The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “No one will watch over me,” returned Leonard. “My master has dismissed me from his service, and I have no other friend left. If you will tell one of the vergers what is the matter with me, he will summon the Examiner of Health, who will bring a litter to convey me to the pest-house.”

  “If you go thither your fate is sealed,” replied Nizza.

  “I have said I do not desire to live,” returned the apprentice.

  “Do not indulge in these gloomy thoughts, or you are certain to bring about a fatal result,” said Nizza. “Would I knew how to aid you! But I still hope you are deceived as to the nature of your attack.”

  “I cannot be deceived,” replied Leonard, whose countenance proclaimed the anguish he endured. “Doctor Hodges, I think, is interested about me,” he continued, describing the physician’s residence— “if you will inform him of my seizure, he may, perhaps, come to me.”

  “I will fly to him instantly,” replied Nizza; and she was about to quit the chapel, when she was stopped by Parravicin and his companions.

  “Let me pass,” she said, trying to force her way through them.

  “Not so fast, fair Nizza,” rejoined Parravicin, forcing her back, “I must have a few words with you. Have I overrated her charms?” he added to Rochester. “Is she not surpassingly beautiful?”

  “In good sooth she is,” replied the earl, gazing at her with admiration.

  “By the nut-brown skin of Cleopatra!” cried Pillichody, “she beats Mrs.

  Disbrowe, Sir Paul.”

  “I have never seen any one so lovely,” said the knight, attempting to press her hand to his lips.

  “Release me, sir,” cried Nizza, struggling to free herself.

  “Not till I have told you how much I love you,” returned the knight, ardently.

  “Love me!” she echoed, scornfully.

  “Yes, love you,” reiterated Parravicin. “It would be strange if I, who profess myself so great an admirer of beauty, did otherwise. I am passionately enamoured of you. If you will accompany me, fair Nizza, you shall change your humble garb for the richest attire that gold can purchase, shall dwell in a magnificent mansion, and have troops of servants at your command. In short, my whole fortune, together with myself, shall be placed at your disposal.”

  “Do not listen to him, Nizza,” cried Leonard Holt, in a faint voice.

  “Be assured I will not,” she answered. “Your insulting proposal only heightens the disgust I at first conceived for you,” she added to the knight: “I reject it with scorn, and command you to let me pass.”

  “Nay, if you put on these airs, sweetheart,” replied Parravicin, insolently, “I must alter my tone likewise. I am not accustomed to play the humble suitor to persons of your condition.”

  “Perhaps not,” replied Nizza; “neither am I accustomed to this unwarrantable usage. Let me go. My errand is one of life and death. Do not hinder me, or you will have a heavy crime on your soul — heavier, it may be, than any that now loads it.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Parravicin, struck by her earnest manner.

  “To fetch assistance,” she replied, “for one suddenly assailed by the pestilence.”

  “Ah!” exclaimed the knight, trembling, and relinquishing his grasp. “My path is ever crossed by that hideous spectre. Is it your father who is thus attacked?”

  “No,” she replied, pointing to Leonard, “it is that youth.”

  “The apprentice!” exclaimed Rochester. “I am sorry for him. Let us be gone,” he added to his companions. “It may be dangerous to remain here longer.”

  With this they all departed except Parravicin.

  “Come with us, Nizza,” said the latter; “we will send assistance to the sufferer.”

  “I have already told you my determination,” she rejoined; “I will not stir a footstep with you. And if you have any compassion in your nature, you will not detain me longer.”

  “I will not leave you here to certain destruction,” said the knight.

  “You shall come with me whether you will or not.”

  And as he spoke, he advanced towards her, while she retreated towards Leonard, who, rising with difficulty, placed himself between her and her persecutor.

  “If you advance another footstep,” cried the apprentice, “I will fling myself upon you, and the contact may be fatal.”

  Parravicin gazed, furiously at him, and half unsheathed his sword. But the next moment he returned it to the scabbard, and exclaiming, “Another time! another time!” darted after his companions.

