The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “I can lend you a little money,” said Patience. “I haven’t touched my last year’s wages. They are quite at your service.”

  “You are too good,” replied Blaize; “but I won’t decline the offer. I heard a man crying a new anti-pestilential elixir, as he passed the house yesterday. I must find him out and buy a bottle. Besides, I must call on my friend Parkhurst, the apothecary. — You are a good girl, Patience, and I’ll marry you as soon as the plague ceases.”

  “I have something else to give you,” rejoined Patience. “This little bag contains a hazel-nut, from which I have picked the kernel, and filled its place with quicksilver, stopping the hole with wax. Wear it round your neck, and you will find it a certain preservative against the pestilence.”

  “Who told you of this remedy?” asked Blaize, taking the bag.

  “Your mother,” returned Patience.

  “I wonder I never heard of it,” said the porter.

  “She wouldn’t mention it to you, because the doctor advised her not to put such matters into your head,” replied Patience. “But I couldn’t help indulging you. Heigho! I hope the plague will soon be over.”

  “It won’t be over for six months,” rejoined Blaize, shaking his head. “I read in a little book, published in 1593, in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, and written by Simon Kelway, ‘that when little children flock together, and pretend that some of their number are dead, solemnizing the burial in a mournful sort, it is a certain token that a great mortality is at hand.’ This I have myself seen more than once. Again, just before the great sickness of 1625, the churchyard wall of St. Andrew’s, Holborn, fell down. I need not tell you that the same thing occurred after the frost this winter.”

  “I heard of it,” replied Patience: “but I did not know it was a bad sign.”

  “It is a dreadful sign,” returned Blaize, with a shudder “The thought of it brings back my old symptoms. I must have a supper to guard against infection — a slice of toasted bread, sprinkled with, vinegar, and powdered with nutmeg.”

  And chattering thus, they proceeded to the kitchen.

  Before supper could be served, Dr. Hodges made his appearance. He was delighted to see the family assembled together again, and expressed a hearty wish that they might never more be divided. He watched Amabel and Leonard carefully, and seemed annoyed that the former rather shunned than favoured the regards of the apprentice.

  Leonard, too, looked disconcerted; and though he was in possession of his mistress’s promise, he did not like to reclaim it. During the whole of the month, he had been constantly on the watch, and had scarcely slept at night, so anxious was he to prevent the possibility of any communication taking place between Rochester and his mistress. But, in spite of all his caution, it was possible he might be deceived. And when on this, their first meeting, she returned his anxious gaze with averted looks, he felt all his jealous misgivings return.

  Supper, meanwhile, proceeded. Doctor Hodges was in excellent spirits, and drank a bottle of old sack with great relish. Overcome by the sight of his wife and children, the grocer abandoned himself to his feelings. As to his wife, she could scarcely contain herself, but wept and laughed by turns — now embracing her husband, now her son, between whom she had placed herself. Nor did she forget Doctor Hodges; and such was the exuberance of her satisfaction, that when the repast was ended, she arose, and, flinging her arms about his neck, termed him the preserver of her son.

  “If any one is entitled to that appellation it is his father,” replied Hodges, “and I may say, that in all my experience I have never witnessed such generous self-devotion as Mr. Bloundel has exhibited towards his son. You must now be satisfied, madam, that no person can so well judge what is proper for the safety of his family as your husband.”

  “I never doubted it, sir,” replied Mrs. Bloundel.

  “I must apprise you, then, that he has conceived a plan by which he trusts to secure you and his children and household from any future attack,” returned Hodges.

  “I care not what it is, so it does not separate me from him,” replied

  Mrs. Bloundel.

  “It does not,” replied the grocer. “It will knit us more closely together than we have yet been. I mean to shut up my house, having previously stored it with provisions for a twelvemonth, and shall suffer no member of my family to stir forth as long as the plague endures.”

  “I am ready to remain within doors, if it continues twenty years,” replied his wife. “But how long do you think it will last, doctor?”

