fix your affections on some person of littlepretension, but of solid worth. Never, I grieve to say, was there aseason when such universal profligacy prevailed as at present. Never wasit so necessary for a young maiden, possessed of beauty like yours, toact with discretion. Never was a court so licentious as that of oursovereign, Charles the Second, whose corrupt example is imitated byevery one around him, while its baneful influence extends to allclasses. Were I to echo the language of the preachers, I should say itwas owing to the wickedness and immorality of the times that thisdreadful judgment of the plague has been inflicted upon us; but I merelybring it forward as an argument to prove to you, Amabel, that if youwould escape the moral contagion by which you are threatened, you mustput the strictest guard upon your conduct."

  Amabel faintly murmured her thanks.

  "You speak as my husband himself would have spoken," said Mrs. Bloundel."Ah! we little thought, when we prayed that the pestilence might beaverted from us, that a worse calamity was behind, and that one of themost profligate of the courtiers you have mentioned would find his wayto our house."

  "One of the most profligate of them?" cried Hodges. "Who, in Heaven'sname?"

  "He calls himself Maurice Wyvil," replied Mrs. Bloundel.

  "I never heard of such a person," rejoined the doctor. "It must be anassumed name. Have you no letter or token that might lead to hisdiscovery?" he added, turning to Amabel.

  "I have his portrait," she replied, drawing a small miniature from herbosom.

  "I am glad I have seen this," said the doctor, slightly starting as hecast his eyes upon it. "I hope it is not too late to save you, Amabel,"he added, in a severe tone. "I hope you are free from contamination?"

  "As I live, I am," she replied. "But you recognise the likeness?"

  "I do," returned Hodges. "It is the portrait of one whose vices anddepravity are the town's cry, and whose name coupled with that of awoman, is sufficient to sully her reputation."

  "It is the Earl of Rochester," said Mrs. Bloundel.

  "You have guessed aright," replied the doctor; "it is."

  Uttering an exclamation of surprise and terror, Amabel fell back in herchair.

  "I thought it must be that wicked nobleman," cried Mrs. Bloundel. "Wouldyou believe it, doctor, that he forced himself into the house--nay, intothis room--last night, and would have carried off my daughter, in spiteof her resistance, if I had not prevented him."

  "I can believe anything of him," replied Hodges. "But your husband, ofcourse, knows nothing of the matter?"

  "Not as yet," replied Mrs. Bloundel; "but I authorize you to tell himall."

  "Mother, dear mother," cried Amabel, flinging herself on her kneesbefore her, "I implore you not to add to my father's present distress. Imight not have been able to conquer my attachment to Maurice Wyvil, butnow that I find he is the Earl of Rochester, I regard him withabhorrence."

  "If I could believe you sincere," said Mrs. Bloundel, "I might beinduced to spare your father the pain which the knowledge of thisunfortunate affair would necessarily inflict."

  "I am sincere,--indeed I am," replied Amabel.

  "To prove that the earl could not have had honourable intentions towardsyou, Amabel," said the doctor, "I may mention that he is at this momenturging his suit with Mistress Mallet,--a young heiress."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Amabel."

  "I was in attendance upon Mistress Stewart, the king's presentfavourite, the day before yesterday," continued Hodges, "and heard hismajesty entreat her to use her influence with Mistress Mallet inRochester's behalf. After this, you cannot doubt the nature of hisintentions towards yourself."

  "I cannot--I cannot," rejoined Amabel. "He is perfidy itself. But isMistress Mallet very beautiful, doctor?"

  "Very beautiful, and very rich," he replied, "and the earl isdesperately in love with her. I heard him declare laughingly to theking, that if she would not consent to marry him, he would carry heroff."

  "Just what he said to me," exclaimed Amabel--"perjured and faithlessthat he is!"

  "Harp on that string, doctor," whispered Mrs. Bloundel. "You understandher feelings exactly."

  "Strangely enough," pursued the doctor, who, having carefully examinedthe miniature, had opened the back of the case, and could not repress asmile at what he beheld--"strangely enough, this very picture willconvince you of the earl's inconstancy. It was evidently designed forMistress Mallet, and, as she would not accept it, transferred to you."

  "How do you know this, sir?" inquired Amabel, in a mortified tone.

