The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “I hope you have sustained no injury during this tumult, reverend and dear sir?” he asked, with great apparent solicitude.

  “I am not much hurt,” replied the preacher; “but I have received a blow on the head, which has stunned me. The faintness will go off presently. You were the cause of this disturbance, Bambolio.”

  “I, Doctor Maplebury?” replied Bambolio. “I endeavoured to stop it. But your reverence looks extremely ill. I am sure, sir,” he added to Mr. Bloundel, “after the high character my master gave you in his discourse, and which I am persuaded you deserve, you will extend your hospitality towards him.”

  “Readily,” replied the grocer. “Here, Blaize, assist the reverend gentleman within, and bid your mistress come down stairs immediately.”

  Doctor Maplebury was then conveyed between the porter and Bambolio into the inner room, where he sank into a chair in a complete state of exhaustion. The next moment Mrs. Bloundel made her appearance with Amabel. The latter no sooner beheld the preacher, than she started and trembled so violently, that she could scarcely support herself; but her mother, who only saw a fainting man, flew to his assistance, and called to Patience to bring restoratives. These applied, Doctor Maplebury was soon able to rouse himself sufficiently to gaze round the room, and fix his eyes on Amabel.

  “So our old friends are here again,” said Patience in a low tone to

  Blaize, as they left the room together.

  “Old friends! What do you mean?” rejoined the porter.

  “Why, the Earl of Rochester and Major Pillichody,” replied Patience. “I knew them at a glance, and so did Mistress Amabel. But if I hadn’t discovered them, the major would soon have let me into the secret by the way in which he squeezed my hand.”

  “Indeed!” exclaimed Blaize, angrily. “I’ll go and acquaint my master with the trick directly.”

  “Do so,” replied Patience, “and the house will be shut up to-morrow. Our only chance of averting that calamity is in the earl.”

  XI.

  HOW THE GROCER SHUT UP HIS HOUSE.

  Placed in a warm bed, and carefully tended by the humane physician, Leonard Holt slept tranquilly for some hours, and when he awoke, though so weak as scarcely to be able to lift an arm, he was free from all ailment. Feeling ravenously hungry, he made known his wants; and, provisions being set before him, he was allowed to eat and drink in moderation. Greatly revived by the meal, he arose and attired himself in habiliments provided for him by Hodges, who, finding him fully equal to conversation, questioned him as to all that had occurred prior to his seizure.

  “You have acted nobly,” observed the doctor, at the close of his recital; “and if Amabel had a spark of generosity in her composition, she would worthily requite you. But I do not expect it. How different is her conduct from that of the piper’s pretty daughter. The latter really loves you; and I would advise you as a friend to turn your thoughts to her. She will make you happy: whereas the indulgence of your present hopeless passion — for hopeless it is — can only lead to wretchedness.”

  “Would I could follow your advice!” replied Leonard; “but, alas! I cannot. Amabel does not love the Earl of Rochester more blindly, more constantly, than I love her; and I could as soon change my nature as transfer my affection to another.”

  “I am truly sorry for it,” rejoined Hodges, in a tone of deep sympathy.

  “And you still desire to return to your master?”

  “Unquestionably,” replied Leonard. “If I am banished the house, I shall wander round it night and day like a ghost.”

  “I will accompany you there this evening,” rejoined Hodges, “and I trust I shall be able to arrange matters without compromising Amabel. I wish I could forward your suit more efficiently; but I see no chance of it, and, to deal plainly with you, I do not think a marriage with her would be for your happiness. The brilliant qualities of your noble rival at present so dazzle her eyes, that your own solid worth is completely overlooked. It will be well if her father can preserve her from ruin.”

  “The earl shall die by my hand rather than he shall succeed in his infamous purpose,” cried Leonard, fiercely.

  “No more of this!” exclaimed Hodges. “If you would have me take an interest in you, you will never give utterance to such a sentiment again. Amabel has another guardian, more powerful even than her father — the plague. Ere long the earl, who has a sufficient value for his own safety, will fly the city.”

  “I hope the pestilence will number him among its victims,” observed

  Leonard, in a sombre tone.

  At this juncture the old porter entered the room, and informed his master that the piper’s daughter was below, and had called to inquire after the apprentice.