  “Till next December, I have no doubt,” returned Hodges.

  “So long?” exclaimed Amabel.

  “Ay, so long,” repeated the doctor. “It has scarcely begun now. Your father is right to adopt these precautions. It is the only way to insure the safety of his family.”

  “But — —” cried Amabel.

  “I am resolved,” interrupted Bloundel, peremptorily. “Who ever leaves the house — if but for a moment — never returns.”

  “And when do you close it, father?” asked Amabel.

  “A week hence,” replied the grocer; “as soon as I have laid in a sufficient stock of provisions.”

  “And am I not to leave the house for a year?” cried Amabel, with a dissatisfied look.

  “Why should you wish to leave it?” asked her father, curiously.

  “Ay, why?” repeated Leonard, in a low tone. “I shall be here.”

  Amabel seemed confused, and looked from her father to Leonard. The former, however, did not notice her embarrassment, but observed to Hodges— “I shall begin to victual the house to-morrow.”

  “Amabel,” whispered Leonard, “you told me if I claimed your hand in a month, you would yield it to me. I require the fulfilment of your promise.”

  “Give me till to-morrow,” she replied, distractedly.

  “She has seen Rochester,” muttered the apprentice, turning away.

  II.

  IN WHAT MANNER THE GROCER VICTUALLED HIS HOUSE.

  Leonard Holt was wrong in his suspicions. Amabel had neither seen nor heard from Rochester. But, if the truth must be told, he was never out of her mind, and she found, to her cost, that the heart will not be controlled. Convinced of her noble lover’s perfidy, and aware she was acting wrongfully in cherishing a passion for him, after the exposure of his base designs towards herself, no reasoning of which she was capable could banish him from her thoughts, or enable her to transfer her affections to the apprentice.

  This conflict of feeling produced its natural result. She became thoughtful and dejected — was often in tears — had no appetite — and could scarcely rouse herself sufficiently to undertake any sort of employment. Her mother watched her with great anxiety, and feared — though she sought to disguise it from herself — what was the real cause of her despondency.

  Things were in this position at the end of the month, and it occasioned no surprise to Mrs. Bloundel, though it afflicted her deeply, to find that Amabel sedulously avoided the apprentice’s regards on their first meeting. When Doctor Hodges was gone, and the rest of the family had retired, she remarked to her husband, “Before you shut up the house as you propose, I should, wish one important matter settled.”

  The grocer inquired what she meant.

  “I should wish to have Amabel married,” was the answer.

  “Married!” exclaimed Bloundel, in astonishment. “To whom?”

  “To Leonard Holt.”

  Bloundel could scarcely repress his displeasure.

  “It will be time enough to talk of that a year hence,” he answered.

  “I don’t think so,” returned his wife; “and now, since the proper time for the disclosure of the secret has arrived, I must tell you that the gallant who called himself Maurice Wyvil, and whom you so much dreaded, was no other than the Earl of Rochester.”

  “Rochester!” echoed the grocer, while an angry flush stained his cheek; “has that libertine dared to enter my house?”

  “Ay, and more than o
nce,” replied Mrs. Bloundel.

  “Indeed!” cried her husband, with difficulty controlling his indignation. “When was he here? — tell me quickly.”

  His wife then proceeded to relate all that had occurred, and he listened with profound attention to her recital. At its close, he arose and paced the chamber for some time in great agitation.

  At length he suddenly paused, and, regarding his wife with great sternness, observed, in a severe tone, “You have done very wrong in concealing this from me, Honora — very wrong.”

  “If I have erred, it was to spare you uneasiness,” returned Mrs. Bloundel, bursting into tears. “Doctor Hodges agreed with me that it was better not to mention the subject while you had so many other anxieties pressing upon you.”

  “I have a stout heart, and a firm reliance on the goodness of Heaven, which will enable me to bear up against most evils,” returned the grocer. “But on this point I ought, under any circumstances, to have been consulted. And I am greatly surprised that Doctor Hodges should advise the contrary.”