  He was scarcely gone, when Leonard reeled against the wall, and before

  Nizza could catch him, fell in a state of insensibility on the floor.

  After vainly attempting to raise him, Nizza flew for assistance, and had just passed through the door of the chapel, when she met Judith Malmayns and Chowles. She instantly stopped them, and acquainting them with the apprentice’s condition, implored them to take charge of him while she went in search of Doctor Hodges.

  “Before you go,” said Judith, “let me make sure that he is attacked by the plague. It may be some other disorder.”

  “I hope so, indeed,” said Nizza, pausing; “but I fear the contrary.”

  So saying, she returned with them to the chapel. Raising the apprentice with the greatest ease, Judith tore open his doublet.

  “Your suspicion is correct,” she said, with a malignant smile. “Here is the fatal sign upon his breast.”

  “I will fetch Doctor Hodges instantly,” cried Nizza.

  “Do so,” replied Judith; “we will convey him to the vaults in Saint Faith’s, where poor Mr. Quatremain has just been taken. He will be better there than in the pest-house.”

  “Anything is better than that,” said Nizza, shuddering.

  As soon as she was gone, Chowles took off his long black cloak, and, throwing it over the apprentice, laid him at full length upon the bench, and, assisted by Judith, carried him towards the choir. As they proceeded, Chowles called out, “Make way for one sick of the plague!” and the crowd instantly divided, and gave them free passage. In this way they descended to Saint Faith’s, and, shaping their course to the vault, deposited their burden on the very bed lately occupied by the unfortunate sexton.

  “He has come here to die,” observed Judith to her companion. “His attack is but a slight one, and he might with care recover. But I can bargain with the Earl of Rochester for his removal.”

  “Take heed how you make such a proposal to his lordship,” returned

  Chowles. “From what I have seen, he is likely to, revolt at it.”

  “Every man is glad to get rid of a rival,” rejoined Judith.

  “Granted,” replied Chowles; “but no man will pay for the riddance when the plague will accomplish it for him for nothing.”

  “With due attention, I would answer for that youth’s recovery,” said

  Judith. “It is not an incurable case, like Mr. Quatremain’s. And so

  Doctor Hodges, when he comes, will pronounce it.”

  Shortly after this, Nizza Macaseree appeared with a countenance fraught with anxiety, and informed them that Doctor Hodges was from home, and would not probably return till late at night.

  “That’s unfortunate,” said Judith. “Luckily, however, there are other doctors in London, and some who understand the treatment of the plague far better than he does — Sibbald, the apothecary of Clerkenwell, for instance.”

  “Do you think Sibbald would attend him?” asked Nizza, eagerly.

  “To be sure he would,” replied Mrs. Malmayns, “if he were paid for it. But you seem greatly interested about this youth. I have been young, and know what effect good looks and a manly deportment have upon our sex. He has won your heart! Ha! ha! You need not seek to disguise it. Your blushes answer for you.”

  “A truce to this,” cried Nizza, whose cheeks glowed with shame and anger.

  “You can answer a plain question, I suppose,” returned Judith. “Is his life dea
r to you?”

  “Dearer than my own?” replied Nizza.

  “I thought as much,” returned Judith. “What will you give me to save him?”

  “I have nothing,” rejoined Nizza, with a troubled look— “nothing but thanks to give you.”

  “Think again,” said Judith. “Girls like you, if they have no money, have generally some trinket — some valuable in their possession.”

  “That is not my case,” said Nizza, bursting into tears. “I never received a present in my life, and never desired one till now.”

  “But your father must have some money?” said Judith, inquisitively.

  “I know not,” replied Nizza, “but I will ask him. What sum will content you?”

  “Bring all you can,” returned Judith, “and I will do my best.”

  Nizza then departed, while Judith, with the assistance of Chowles, covered Leonard with blankets, and proceeded to light a fire. Long before this, the sick youth was restored to animation. But he was quite light-headed and unconscious of his situation, and rambled about Amabel and her father. After administering such remedies as she thought fit, and as were at hand, Judith sat down with the coffin-maker beside a small table, and entered into conversation with him.