  "Hear what is written within it," answered Hodges, laying the open casebefore her, and reading as follows: "'To the sole possessor of hisheart, the fair Mistress Mallet, this portrait is offered by her devotedslave--ROCHESTER.' 'The _sole_ possessor of his heart!' So you have noshare in it, you perceive, Amabel. 'Her devoted slave!' Is he your slavelikewise? Ha! ha!"

  "It _is_ his writing," cried Amabel. "This note," she added, producing abillet, "is in the same hand. My eyes are indeed open to his treachery."

  "I am glad to hear it," replied Hodges, "and if I can preserve you fromthe snares of this noble libertine, I shall rejoice as much as in curingyour brother of the plague. But can you rely upon yourself, in case theearl should make another attempt to see you?"

  "I can," she averred confidently.

  "In that case there is nothing to apprehend," rejoined Hodges; "and Ithink it better on many accounts not to mention the subject to yourfather. It would only distract his mind, and prevent him from dulydischarging the painful task he has undertaken. Were I in your place,Amabel, I would not only forget my present perfidious lover, but wouldinstantly bestow my affections on some worthy person."

  "It would gladden me if she would do so," said Mrs. Bloundel.

  "There is your father's apprentice, Leonard Holt, a good-looking,well-grown lad," pursued the doctor; "and I much mistake if he isinsensible to your attractions."

  "I am sure he loves her dearly, doctor," replied Mrs. Bloundel. "He isas well-principled as well-looking. I have never had a fault to findwith him since he came to live with us. It will rejoice me, and I amsure would not displease my husband, to see our child united to LeonardHolt."

  "Well, what say you, Amabel?" asked Hodges. "Can you give him a hope?"

  "Alas, no!" replied Amabel; "I have been deceived once, but I will notbe deceived a second time. I will never wed."

  "So every woman says after her first disappointment," observed Hodges;"but not one in ten adheres to the resolution. When you become calmer, Iwould recommend you to think seriously of Leonard Holt."

  At this moment, a tap was heard at the door, and opening it, the doctorbeheld the person in question.

  "What is the matter?" cried Hodges. "I hope
nothing is amiss."

  "Nothing whatever," replied Leonard, "but my master wishes to see youbefore you leave the house."

  "I will go to him at once," replied the doctor. "Good day, Mrs.Bloundel. Take care of your daughter, and I hope she will take care ofherself. We have been talking about you, young man," he added in a lowtone to the apprentice, "and I have recommended you as a husband toAmabel."

  "There was a time, sir," rejoined Leonard, in a tone of deep emotion,"when I hoped it might be so, but that time is past."

  "No such thing," replied the doctor. "Now is the time to make animpression. Her heart is on the rebound. She is satisfied of her lover'streachery. Her mother is on your side. Do not neglect the presentopportunity, for another may not arrive." With this he pushed Leonardinto the room, and, shutting the door upon him, hurried downstairs.

  "You have arrived at a seasonable juncture, Leonard," observed Mrs.Bloundel, noticing the apprentice's perplexity, and anxious to relieveit. "We have just discovered that the person calling himself MauriceWyvil is no other than the Earl of Rochester."

  "Indeed!" exclaimed Leonard.

  "Yes, indeed," returned Mrs. Bloundel. "But this is not all. Amabel haspromised to forget him, and I have urged her to think of you."

  "Amabel," said Leonard, advancing towards her, and taking her hand, "Ican scarcely credit what I hear. Will you confirm your mother's words?"

  "Leonard," returned Amabel, "I am not insensible to your good qualities,and no one can more truly esteem you than I do. Nay, till Iunfortunately saw the Earl of Rochester, whom I knew not as such, Imight have loved you. But now I cannot call my heart my own. I have notthe affection you deserve to bestow upon you. If I can obliterate thistreacherous man's image from my memory--and Heaven, I trust, will giveme strength to do so--I will strive to replace it with your own."

  "That is all I ask," cried Leonard, dropping on his knee before her, andpressing his lips to her hand.

  "Nothing would make me happier than to see you united, my children,"said Mrs. Bloundel, bending affectionately over them.

  "And I would do anything to make you happy, dear mother," repliedAmabel, gently withdrawing her hand, from that of the apprentice.

