The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “What brings you here again?” she inquired, sharply.

  “Ask your own heart, and it will tell you,” rejoined Nizza, boldly. “I am come to preserve the life of this poor youth.”

  “If you think you can nurse him better than I can, you can take my place and welcome,” returned Judith, affecting not to understand her; “I have plenty of other business to attend to, and should be glad to be released from the trouble.”

  “Can she already have effected her fell purpose?” thought Nizza, gazing at the apprentice, whose perturbed features proclaimed that his slumber procured him no rest from suffering. “No — no — she has not had time. I accept your offer,” she added, aloud.

  “But what will your father say to this arrangement?” asked Judith.

  “When he knows my motive, he will not blame me,” answered Nizza. “Here I take my place,” she continued, seating herself, “and will not quit it till he is out of danger.”

  “Your love for this youth borders upon insanity,” cried Judith, angrily.

  “You shall not destroy yourself thus.”

  “Neither shall you destroy him,” retorted Nizza. “It is to prevent the commission of the crime you meditate, and for which you have been paid, that I am determined to remain with him.”

  As she said this, a singular and frightful change took place in the nurse’s appearance. A slight expression of alarm was at first visible, but it was instantly succeeded by a look so savage and vindictive, that Nizza almost repented having provoked the ire of so unscrupulous a person. But summoning up all her resolution, she returned Judith’s glance with one as stern and steady, if not so malignant as her own. A deep silence prevailed for a few minutes, during which each fancied she could read the other’s thoughts. In Nizza’s opinion, the nurse was revolving some desperate expedient, and she kept on her guard, lest an attack should be made upon her life. And some such design did, in reality, cross Judith; but abandoning it as soon as formed, she resolved to have recourse to more secret, but not less certain measures.

  “Well,” she said, breaking silence, “since you are determined to have your own way, and catch the plague, and most likely perish from it, I shall not try to hinder you. Do what you please, and see what will come of it.”

  And she made as if about to depart; but finding Nizza did not attempt to stop her, she halted.

  “I cannot leave you thus,” she continued; “if you will remain, take this ointment,” producing a small jar, “and rub the plague-spot with it. It is a sovereign remedy, and will certainly effect a cure.”

  “I will not touch it,” returned Nizza.

  “His death, then, be upon your head,” rejoined Judith, quitting the vault, and closing the door after her.

  Greatly relieved by her departure, Nizza began to consider what she should do, and whether it would be possible to remove the apprentice to some safer place. “While occupied with these reflections, the object of her solicitude heaved a deep sigh, and opening his eyes, fixed them upon her. It was evident, however, that he did not know her, but as far as could be gathered from his ravings, mistook her for Amabel. By degrees he grew calmer, and the throbbing anguish of the tumour in some measure subsiding, his faculties returned to him.

  “Where am I?” he exclaimed, pressing his hand forcibly to his brow, “and what is the matter with me?”

  “You are in a vault, near Saint Faith’s,” replied Nizza, “and — I will not deceive you — the disorder you are labouring under is the plague.”

  “The plague!” echoed Leonard, with a look of horror. “Ah! now I recollect. I was attacked immediately after Amabel’s departure with her father. Heaven be praised! she is safe. That is some consolation amid all this misery. Could my master behold me now, he would pity me, and so perhaps would his daughter.”

  “Heed her not,” rejoined Nizza, in a slightly reproachful tone, “she does not deserve consideration. To return to yourself. You are not safe here. Judith Malmayns has been hired to take away your life. Are you able to move hence?”

  “I hope so,” replied Leonard, raising himself on his arm.

  “Wrap a blanket round you, then, and follow me,” said Nizza, taking up the lamp and hastening to the door. “Ah!” she exclaimed, with a cry of anguish— “it is locked.”

  “This building is destined to be my prison, and that treacherous woman my gaoler,” groaned Leonard, sinking backwards.

  “Do not despair,” cried Nizza; “I will accomplish your deliverance.”