  “Well,” said Chowles, in an indifferent tone, as he poured out a glass of brandy, “is it to be kill or cure?”

  “I have not decided,” replied Judith, pledging him.

  “I still do not see what gain there would be in shortening his career,” observed Chowles.

  “If there would be no gain, there would be gratification,” replied

  Judith. “He has offended me.”

  “If that is the case, I have nothing further to say,” returned Chowles.

  “But you promised the piper’s daughter to save him.”

  “We shall see what she offers,” rejoined Judith; “all will depend upon that.”

  “It is extraordinary,” observed Chowles, after a pause, “that while all around us are sick or dying of the pestilence, we should escape contagion.”

  “We are not afraid of it,” replied Judith. “Besides, we are part of the plague ourselves. But I have been attacked, and am, therefore, safe.”

  “True,” replied Chowles; “I had forgotten that. Well, if I fall ill, you

  Sha’n’t nurse me.”

  “You won’t be able to help yourself then,” returned Judith.

  “Eh!” exclaimed Chowles, shifting uneasily on his seat.

  “Don’t be afraid,” returned Judith, laughing at his alarm. “I’ll take every care of you. We are necessary to each other.”

  “So we are,” replied Chowles; “so we are; and if nothing else could, that consideration would make us true to each other.”

  “Of course,” assented Judith. “Let us reap as rich a harvest as we can, and when the scourge is over, we can enjoy ourselves upon the spoils.”

  “Exactly so,” replied Chowles. “My business is daily-hourly on the increase. My men are incessantly employed, and my only fear is that an order will be issued to bury the dead without coffins.”

  “Not unlikely,” replied Mrs. Malmayns. “But there are plenty of ways of getting money in a season like this. If one fails, we must resort to another. I shall make all I can, and in the shortest manner.”

  “Right!” cried Chowles, with, an atrocious laugh. “Right! ha! ha!”

  “I have found out a means of propagating the distemper,” pursued Judith, in a low tone, and with a mysterious air, “of inoculating whomsoever I please with the plague-venom. I have tried the experiment on Mr. Quatremain and that youth, and you see how well it has answered in both instances.”

  “I do,” replied Chowles, looking askance at her. “But why destroy the poor minor canon?”

  “Because I want to get hold of the treasure discovered by the help of the Mosaical rods in Saint Faith’s, which by right belonged to my husband, and which is now in Mr. Quatremain’s possession,” replied Judith.

  “I understand,” nodded Chowles.

  While they were thus conversing, Nizza Macascree again returned, and informed them that she could not find her father. “He has left the cathedral,” she said, “and will not, probably, return till nightfall.”

  “I am sorry for it, on your account,” observed Judith, coldly.

  “Why, you will not have the cruelty to neglect the poor young man till then — you will take proper precautions?” exclaimed Nizza.

  “Why should I exert myself for one about whose recovery I am indifferent?” said Judith.

  “Why?” exclaimed Nizza. “But it is in vain to argue with you. I must appeal to your avarice, since you are deaf to the pleadings of humanity. I have just bethought me that I have an old gold coin, which was given me years ago by my father. He told me it had been my mother’s, and charged me not to part with it. I never should have done so, except in an emergency like the present.”

  As she spoke, she drew from her bosom a broad gold piece. A hole was bored through it, and it was suspended from her neck by a chain of twisted hair.

  “Let me look at it,” said Judith taking the coin. “Who gave you this?” she asked, in an altered tone.

  “My father?” replied Nizza; “I have just told you so. It was my mother’s.”

  “Impossible!” exclaimed Judith!

  “Have you ever seen it before?” inquired Nizza, astonished at the change in the nurse’s manner.

  “I have,” replied Judith, “and in very different hands.”

  “You surprise me,” cried Nizza. “Explain yourself, I beseech you.”