  "Before I leave you," said Leonard, rising, "I must give you this note.I found it lying before your chamber door as I passed this morning. Howit came there I know not, but I can give a shrewd guess as to thewriter. I ought to tell you, that but for what has just occurred, Ishould not have delivered it to you."

  "It is from Wyvil--I mean Rochester," said Amabel, taking the note witha trembling hand.

  "Let me see it, child," cried Mrs. Bloundel, snatching it from her, andbreaking the seal. "Insolent!" she exclaimed, as she cast her eyes overit. "I can scarcely contain my indignation. But let him cross my pathagain, and he shall find whether I cannot resent such shameful usage."

  "What does he say, dear mother ?" asked Amabel.

  "You shall hear," replied Mrs. Bloundel, "though I blush to repeat hiswords: 'Amabel, you are mine. No one shall keep you from me. Love likemine will triumph over all obstacles!'--Love like his, forsooth!" sheremarked; "let him keep such stuff as that for Mistress Mallet, or hisother mistresses. But I will go on: 'I may be foiled ninety-nine times,but the hundredth will succeed. We shall soon meet again. 'MAURICE WYVIL.'"

  "Never!" cried Amabel. "We will never meet again. If he holds me thuscheaply, I will let him see that he is mistaken. Leonard Holt, I havetold you the exact state of my feelings. I do not love you now, but Iregard you as a true friend, and love may come hereafter. If in amonth's time you claim my hand; if my father consents to our union, foryou are aware that my mother will not oppose it--I am yours."

  Leonard attempted to speak, but his voice was choked with emotion, andthe tears started to his eyes.

  "Farewell," said Amabel. "Do not let us meet till the appointed time.Rest assured, I will think of you as you deserve."

  "We could not meet till that time, even if you desired it," saidLeonard, "for your father has forbidden any of the household, except oldJosyna, to approach you till all fear of contagion is at an end, and Iam now transgressing his commands. But your mother, I am sure, willacquit me of intentional disobedience."

  "I do," replied Mrs. Bloundel; "it was the doctor who forced you intothe room. But I am heartily glad he did so."

  "Farewell, Amabel," said Leonard. "Though I shall not see you, I willwatch carefully over you." And gazing at her with unutterable affection,he quitted the chamber.

  "You must now choose between the heartless and depraved nobleman, whowould desert you as soon as won," observed Mrs. Bloundel, "and thehonest apprentice, whose life would be devoted to your happiness."

  "I _have_ chosen," replied her daughter.

  Doctor Hodges found the grocer writing at a small table, close to thebedside of his son.

  "I am happy to tell you, Mr. Bloundel," he said, in a low tone, as heentered the room, "that all your family are still free from infection,and with due care will, I hope, continue so. But I entirely approve ofyour resolution of keeping apart from them till the month has expired.If your son goes on as he is doing now, he will be as strong as ever inless than a fortnight. Still, as we cannot foresee what may occur, it isbetter to err on the cautious side."

  "Pray be seated for a moment," rejoined the grocer, motioning the otherto the chair. "I mentioned to you last night that in case my sonrecovered, I had a plan which I trusted (under Providence!) wouldpreserve my family from the further assaults of the pestilence."

  "I remember your alluding to it," replied Hodges, "and should be glad toknow what it is."

  "I must tell it you in confidence," rejoined Bloundel, "because I thinksecresy essential to its entire accomplishment. My plan is a very simpleone, and only requires firmness in its execution--and that quality, Ithink, I possess. It is your opinion, I know, as it is my own, that theplague will increase in violence and endure for months--probably, tillnext winter. My intention is to store my house with provisions, as aship is victualled for a long voyage, and then to shut it up entirelytill the scourge ceases."

  "If your project is practicable," said Hodges, after a moment'sreflection, "I have no doubt it will be attended, with every good resultyou can desire. This house, which is large and roomy, is well adaptedfor your purpose. But you must consider well whether your family willsubmit to be imprisoned during the long period you propose."

  "They shall remain close prisoners, even if the pestilence lasts for atwelvemonth," replied the grocer. "Whoever quits the house, when it isonce closed, and on whatever plea, be it wife, son, or daughter, returnsnot. That is my fixed resolve."

  "And you are right," rejoined Hodges, "for on that determination thesuccess of your scheme entirely depends."