  So saying, she tried, by knocking against the door and by loud outcries, to give the alarm. But no answer was returned, and she soon became convinced that Judith had fastened the door of the charnel, which, it will be remembered, lay between the vault and the body of Saint Faith’s. Hence, no sound could teach the outer structure. Disturbed by what had just occurred. Leonard’s senses again wandered; but, exerting all her powers to tranquillize him, Nizza at last succeeded so well that he sunk into a slumber.

  Almost regarding his situation as hopeless, she took up the lamp, and searching the vault, found the pan containing the half-made poultice. The fire smouldered on the hearth, and replenishing it from a scanty supply in one corner, she heated the poultice and applied it to the tumour. This done, she continued her search. But though she found several phials, each bearing the name of some remedy for the pestilence, her distrust of Judith would not allow her to use any of them. Resuming her seat by the couch of the sufferer, and worn out with fatigue and anxiety, she presently dropped asleep.

  She was awakened after awhile by a slight noise near her, and beheld Judith bending over the apprentice, with a pot of ointment in her hand, which she was about to apply to the part affected. The poultice had already been removed. Uttering a loud cry, Nizza started to her feet, and snatching the ointment from the nurse, threw it away. As soon as the latter recovered from her surprise, she seized her assailant, and forced her into the seat she had just quitted.

  “Stir not till I give you permission,” she cried, fiercely; “I wish to cure this young man, if you will let me.”

  “You intend to murder him,” replied Nizza; “but while I live you shall never accomplish your atrocious purpose. Help! help!” And she uttered a prolonged piercing scream.

  “Peace! or I will strangle you,” cried Judith, compressing Nizza’s slender throat with a powerful gripe.

  And she would, in all probability, have executed her terrible threat, if a secret door in the wall had not suddenly opened and admitted Solomon Eagle. A torch supplied the place of his brazier, and he held it aloft, and threw its ruddy light upon the scene. On seeing him, Judith relinquished her grasp, and glared at him with a mixture of defiance and apprehension; while Nizza, half dead with terror, instantly rushed towards him, and throwing herself at his feet, besought him to save her.

  “No harm shall befall you,” replied Solomon Eagle, extending his arm over her. “Tell me what has happened.”

  Nizza hastily explained the motive of Judith’s attack upon her life. The plague-nurse endeavoured to defend herself, and, in her turn, charged her accuser with a like attempt. But Solomon Eagle interrupted her.

  “Be silent, false woman!” he cried, “and think not to delude me with these idle fabrications. I fully believe that you would have taken the life of this poor youth, and, did I not regard you as one of the necessary agents of Heaven’s vengeance, I would instantly deliver you up to justice. But the measure of your iniquities is not yet filled up. Your former crimes are not unknown to me. Neither is the last dark deed, which you imagined concealed from every human eye, hidden from me.”

  “I know not what you mean,” returned Judith, trembling, in spite of herself.

  “I will tell you, then,” rejoined Solomon Eagle, catching her hand, and dragging her into the furthest corner of the vault. “Give ear to me,” he continued, in a low voice, “and doubt, if you can, that I have witnessed what I relate. I saw you enter a small chamber behind the vestry, in which Thomas Quatremain, who o
nce filled the place of minor canon in this cathedral, was laid. No one was there beside yourself and the dying man. Your first business was to search his vestments, and take away his keys.”

  “Ha!” exclaimed Judith, starting.

  “While securing his keys,” pursued Solomon Eagle, “the owner awakened, and uttered a low, but angry remonstrance. Better he had been silent. Dipping a napkin in an ewer of water that stood beside him, you held the wet cloth over his face, and did not remove it till life was extinct. All this I saw.”

  “But you will not reveal it,” said Judith, tremblingly.

  “I will not,” replied Solomon Eagle, “for the reasons I have just stated; namely, that I look upon you as one of the scourges appointed by Heaven.”

  “And so I am,” rejoined Judith, with impious exultation; “it is my mission to destroy and pillage, and I will fulfil it.”

  “Take heed you do not exceed it,” replied Solomon Eagle. “Lift a finger against either of these young persons, and I will reveal all. Yes,” he continued, menacingly, “I will disclose such dreadful things against you, that you will assuredly be adjudged to a gibbet higher than the highest tower of this proud fane.”

  “I defy you, wretch!” retorted Judith. “You can prove nothing against me.”

