The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “I should be afraid of playing such a trick as that,” replied Blaize.

  “Besides, I do not see what purpose it would answer.”

  “It would enable me to get into the house,” returned Bottesham, “and then I might take measures for Amabel’s deliverance.”

  “If you merely wish to get into the house,” replied Blaize, “that can be easily managed. I will admit you this evening.”

  “Without your master’s knowledge?” asked Bottesham, eagerly.

  “Of course,” returned Blaize.

  “But he has an apprentice?” said the doctor.

  “Oh! you mean Leonard Holt,” replied Blaize. “Yes, we must take care he doesn’t see you. If you come about nine o’clock, he will be engaged with my master in putting away the things in the shop.”

  “I will be punctual,” replied Bottesham, “and will bring Doctor Furbisher with me. We will only stay a few minutes. But here comes the burnt malmsey. Fill the young man’s glass, Parkhurst. I will insure you against the plague, if you will follow my advice.”

  “But will you insure me against my master’s displeasure, if he finds me out?” said Blaize.

  “I will provide you with a new one,” returned Bottesham. “You shall serve me if you wish to change your place.”

  “That would answer my purpose exactly,” thought Blaize. “I need never be afraid of the plague if I live with him. I will turn over your proposal, learned sir,” he added, aloud.

  After priming him with another bumper of malmsey, Blaise’s new friends suffered him to depart. On returning home, he proceeded to his own room, and feeling unusually drowsy, he threw himself on the bed, and almost instantly dropped asleep. When he awoke, the fumes of the liquor had, in a great degree, evaporated, and he recalled, with considerable self-reproach, the promise he had given, and would gladly have recalled it, if it had been possible. But it was now not far from the appointed hour, and he momentarily expected the arrival of the two doctors. The only thing that consoled him was the store of medicine he had obtained, and, locking it up in his cupboard, he descended to the kitchen. Fortunately, his mother was from home, so that he ran no risk from her; and, finding Patience alone, after some hesitation, he let her into the secret of his anticipated visitors. She was greatly surprised, and expressed much uneasiness lest they should be discovered; as, if they were so, it would be sure to bring them both into trouble.

  “What can they want with Mistress Amabel?” she cried. “I should not wonder if Doctor Calixtus Bottesham, as you call him, turns out a lover in disguise.”

  “A lover!” exclaimed Blaize. “Your silly head is always running upon lovers. He’s an old man — old enough to be your grandfather, with a long white beard, reaching to his waist. He a lover! Mr. Bloundel is much more like one.”

  “For all that, it looks suspicious,” returned Patience; “and I shall have my eyes about me on their arrival.”

  Shortly after this, Blaize crept cautiously up to the back yard, and, opening the door, found, as he expected, Bottesham and his companion. Motioning them to follow him, he led the way to the kitchen, where they arrived without observation. Patience eyed the new-comers narrowly, and felt almost certain, from their appearance and manner, that her suspicions were correct. All doubts were removed when Bottesham, slipping a purse into her hand, entreated her, on some plea or other, to induce Amabel to come into the kitchen. At first she hesitated; but having a tender heart, inclining her to assist rather than oppose the course of any love-affair, her scruples were soon overcome. Accordingly she hurried upstairs, and chancing to meet with her young mistress, who was about to retire to her own chamber, entreated her to come down with her for a moment in the kitchen. Thinking it some unimportant matter, but yet wondering why Patience should appear so urgent, Amabel complied. She was still more perplexed when she saw the two strangers, and would have instantly retired if Bottesham had not detained her.

  “You will pardon the liberty I have taken in sending for you,” he said, “when I explain that I have done so to offer you counsel.”

  “I am as much at a loss to understand what counsel you can have to offer, sir, as to guess why you are here,” she replied.

  “Amabel,” returned Bottesham, in a low tone, but altering his voice, and slightly raising his spectacles so as to disclose his features; “it is I — Maurice Wyvil.”

  “Ah!” she exclaimed, in the utmost astonishment.

  “I told you we should meet again,” he rejoined; “and I have kept my word.”