  Hodges desired she might be shown upstairs, and the next moment Nizza was ushered into the room. On beholding the improved appearance of Leonard, she could not repress an exclamation of delight, while a deep blush suffused her cheeks.

  “You are surprised to find him quite well,” observed Hodges, with a smile. “Nay, you may approach him with safety. There is no fear of contagion now.”

  “Having satisfied myself on that point, I will take my leave,” rejoined

  Nizza, in some confusion.

  “Not till you have allowed me to return my thanks, I trust,” said Leonard, advancing towards her, and taking her hand. “I owe my life to you.”

  “Then pay the debt by devoting it to her,” rejoined Hodges. “Excuse me for a few minutes. I have business to attend to, but will be back again directly.”

  Left alone together, the young couple felt so much embarrassment that for some minutes neither could utter a word. At length Nizza, who had suffered her hand to remain in that of Leonard, gently withdrew it.

  “Circumstances have given me a claim to your confidence,” she faltered, “and you will not misconstrue my motive, when I ask you whether you still retain the same affection as formerly for Amabel?”

  “Unfortunately for myself, I do,” replied Leonard.

  “And unfortunately for me too,” sighed Nizza. “Doctor Hodges says he can restore you to your master’s favour. You will therefore return home, and we shall meet no more.”

  “In these precarious times, those who part, though even for a few days, can feel no certainty of meeting again,” rejoined Leonard. “But I hope we shall be more fortunate.”

  “You mistake me,” replied Nizza. “Henceforth I shall sedulously avoid you. Till I saw you, I was happy, and indifferent to all else, my affections being centred in my father and in my dog. Now I am restless and miserable. My former pursuits are abandoned, and I think only of you. Despise me if you will after this frank avowal. But believe that I would not have made it if I had not resolved to see you no more.”

  “Despise you!” echoed Leonard. “On no! I shall ever feel the deepest gratitude towards you; but perhaps it is better we should meet no more.”

  “And yet you throw yourself in the way of Amabel,” cried Nizza. “You have not resolution to fly from the danger which you counsel me to shun.”

  “It is too true,” replied Leonard; “but she is beset by temptations from which I hope to preserve her.”

  “That excuse will not avail me,” returned Nizza, bitterly. “You cannot live without her. But I have said enough — more than enough,” she added, correcting herself. “I must now bid you farewell — for ever. May you be happy with Amabel, and may she love you as I love you!”

  As she said this she would have rushed out of the room, if she had not been stopped by Doctor Hodges.

  “Whither so fast?” he inquired.

  “Oh! let me go — let me go, I implore of you!” she cried, bursting into an agony of tears.

  “Not till you have composed yourself,” rejoined the doctor. “What is the matter? But I need not ask. I wonder Leonard can be insensible to charms like yours, coupled with such devotion. Everything seems to be at cross purposes, and it requires some one more skilled in the affairs of the heart than
an old bachelor like myself to set them right. Sit down. I have a few questions of importance to ask you before you depart.”

  And partly by entreaty, partly by compulsion, he made her take a chair; and as soon as she was sufficiently composed to answer him, questioned her as to what she knew relating to Judith Malmayns and Chowles.

  “Mr. Quatremain, the minor canon, has died of the plague in one of the vaults of Saint Faith’s,” he observed; “and I more than suspect, from the appearance of the body, has not met with fair play.”

  “Your suspicion is well founded, sir,” replied Nizza. “Solomon Eagle told me that the unfortunate man’s end was hastened by the plague-nurse. Nor is this her sole crime. She was hired to make away with Leonard Holt in the same manner, and would have accomplished her purpose but for the intervention of Solomon Eagle.”

  “Neither she nor her partner in guilt, the coffin-maker, shall escape justice this time,” replied Hodges. “I will instantly cause her to be arrested, and I trust she will expiate her offences at Tyburn. But to change the subject. I am sincerely interested about you, Nizza, and I wish I could make Leonard as sensible of your merits as I am myself. I still hope a change will take place in his feelings.”

  “My heart tells me the contrary,” replied Nizza. “There is no hope for either of us. Farewell, Leonard!” and she rushed out of the room.