  “Not now — not now,” cried Judith, hastily returning the coin. “And this is to be mine in case I cure the youth?”

  “I have said so,” replied Nizza.

  “Then make yourself easy,” rejoined Judith; “he shall be well again in less than two days.”

  With this, she set a pan on the fire, and began to prepare a poultice, the materials for which she took from a small oaken chest in one corner of the vault. Nizza looked on anxiously, and while they were thus employed, a knock was heard at the door, and Chowles opening it, found the piper and one of the vergers.

  “Ah! is it you, father?” cried Nizza, rushing to him.

  “I am glad I have found you,” returned the piper, “for I began to fear some misfortune must have befallen you. Missing you in the morning, I traversed the cathedral in search of you with Bell, well knowing, if you were in the crowd, she would speedily discover you.”

  His daughter then hastily recounted what had happened. When the piper heard that she had promised the piece of gold to the plague-nurse, a cloud came over his open countenance.

  “You must never part with it,” he said— “never. It is an amulet, and if you lose it, or give it away, your good luck will go with it.”

  “Judith Malmayns says she has seen it before,” rejoined Nizza.

  “No such thing,” cried the piper hastily, “she knows nothing about it.

  But come with me. You must not stay here longer.”

  “But, father — dear father! — I want a small sum to pay the nurse for attending this poor young man,” cried Nizza.

  “I have no money,” replied the piper; “and if I had, I should not throw it away in so silly a manner. Come along; I shall begin think you are in love with the youth.”

  “Then you will not be far wide of the mark,” observed Judith, coarsely.

  The piper uttered an angry exclamation, and taking his daughter’s hand, dragged her out of the vault.

  “You will not get your fee,” laughed Chowles, as they were left alone.

  “So it appears,” replied Judith, taking the pan from the fire; “there is no use in wasting a poultice.”

  Shortly after this, the door of the vault again opened, and Parravicin looked in. He held a handkerchief sprinkled with vinegar to his face, and had evidently, from the manner in which he spoke, some antidote against the plague in his mouth.

  “Nizza Macascree has
been here, has she not?” he asked.

  “She has just left with her father,” replied Judith.

  Parravicin beckoned her to follow him, and led the way to the north aisle of Saint Faith’s.

  “Is the apprentice likely to recover?” he asked.

  “Humph!” exclaimed Judith; “that depends upon circumstances. Nizza

  Macascree offered me a large reward to cure him.”

  “Is he any connexion of hers?” asked the knight, sharply.

  “None whatever,” returned Judith, with a significant smile. “But he may possibly be so.”

  “I thought as much,” muttered the knight.

  “He never shall recover,” said Judith, halting, and speaking in a low tone, “if you make it worth my while.”

  “You read my wishes,” replied Parravicin, in a sombre tone. “Take this purse, and free me from him.”

  “He will never more cross your path,” replied Judith, eagerly grasping the reward.

  “Enough!” exclaimed Parravicin. “What has passed between us must be secret.”

  “As the grave which shall soon close over the victim,” she rejoined.

  Parravicin shuddered, and hurried away, while Judith returned at a slow pace, and chinking the purse as she went to the vault.

  She had scarcely passed through the door, when Nizza Macascree appeared from behind one of the massive pillars. “This dreadful crime must be prevented,” she cried— “but how? If I run to give the alarm, it may be executed, and no one will believe me. I will try to prevent it myself.”

  Crossing the channel, she was about to enter the vault, when Chowles stepped forth. She shrank backwards, and allowed him to pass, and then trying the door, found it unfastened.

  IX.

  HOW LEONARD WAS CURED OF THE PLAGUE.

  Nizza Macascree found Judith leaning over her intended victim, and examining the plague-spot on his breast. The nurse was so occupied by her task that she did not hear the door open, and it was not until the piper’s daughter was close beside her, that she was aware of her presence. Hastily drawing the blankets over the apprentice, she then turned, and regarded Nizza with a half-fearful, half-menacing look.