  “Defy me? — ha!” cried Solomon Eagle, with a terrible laugh. “First,” he added, dashing her backwards against the wall— “first, to prove my power. Next,” he continued, drawing from her pockets a bunch of keys, “to show that I speak the truth. These were taken from the vest of the murdered man. No one, as yet, but ourselves, knows that he is dead.”

  “And who shall say which of the two is the murderer?” cried Judith.

  “Villain! I charge you with the deed.”

  “You are, indeed, well fitted for your appointed task,” returned Solomon Eagle, gazing at her with astonishment, “for sometimes Heaven, for its own wise purpose, will allow the children of hell to execute its vengeance upon earth. But think not you will always thus escape. No, you may pursue your evil course for a while — you, and your companion in crime; but a day of retribution will arrive for both — a day when ye shall be devoured, living, by flames of fire — when all your sins shall arise before your eyes, and ye shall have no time for repentance — and when ye shall pass from one fierce fire to another yet fiercer, and wholly unquenchable!”

  As he concluded, he again dashed her against the wall with such violence that she fell senseless upon the ground.

  “And now,” he said, turning to Nizza Macascree, who looked on in alarm and surprise, “what can I do for you?”

  “Bear this youth to a place of safety,” was her answer.

  Solomon Eagle answered by lifting up the pallet upon which Leonard was laid, with as much ease as if it had been an infant’s cradle, and calling on Nizza to bring the torch, passed with his burden through the secret door. Directing her to close it after them, he took his way alone a narrow stone passage, until he came to a chink in the wall commanding a small chamber, and desired her to look through it. She obeyed, and beheld, stretched upon a couch, the corpse of a man.

  “It is Mr. Quatremain, the minor canon,” she said, retiring.

  “It is,” returned Solomon Eagle, “and it will be supposed that he died of the plague. But his end was accelerated by Judith Malmayns.”

  Without allowing her time for reply, he pursued his course, traversing another long, narrow passage.

  “Where are we?” asked Nizza, as they arrived at the foot of a spiral stone staircase.

  “Beneath the central tower of the cathedral,” replied Solomon Eagle. “I will take you to a cell known only to myself, where this youth will be in perfect safety.”

  Ascending the staircase, they passed through an arched door, and entered the great northern ambulatory. Nizza gazed down for a moment into the nave, but all was buried in darkness, and no sound reached her to give her an idea that any one was below. Proceeding towards the west, Solomon Eagle arrived at a small recess in the wall opposite one of the broad-arched openings looking into the nave, and entering it, pressed against a spring at the further extremity, and a stone door flying open, discovered a secret cell, on the floor of which his brazier was burning. Depositing his burden on the floor, he said to Nizza, “He is now safe. Go in search of proper assistance, and I will watch by him till you return.”

  Nizza did not require a second exhortation, but quitting the cell, and noticing its situation, swiftly descended the winding staircase, and hurrying along the northern aisle, proceeded to a small chamber beneath the tower at its western extremity, which she knew was occupied by one of the vergers. Speedily arousing him, she told him her errand, and implored him to remain on the watch till she returned with Doctor Hodges. The verger promised compliance; and, opening a wicket in the great doorway, allowed her to go forth. A few seconds brought her to the doctor’s dwelling, and though it was an hour after midnight, her summons was promptly answered by the old porter, who conveyed her message to his master. Doctor Hodges had just retired to rest; but, on learning in whose behalf his services were required, he sprang out of bed, and hastily slipped on his clothes.

  “I would not, for half I am worth, that that poor youth should perish,” he cried. “I take a great interest in him — a very great interest. He must not be neglected. How comes he at Saint Paul’s, I wonder? But I can obtain information on that point as I go thither. No time must be lost.”

  Ruminating thus, he swallowed a glass of sack, and providing himself with a case of instruments, and such medicines as he thought he might require, he descended to Nizza. On the way to the cathedral, she acquainted him with what had befallen Leonard during the last four-and-twenty hours, and the only circumstance that she kept back was Judith’s attempt on his life. This she intended to reveal at a more fitting opportunity. The doctor expressed somewhat emphatically his disapproval of the conduct of Mr. Bloundel, but promised to set all to rights without loss of time.