  “He was influenced, like myself, by the kindliest feelings towards you,” sobbed Mrs. Bloundel.

  “Well, well, I will not reproach you further,” returned the grocer, somewhat moved by her tears. “I have no doubt you conceived you were acting for the best. But I must caution you against such conduct for the future.” After a pause, he added, “Is it your opinion that our poor deluded child still entertains any regard for this profligate nobleman?”

  “I am sure she does,” replied Mrs. Bloundel; “and it is from that conviction that I so strongly urge the necessity of marrying her to Leonard Holt.”

  “I will never compel her to do anything to endanger her future happiness,” returned the grocer. “She must not marry Leonard Holt without loving him. It is better to risk an uncertain evil, than to rush upon a certain one.”

  “Then I won’t answer for the consequences,” replied his wife.

  “What!” cried Bloundel; “am I to understand you have no reliance on

  Amabel? Has all our care been thrown away?”

  “I do not distrust her,” returned Mrs. Bloundel; “but consider whom she has to deal with. She is beset by the handsomest and most fascinating man of the day — by one understood to be practised in all the arts most dangerous to our sex — and a nobleman to boot. Some allowance must be made for her.”

  “I will make none,” rejoined Bloundel, austerely. “She has been taught to resist temptation in whatever guise it may present itself; and if the principles I have endeavoured to implant within her breast had found lodgment there, she would have resisted it. I am deeply grieved to find this is not the case, and that she must trust to others for protection, when she ought to be able to defend herself.”

  The subject was not further discussed, and the grocer and his wife shortly afterwards retired to rest.

  On the following morning, Bloundel remarked to the apprentice as they stood together in the shop, “Leonard, you are aware I am about to shut up my house. Before doing so, I must make certain needful arrangements. I will not disguise from you that I should prefer your remaining with me, but at the same time I beg you distinctly to understand that I will not detain you against your will. Your articles are within two months of expiring; and, if you desire it, I will deliver them to you to-morrow, and release you from the rest of your time.”

  “I do not desire it, sir,” replied Leonard; “I will remain as long as I can be serviceable to you.”

  “Take time for reflection,” rejoined his master, kindly. “In all probability, it will be a long confinement, and you may repent, when too late, having subjected yourself to it.”

  “Last month’s experience has taught me what I have to expect,” remarked

  Leonard, with a smile. “My mind is made up, I will stay with you.”

  “I am glad of it,” returned Bloundel, “and now I have something further to say to you. My wife has acquainted me with the daring attempt of the Earl of Rochester to carry off Amabel.”

  “Has my mistress, also, told you of my attachment to your daughter?” demanded Leonard, trembling, in spite of his efforts to maintain a show of calmness.

  Bloundel nodded an affirmative.

  “And of Amabel’s promise to bestow her hand upon me, if I claimed it at the month’s end?” continued the apprentice.

  “No!” replied the grocer, a good deal surprised— “I heard of no such promise. Nor was I aware the matter had gone so far. But have you claimed it?”

  “I have,” replied Leonard; “but she declined giving an answer till to-day.”

  “We will have it, then, at once,” cried Bloundel “Come with me to her.”

  So saying, he led the way to the inner room, where they found Amabel and her mother. At the sight of Leonard, the former instantly cast down her eyes.

  “Amabel,” said her father, in a tone of greater severity than he had ever before used towards her, “all that has passed is known to me. I shall take another and more fitting opportunity to speak to you on your ill-advised conduct. I am come for a different purpose. You have given Leonard Holt a promise (I need not tell you of what nature), and he claims its fulfilment.”

  “If he insists upon my compliance,” replied Amabel, in a tremulous voice, “I must obey. But it will make me wretched.”

  “Then I at once release you,” replied Leonard. “I value your happiness far more than my own.”

  “You deserve better treatment, Leonard,” said Bloundel; “and I am sorry my daughter cannot discern what is for her good. Let us hope that time will work a change in your favour.”