  While they were thus conversing, Leonard entered the chamber, andinformed his master that Chowles, the coffin-maker, and Mrs. Malmayns,the plague-nurse, desired to see him.

  "Mrs. Malmayns!" exclaimed Hodges, in surprise. "I heard that somethingvery extraordinary occurred last night in Saint Faith's. With yourpermission, Mr. Bloundel, she shall be admitted; I want to ask her a fewquestions. You had better hesitate about engaging her," he observed tothe grocer, as Leonard departed, "for she is a woman of very indifferentcharacter, though she may (for aught I know) be a good and fearlessnurse."

  "If there is any doubt about her, I _cannot_ hesitate," returnedBloundel.

  As he said this, the door was opened by Leonard, and Chowles and Judithentered the room. The latter, on seeing the doctor, looked greatlyembarrassed.

  "I have brought you the nurse I spoke of, Mr. Bloundel," said Chowles,bowing, "and am come to inquire whether you want a coffin to-night."

  "Mr. Bloundel is not likely to require a coffin at present, Chowles,"returned the doctor, severely; "neither does his son stand in need of anurse. How is your husband, Mrs. Malmayns?"

  "He is dead, sir," replied Judith.

  "Dead!" echoed the doctor. "When I left him at one o'clock this morn
ing,he was doing well. Your attendance seems to have accelerated his end."

  "His death was occasioned by an accident, sir," replied Judith. "Hebecame delirious about three o'clock, and, in spite of all my efforts todetain him, started out of bed, rushed into Saint Faith's, and threwhimself into a pit, which Mr. Lilly and some other persons had digged insearch of treasure."

  "This is a highly improbable story, Mrs. Malmayns," returned Hodges,"and I must have the matter thoroughly investigated before I lose sightof you."

  "I will vouch for the truth of Mrs. Malmayn's statement," interposedChowles.

  "You!" cried Hodges, contemptuously.

  "Yes, I," replied the coffin-maker. "It seems that the sexton had founda chest of treasure buried in Saint Faith's, and being haunted by theidea that some one was carrying it off, he suddenly sprang out of bed,and rushed to the church, where, sure enough, Mr. Lilly, Mr. Quatremain,the Earl of Rochester, and Sir George Etherege, having, by the help ofmosaical rods, discovered this very chest, were digging it up. PoorMatthew instantly plunged into the grave, and died of a sudden chill."

  "That is not impossible," observed Hodges, after a pause. "But what hasbecome of the treasure?"

  "It is in the possession of Mr. Quatremain, who has given notice of itto the proper authorities," replied Chowles. "It consists, as Iunderstand, of gold pieces struck in the reign of Philip and Mary,images of the same metal, crosses, pyxes, chalices, and other Popish andsuperstitious vessels, buried, probably, when Queen Elizabeth came tothe throne, and the religion changed."

  "Not unlikely," replied Hodges. "Where is your husband's body, Mrs.Malmayns?"

  "It has been removed to the vault which he usually occupied," repliedJudith. "Mr. Chowles has undertaken to bury it to-night."

  "I must see it first," replied Hodges, "and be sure that he has not metwith foul play."

  "And I will accompany you," said Chowles. "So you do not want a coffin,Mr. Bloundel?"

  The grocer shook his head.

  "Good day, Mr. Bloundel," said Hodges. "I shall visit you to-morrow, andhope to find your son as well as I leave him. Chowles, you will beanswerable for the safe custody of Mrs. Malmayns."

  "I have no desire to escape, sir," replied the nurse. "You will findeverything as I have represented."

  "We shall see," replied the doctor. "If not, you will have to tend thesick in Newgate."

  The trio then proceeded to Saint Paul's, and descended to the vaults.Hodges carefully examined the body of the unfortunate sexton, but thoughhe entertained strong suspicions, he could not pronounce positively thathe had been improperly treated; and as the statement of Mrs. Malmaynswas fully borne out by the vergers and others, he did not think itnecessary to pursue the investigation further. As soon as he was gone,Judith accompanied the coffin-maker to his residence, where sheremained, till the evening, when she was suddenly summoned, in a case ofurgency, by a messenger from Sibbald, the apothecary of Clerkenwell.

  X.

  THE DUEL.