  “Think not to deceive me, my lord,” she returned, controlling her emotion by a powerful effort. “I am aware you are not Maurice Wyvil, but the Earl of Rochester. Your love is as false as your character. Mistress Mallet is the real object of your regards. You see I am acquainted with your perfidy.”

  “Amabel, you are deceived,” replied Rochester. “On my soul, you are. When I have an opportunity of explaining myself more fully, I will prove to you that I was induced by the king, for an especial purpose, to pay feigned addresses to the lady you have named. But I never loved her. You alone are the possessor of my heart, and shall be the sharer of my title. You shall be Countess of Rochester.”

  “Could I believe you?” she cried.

  “You may believe me,” he answered. “Do not blight my hopes and your own happiness a second time. Your father is about to shut up his house for a twelvemonth, if the plague lasts so long. This done, we shall meet no more, for access to you will be impossible. Do not hesitate, or you will for ever rue your irresolution.”

  “I know not what to do,” cried Amabel, distractedly.

  “Then I will decide for you,” replied the earl, grasping her hand.

  “Come!”

  While this was passing, Furbisher, or rather, as will be surmised, Pillichody, had taken Blaize aside, and engaged his attention by dilating upon the efficacy of a roasted onion filled with treacle in the expulsion of the plague. Patience stationed herself near the door, not with a view of interfering with the lovers, but rather of assisting them; and at the very moment that the earl seized his mistress’s hand, and would have drawn her forward, she ran towards them, and hastily whispered, “Leonard Holt is coming downstairs.”

  “Ah! I am lost!” cried Amabel.

  “Fear nothing,” said the earl. “Keep near me, and I will soon dispose of him.”

  As he spoke, the apprentice entered the kitchen, and, greatly surprised by the appearance of the strangers, angrily demanded from Blaize who they were.

  “They are two doctors come to give me advice respecting the plague,” stammered the porter.

  “How did they get into the house?” inquired Leonard.

  “I let them in through the back door,” replied Blaize.

  “Then let them out by the same way,” rejoined the apprentice. “May I ask what you are doing here?” he added, to Amabel.

  “What is that to you, fellow?” cried Rochester, in his assumed voice.

  “Much, as you shall find, my lord,” replied the apprentice; “for, in spite of your disguise, I know you. Quit the house instantly with your companion, or I will give the alarm, and Amabel well knows what the consequences will be.”

  “You must go, my lord,” she replied.

  “I will not stir unless you accompany me,” said Rochester.

  “Then I have no alternative,” rejoined Leonard. “You know your father’s determination — I would willingly spare you, Amabel.”

  “Oh, goodness! what will become of us?” cried Patience— “if there isn’t Mr. Bloundel coming downstairs.”

  “Amabel,” said Leonard, sternly, “the next moment decides your fate. If the earl departs, I will keep your secret.”

  “You hear that, my lord,” she cried; “I command you to leave me.”

  And disengaging herself from him, and hastily passing her father, who at that moment entered the kitchen, she rushed upstairs.

  On hearing the alarm of the grocer’s approach, Pillichody took refu
ge in a cupboard, the door of which stood invitingly open, so that Bloundel only perceived the earl.

  “What is the matter?” he cried, gazing around him. “Whom have we here?”

  “It is a quack doctor, whom Blaize has been consulting about the plague,” returned Leonard.

  “See him instantly out of the house,” rejoined the grocer, angrily, “and take care he never enters it again. I will have no such charlatans here.”

  Leonard motioned Rochester to follow him, and the latter reluctantly obeyed.

  As soon as Bloundel had retired, Leonard, who had meanwhile provided himself with his cudgel, descended to the kitchen, where he dragged Pillichody from his hiding-place, and conducted him to the back door. But he did not suffer him to depart without belabouring him soundly. Locking the door, he then went in search of Blaize, and administered a similar chastisement to him.

  IV.

  THE TWO WATCHMEN.