  “No,” replied the apprentice, bitterly; “I will no longer delude myself with any such vain expectation.”

  “Amabel,” observed the grocer, “as your father — as your wellwisher — I should desire to see you wedded to Leonard. But I have told your mother, and now tell you, that I will not control your inclinations, and will only attempt to direct you so far as I think likely to be conducive to your happiness. On another point, I must assume a very different tone. You can no longer plead ignorance of the designs of the depraved person who besets you. You may not be able to forget him — but you can avoid him. If you see him alone again — if but for a moment — I cast you off for ever. Yes, for ever,” he repeated, with stern emphasis.

  “I will never voluntarily see him again,” replied Amabel, tremblingly.

  “You have heard my determination,” rejoined her father. “Do you still adhere to your resolution of remaining with me, Leonard?” he added, turning to the apprentice. “If what has just passed makes any alteration in your wishes, state so, frankly.”

  “I will stay,” replied Leonard.

  “There will be one advantage, which I did not foresee, in closing my house,” remarked the grocer aside to the apprentice. “It will effectually keep away this libertine earl.”

  “Perhaps so,” replied the other. “But I have more faith in my own vigilance than in bolts and bars.”

  Bloundel and Leonard then returned to the shop, where the former immediately began to make preparations for storing his house; and in the prosecution of his scheme he was greatly aided by the apprentice.

  The grocer’s dwelling, as has been stated, was large and commodious. It was three stories high; and beneath the ground-floor there were kitchens and extensive cellars. Many of the rooms were spacious, and had curiously carved fireplaces, walls pannelled with fine brown oak, large presses, and cupboards.

  In the yard, at the back of the house, there was a pump, from which excellent water was obtained. There were likewise three large cisterns, supplied from the New River. Not satisfied with this, and anxious to obtain water in which no infected body could have lain, or clothes have been washed, Bloundel had a large tank placed within the cellar, and connecting it by pipes with the pump, he contrived an ingenious machine, by which he could work the latter from within the house — thus making sure of a constant supply of water direct from the spring.

>   He next addressed himself to the front of the house, where he fixed a pulley, with a rope and hook attached to it, to the beam above one of the smaller bay windows on the second story. By this means, he could let down a basket or any other article into the street, or draw up whatever he desired; and as he proposed using this outlet as the sole means of communication with the external world when his house was closed, he had a wooden shutter made in the form of a trap-door, which he could open and shut at pleasure.

  Here it was his intention to station himself at certain hours of the day, and whenever he held any communication below, to flash off a pistol, so that the smoke of the powder might drive back the air, and purify any vapour that found entrance of its noxious particles.

  He laid down to himself a number of regulations, which will be more easily shown and more clearly understood, on arriving at the period when his plans came to be in full operation. To give an instance, however — if a letter should be conveyed to him by means of the pulley, he proposed to steep it in a solution of vinegar and sulphur; and when dried and otherwise fumigated, to read it at a distance by the help of strong glasses.

  In regard to provisions, after a careful calculation, he bought upwards of three thousand pounds’ weight of hard sea-biscuits, similar to those now termed captain’s biscuits, and had them stowed away in hogsheads. He next ordered twenty huge casks of the finest flour, which he had packed up with the greatest care, as if for a voyage to Barbadoes or Jamaica. As these were brought in through the yard an accident had well-nigh occurred which might have proved fatal to him. While superintending the labours of Leonard and Blaize, who were rolling the casks into the house — having stowed away as many as he conveniently could in the upper part of the premises — he descended to the cellar, and, opening a door at the foot of a flight of steps leading from the yard, called to them to lower the remaining barrels with ropes below. In the hurry, Blaize rolled a cask towards the open door, and in another instant it would have fallen upon the grocer, and perhaps have crushed him, but for the interposition of Leonard. Bloundel made no remark at the time; but he never forgot the service rendered him by the apprentice.