  After Parravicin's terrible announcement, Disbrowe offered him nofurther violence, but, flinging down his sword, burst open the door, andrushed upstairs. His wife was still insensible, but the fatal mark thathad betrayed the presence of the plague to the knight manifested itselfalso to him, and he stood like one entranced, until Mrs. Disbrowe,recovering from her swoon, opened her eyes, and, gazing at him,cried--"You here!--Oh Disbrowe, I dreamed you had deserted me--had soldme to another."

  "Would it were a dream!" replied her husband.

  "And was it not so?" she rejoined, pressing her hand to her temples. "Itis true! oh! yes, I feel it is. Every circumstance rushes upon meplainly and distinctly. I see the daring libertine before me. He stoodwhere you stand, and told me what you had done."

  "What did he tell you, Margaret?" asked Disbrowe in a hollow voice.

  "He told me you were false--that you loved another, and had abandonedme."

  "He lied!" exclaimed Disbrowe, in a voice of uncontrollable fury. "It istrue that, in a moment of frenzy, I was tempted to set you--yes, _you_,Margaret--against all I had lost at play, and was compelled to yield upthe key of my house to the winner. But I have never been faithless toyou--never."

  "Faithless or not," replied his wife, bitterly, "it is plain you valueme less than play, or you would not have acted thus."

  "Reproach me not, Margaret," replied Disbrowe; "I would give worlds toundo what I have done."

  "Who shall guard me against the recurrence of such conduct?" said Mrs.Disbrowe, coldly. "But you have not yet informed me how I was saved."

  Disbrowe averted his head.

  "What mean you?" she cried, seizing his arm. "What has happened? Do notkeep me in suspense? Were you my preserver?"

  "Your preserver was the plague," rejoined Disbrowe, in a sombre tone.

  The unfortunate lady then, for the first time, perceived that she wasattacked by the pestilence, and a long and dreadful pause ensued, brokenonly by exclamations of anguish from both.

  "Disbrowe!" cried Margaret, at length, raising herself in bed, "you havedeeply--irrecoverably injured me. But promise me one thing."

  "I swear to do whatever you may desire," he replied.

  "I know not, after what I have heard, whether you have courage for thedeed," she continued. "But I would have you kill this man."

  "I will do it," replied Disbrowe.

  "Nothing but his blood can wipe out the wrong he has done me," sherejoined. "Challenge him to a duel--a mortal duel. If he survives, by mysoul, I will give myself to him."

  "Margaret!" exclaimed Disbrowe.

  "I swear it," she rejoined. "And you know my passionate nature too wellto doubt I will keep my word."

  "But you have the plague!"

  "What does that matter? I may recover."

  "Not so," muttered Disbrowe. "If I fall, I will take care you do notrecover. I will fight him to-morrow," he added aloud.

  He then summoned his servants, but when they found their mistress wasattacked by the plague, they framed some excuse to leave the room, andinstantly fled the house. Driven almost to his wits' end, Disbrowe wentin search of other assistance, and was for a while unsuccessful, until acoachman, to whom he applied, offered, for a suitable reward, to driveto Clerkenwell--to the shop of an apothecary named Sibbald (with whosename the reader is already familiar), who was noted for his treatment ofplague patients, and to bring him to the other's residence. Disbroweimmediately closed with the man, and in less than two hours Sibbald madehis appearance. He was a singular and repulsive personage, with animmense hooked nose, dark, savage-looking eyes, a skin like parchment,and high round shoulders, which procured him the nickname of Aesop amonghis neighbours. He was under the middle size, and of a spare figure, andin age might be about sixty-five.

  On seeing Mrs. Disbrowe, he at once boldly asserted that he could cureher, and proceeded to apply his remedies. Finding the servants fled, heoffered to procure a nurse for Disbrowe, and the latter, thanking him,eagerly embraced the offer. Soon after this he departed. In the eveningthe nurse, who (as may be surmised) was no other than Judith Malmayns,arrived, and immediately commenced her functions.

  Disbrowe had no rest that night. His wife slept occasionally for a fewminutes, but, apparently engrossed by one idea, never failed when sheawoke to urge him to slay Parravicin; repeating her oath to give herselfto the knight if he came off victorious. Worn out at length, Disbrowegave her a terrible look, and rushed out of the room.