  On the day following the events last related, as Leonard Holt was standing at the door of the shop, — his master having just been called out by some important business, — a man in the dress of a watchman, with a halberd in his hand, approached him, and inquired if he was Mr. Bloundel’s apprentice.

  Before returning an answer, Leonard looked hard at the newcomer, and thought he had never beheld so ill-favoured a person before. Every feature in his face was distorted. His mouth was twisted on one side, his nose on the other, while his right eyebrow was elevated more than an inch above the left; added to which he squinted intolerably, had a long fell of straight sandy hair, a sandy beard and moustache, and a complexion of the colour of brickdust.

  “An ugly dog,” muttered Leonard to himself, as he finished his scrutiny; “what can he want with me? Suppose I should be Mr. Bloundel’s apprentice,” he added, aloud, “what then, friend?”

  “Your master has a beautiful daughter, has he not?” asked the ill-favoured watchman.

  “I answer no idle questions,” rejoined Leonard, coldly.

  “As you please,” returned the other, in an offended tone. “A plan to carry her off has accidentally come to my knowledge. But, since incivility is all I am likely to get for my pains in coming to acquaint you with it, e’en find it out yourself.”

  “Hold!” cried the apprentice, detaining him; “I meant no offence. Step indoors for a moment. We can converse there more freely.”

  The watchman, who, notwithstanding his ill-looks, appeared to be a good-natured fellow, was easily appeased. Following the apprentice into the shop, on the promise of a handsome reward, he instantly commenced his relation.

  “Last night,” he said, “I was keeping watch at the door of Mr. Brackley, a saddler in Aldermanbury, whose house having been attacked by the pestilence is now shut up, when I observed two persons, rather singularly attired, pass me. Both were dressed like old men, but neither their gait nor tone of voice corresponded with their garb.”

  “It must have been the Earl of Rochester and his companion,” remarked

  Leonard.

  “You are right,” replied the other; “for I afterwards heard one of them addressed by that title. But to proceed. I was so much struck by the strangeness of their appearance, that I left my post for a few minutes, and followed them. They halted beneath a gateway, and, as they conversed together very earnestly, and in a loud tone, I could distinctly hear what they said. One of them, the stoutest of the two, complained bitterly of the indignities he had received from Mr. Bloundel’s apprentice (meaning you, of course), averring that nothing but his devotion to his companion had induced him to submit to them; and affirming, with many tremendous oaths, that he would certainly cut the young man’s throat the very first opportunity.”

  “He shall not want it then,” replied Leonard contemptuously; “neither shall he lack a second application of my cudgel when we meet. But what of his companion? What did he say?”

  “He laughed heartily at the other’s complaints,” returned the watchman, “and told him to make himself easy, for he should soon have his revenge. ‘To-morrow night,’ he said, ‘we will carry off Amabel, in spite of the apprentice or her father; and, as I am equally indebted with yourself to the latter, we will pay off old scores with him.’”

  “How do they intend to effect their purpose?” demanded Leonard.

  “That I cannot precisely tell,” replied the watchman. “All I could hear was, that they meant to enter the house by the back yard about midnight. And now, if you will make it worth my while, I will help you to catch them in their own trap.”

  “Hum!” said Leonard. “What is your name?”

  “Gregory Swindlehurst,” replied the other.

  “To help me, you must keep watch with me to-night,” rejoined Leonard.

  “Can you do so?”

  “I see nothing to hinder me, provided I am paid for my trouble,” replied Gregory. “I will find some one to take my place at Mr. Brackley’s. At what hour shall I come?”

  “Soon after ten,” said Leonard. “Be at the shop-door, and I will let you in.”

  “Count upon me,” rejoined Gregory, a smile of satisfaction illumining his ill-favoured countenance. “Shall I bring a comrade with me? I know a trusty fellow who would like the job. If Lord Rochester should have his companions with him, assistance will be required.”

  “True,” replied Leonard. “Is your comrade a watchman, like yourself?”

  “He is an old soldier, who has been lately employed to keep guard over infected houses,” replied Gregory. “We must take care his lordship does not overreach us.”