  “The only difficulty I foresee,” he observed, “is that the poor youth is attacked by the pestilence; and though I may succeed in curing him, his master will probably have shut up his house before I can accomplish my object, in which case, all chance of his union with Amabel will be at an end.”

  “So much the better,” rejoined Nizza, sharply; “she does not deserve him.”

  “There I agree with you,” returned Hodges. “But could you point out any one who does?” he added, with a slight but significant laugh.

  No answer was returned; and as they had just reached the portico of the cathedral, they entered the sacred structure in silence.

  As they ascended the winding stairs, loud outcries resounded along the ambulatory, and echoed by the vaulted roof of the nave, convinced them that the sufferer was again in a state of frenzy, produced by fever and the anguish of his sore; and on reaching the cell they found him struggling violently with Solomon Eagle, who held him down by main force.

  “He is in a fearfully excited state, truly,” observed Hodges, as he drew near, “and must not be left for a moment, or he will do himself a mischief. I must give him a draught to allay the fever, and compose his nerves — for in this state I dare not have recourse to the lancet.”

  With this he dressed the tumour; and pouring the contents of a large phial which he had brought with him in a cup, he held it to the burning lips of the apprentice, who eagerly quaffed it. It was soon apparent that the dose produced a salutary effect, and a second was administered. Still the sufferer, though calmer, continued to ramble as before — complained that his veins were filled with molten lead — entreated them to plunge him in a stream, so that he might cool his intolerable thirst, and appeared to be in great agony. Doctor Hodges watched by him till daybreak, at which time he sank into a slumber; and Solomon Eagle, who had never till then relinquished his hold of him, now ventured to resign his post. The doctor was then about to depart; but at the urgent solicitation of Nizza, who had stationed herself at the door of the cell, h
e agreed to remain a little longer.

  Two hours after this, the doors of the cathedral were opened, and a large crowd soon assembled within the nave, as on the preceding day. The tumult of voices reached the cell and awakened the sleeper. Before he could be prevented he started from his bed, and dashing aside the feeble opposition offered by Nizza and the doctor, ran along the ambulatory, uttering a loud and fearful cry. Finding the door of the winding staircase open, he darted through it, and in a few seconds reappeared in the aisle. Hearing the cries, several persons rushed to meet him; but on beholding his haggard looks and strange appearance — he was merely wrapped in a blanket, — they instantly recoiled. Mean-time, Doctor Hodges, who had run to one of the arched openings looking on the nave, called out to them to secure the fugitive. But all fled at his approach; and when he reached the door of the southern transept, the verger, instead of attempting to stop him, retreated with a cry of alarm. As he passed through the outlet, one man bolder than the rest caught hold of him, and endeavoured to detain him. But, leaving the blanket in his hands, and without other covering than his shirt, the apprentice dashed across the churchyard — next shaped his course down Saint Bennet’s-hill — then crossed Thames-street, — and finally speeding along another narrow thoroughfare, reached Paul’s Wharf. Gazing for a moment at the current sweeping past him — it was high-tide, — he plunged head foremost into it from the high embankment, and on rising to the surface, being a strong and expert swimmer, struck out for the opposite shore. Those who beheld him were filled with amazement; but such was the alarm occasioned by his appearance, that none ventured to interfere with him. He had not crossed more than a fourth part of the stream when Doctor Hodges arrived at the wharf; but neither promises of reward nor threats could induce any of the watermen to follow him. The humane physician would have sprung into a boat, but feeling he should be wholly unable to manage it, he most reluctantly abandoned his purpose. Scarcely doubting what the result of this rash attempt would be, and yet unable to tear himself away, he lingered on the wharf till he saw Leonard reach the opposite bank, where an attempt was made by a party of persons to seize him. But instead of quietly surrendering himself, the apprentice instantly leapt into the river again, and began to swim back towards the point whence he had started. Amazed at what he saw, the doctor ordered his servant, who by this time had joined the group, to bring a blanket, and descending to the edge of the river, awaited the swimmer’s arrival. In less than ten minutes he had reached the shore, and clambering on the bank, fell from exhaustion.