  He had not been alone many minutes when he was surprised by the entranceof Judith. He eagerly inquired whether his wife was worse, but wasinformed she had dropped into a slumber.

  "Hearing what has passed between you," said the nurse, "and noticingyour look when you left the room, I came to tell you, that if you fallin this duel, your last moments need not be embittered by any thoughtsof your wife. I will take care she does not recover."

  A horrible smile lighted up Disbrowe's features.

  "You are the very person I want," he said. "When I would
do evil, thefiend rises to my bidding. If I am slain, you know what to do. How shallI requite the service?"

  "Do not concern yourself about that, captain," rejoined Judith. "I willtake care of myself."

  About noon, on the following day, Disbrowe, without venturing to see hiswife, left the house, and proceeded to the Smyrna, where, as heexpected, he found Parravicin and his companions.

  The knight instantly advanced towards him, and, laying aside for themoment his reckless air, inquired, with a look of commiseration, afterhis wife.

  "She is better," replied Disbrowe, fiercely. "I am come to settleaccounts with you."

  "I thought they were settled long ago," returned Parravicin, instantlyresuming his wonted manner. "But I am glad to find you consider the debtunpaid."

  Disbrowe lifted the cane he held in his hand, and struck the knight withit forcibly on the shoulder. "Be that my answer," he said.

  "I will have your life first, and your wife afterwards," repliedParravicin, furiously.

  "You shall have her if you slay me, but not otherwise," retortedDisbrowe. "It must be a mortal duel."

  "It must," replied Parravicin. "I will not spare you this time."

  "Spare him!" cried Pillichody. "Shield of Agamemnon! I should hope not.Spit him as you would a wild boar."

  "Peace, fool!" cried Parravicin. "Captain Disbrowe, I shall instantlyproceed to the west side of Hyde Park, beneath the trees. I shall expectyou there. On my return I shall call on your wife."

  "I pray you do so, sir," replied Disbrowe, disdainfully.

  Both then quitted the coffee-house, Parravicin attended by Rochester andPillichody, and Disbrowe accompanied by a military friend, whom heaccidentally encountered. Each party taking a coach, they soon reachedthe ground,--a retired spot, completely screened from observation bytrees. The preliminaries were soon arranged, for neither would admit ofdelay. The conflict then commenced with great fury on both sides; butParravicin, in spite of his passion, observed far more caution than hisantagonist; and, taking advantage of an unguarded movement, occasionedby the other's impetuosity, passed his sword through his body.

  Disbrowe fell.

  "You are again successful," he groaned, "but save my wife--save her."

  "What mean you?" cried Parravicin, leaning over him, as he wiped hissword.

  But Disbrowe could make no answer. His utterance was choked by a suddeneffusion of blood on the lungs, and he instantly expired. Leaving thebody in care of the second, Parravicin and his friends returned to thecoach, where the major rejoiced greatly at the issue of the duel; butthe knight looked grave, and pondered upon the words of the dying man.After a time, however, he recovered his spirits, and dined with hisfriends at the Smyrna; but they observed that he drank more deeply thanusual. His excesses did not, however, prevent him from playing with hisusual skill, and he won a large sum from Rochester at hazard.

  Flushed with success, and heated with wine, he walked up to Disbrowe'sresidence about an hour after midnight. As he approached the house, heobserved a strangely-shaped cart at the door, and, halting for a moment,saw a body, wrapped in a shroud, brought out. Could it be Mrs. Disbrowe?Rushing forward, to one of the assistants in black cloaks--and who wasno other than Chowles--he asked whom he was about to inter.

  "It is a Mrs. Disbrowe," replied the coffin-maker. "She died of grief,because her husband was killed this morning in a duel; but as she hadthe plague, it must be put down to that. We are not particular in suchmatters, and shall bury her and her husband together; and as there is nomoney left to pay for coffins, they must go to the grave without them.What, ho! Mother Malmayns, let Jonas have the captain as soon as youhave stripped him. I must be starting."

  And as the body of his victim was brought forth, Parravicin fell againstthe wall in a state almost of stupefaction.

  At this moment Solomon Eagle, with his brazier on his head, suddenlyturned the corner of the street, and stationing himself before thedead-cart, cried in a voice of thunder, "Woe to the libertine! woe tothe homicide! for he shall perish in everlasting fire! Woe! woe!"

 

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