  “If he gets into the house without my knowledge, I will forgive him,” replied the apprentice.

  “He won’t get into it without mine,” muttered Gregory, significantly.

  “But do you not mean to warn Mistress Amabel of her danger?”

  “I shall consider of it,” replied the apprentice.

  At this moment Mr. Bloundel entered the shop, and Leonard, feigning to supply his companion with a small packet of grocery, desired him, in a low tone, to be punctual to his appointment, and dismissed him. In justice to the apprentice, it must be stated that he had no wish for concealment, but was most anxious to acquaint his master with the information he had just obtained, and was only deterred from doing so by a dread of the consequences it might produce to Amabel.

  The evening passed off much as usual. The family assembled at prayer; and. Blaize, whose shoulders still ached with the chastisement he had received, eyed the apprentice with sullen and revengeful looks. Patience, too, was equally angry, and her indignation was evinced in a manner so droll, that at another season it would have drawn a smile from Leonard.

  Supper over, Amabel left the room. Leonard followed her, and overtook her on the landing of the stairs.

  “Amabel,” he said, “I have received certain intelligence that the Earl of Rochester will make another attempt to enter the house, and carry you off to-night.”

  “Oh! when will he cease from persecuting me?” she cried.

  “When you cease to encourage him,” replied the apprentice, bitterly.

  “I do not encourage him, Leonard,” she rejoined, “and to prove that I do not, I will act in any way you think proper tonight.”

  “If I could trust you,” said Leonard, you might be of the greatest service in convincing the earl that his efforts are fruitless.”

  “You may trust me,” she rejoined.

  “Well, then,” returned Leonard, “when the family have retired to rest, come downstairs, and I will tell you what to do.”

  Hastily promising compliance, Amabel disappeared; and Leonard ran down the stairs, at the foot of which he encountered Mrs. Bloundel.

  “What is the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing — nothing,” replied the apprentice, evasively.

  “That-will not serve my turn,” she rejoined. “Something, I am certain, troubles you, though you do not choose to confess it. Heaven grant your anxiety is not occasioned by aught relating to that wicked
Earl of Rochester! I cannot sleep in my bed for thinking of him. I noticed that you followed Amabel out of the room. I hope you do not suspect anything.”

  “Do not question me further, madam, I entreat,” returned the apprentice. “Whatever I may suspect, I have taken all needful precautions. Rest easy, and sleep soundly, if you can. All will go well.”

  “I shall never rest easy, Leonard,” rejoined Mrs. Bloundel, “till you are wedded to my daughter. Then, indeed, I shall feel happy. My poor child, I am sure, is fully aware how indiscreet her conduct has been; and when this noble libertine desists from annoying her — or rather, when he is effectually shut out — we may hope for a return of her regard for you.”

  “It is a vain hope, madam,” replied Leonard; “there will be no such return. I neither expect it nor desire it.”

  “Have you ceased to love her?” asked Mrs. Bloundel, in surprise.

  “Ceased to love her!” echoed Leonard, fiercely. “Would I had done so! — would I could do so! I love her too well — too well.”

  And repeating the words to himself with great bitterness, he hurried away.

  “His passion has disturbed his brain,” sighed Mrs. Bloundel, as she proceeded to her chamber. “I must try to reason him into calmness to-morrow.”

  Half an hour after this, the grocer retired for the night; and Leonard, who had gone to his own room, cautiously opened the door, and repaired to the shop. On the way he met Amabel. She looked pale as death, and trembled so violently, that she could scarcely support herself.

  “I hope you do not mean to use any violence towards the earl, Leonard?” she said in a supplicating voice.

  “He will never repeat his visit,” rejoined the apprentice, gloomily.

  “Your looks terrify me,” cried Amabel, gazing with great uneasiness at his stern and determined countenance. “I will remain by you. He will depart at my bidding.”

  “Did he depart at your bidding before?” demanded Leonard, sarcastically.

  “He did not, I grant,” she replied, more supplicatingly than before. “But do not harm him — for mercy’s sake, do not — take my life sooner. I alone have offended you.”