  Soon after this Hodges quitted the apprentice, and going before a magistrate, detailed all that had come to his knowledge concerning the criminal practices of Judith Malmayns and Chowles. In the course of the day the accused parties were arrested, and, after a long examination, conveyed to Newgate. Solomon Eagle could not be found, neither could Sir Paul Parravicin. It appeared that Mr. Quatremain’s residence had been entered on that very morning, and the box of treasure discovered in Saint Faith’s abstracted. But though the strongest suspicion of the robbery attached to Chowles and Judith, it could not be brought home to them.

  We shall now proceed to Wood-street, and ascertain what took place there. Refreshments were placed before the supposed Doctor Maplebury by the grocer, while his attendant was sent to the kitchen, and directions given to Blaize to take every care of him; old Josyna was occupied about her own concerns; and Pillichody, perceiving from the porter’s manner that his disguise was detected, laid aside concealment altogether, and endeavoured to win the other over to his patron’s interests.

  “If this marriage takes place,” he said, “I am authorized by my noble friend to state that he will appoint you his steward with a large salary, and that will be a very different situation from the one you hold at present. A nobleman’s steward! Think of that. You will have a retinue of servants under your control, and will live quite as well as his lordship.”

  “I have some scruples,” hesitated Blaize.

  “Scruples! pshaw!” cried Pillichody. “You can have no hesitation in benefiting yourself. If you remain here, the house will be shut up, and you will be kept a close prisoner for months in the very heart of an infected city, and I dare say will be buried in yonder cellar; whereas, if you go with the Earl of Rochester, you will dwell in a magnificent country mansion — a palace, I ought to call it — enjoy every luxury, and remain there till the plague is over.”

  “That last reason decides me,” replied Blaize. “But I suppose his lordship will provide himself with a medicine chest?”

  “He has already got one as large as this table,” said Pillichody, “and you shall have the key of it.”

  “Enough!” exclaimed Blaise. “I am yours.”

  “Pray, what am I to be?” asked Patience, who had listened to the foregoing conversation with a smile at Blaize’s credulity.

  “You, sweetheart!” exclaimed Pillichody. “I will take care of you. You shall be my housekeeper.”

  “Hold!” cried Blaize. “I cannot admit that. Patience and I are engaged.”

  “Since you are promoted to such an important situation, you can make a better match,” observed Patience. “I release you from the engagement.”

  “I don’t choose to be released,” returned Blaize; “I will marry you on the same day that the earl weds Amabel.”

  “That will be to-night, or to-morrow at the latest,” said Pillichody. “Consent, sweetheart,” he added, in a whisper to Patience; “if we can once get you and your pretty mistress out of the house, we will leave this simpleton fool in the lurch.”

  “No, I will never consent to such a thing,” returned Patience, in the same tone.

  “What’s that you are saying?” inquired Blaize, suspiciously.

  “Major Pillichody says he will marry me, if you won’t,” returned

  Patience.

  “I have just told you I will,” rejoined Blaize. “But he must not continue his attentions. I feel I shall be very jealous.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” returned Patience, bursting into a loud laugh, “for that proves you love me.”

  “Well,” observed Pillichody, “I won’t interfere with a friend; and as there is no knowing what may occur, it will be as well to prepare accordingly.”

  So saying, he fell to work upon the provisions loading the board, and ate and drank as if determined to lay in a stock for the next two days.

  Meantime the earl made rapid progress in the good opinion both of Mr. Bloundel and his wife. Adapting his discourse precisely to their views, and exerting his matchless conversational powers to their full extent, he so charmed them that they thought they could listen to him for ever. While thus engaged, he contrived ever and anon to steal a glance at Amabel, and on these occasions, his eyes were quite as eloquent and intelligible as his tongue.

  Among other topics interesting to the grocer, the persecution to which his daughter had been recently subjected was brought forward. Mr. Bloundel could not reprobate the earl’s conduct more strongly than his guest did; and he assailed himself with such virulence that, in spite of her uneasiness, Amabel could not repress a smile. In short, he so accommodated himself to the grocer’s opinion, and so won upon his regard, that the latter offered him an asylum in his house during the continuance of the pestilence. This was eagerly accepted, and the earl, hazarding a look at Amabel at the moment, perceived her change colour and become greatly agitated. Mrs. Bloundel also noticed her confusion, but attributing it to any other than the right cause, begged her, in a low tone, to control herself.

  At length, the opportunity for which the earl had been secretly sighing occurred. Mr. Bloundel called his wife out of the room for a moment, and as their eldest son, Stephen, was in the shop, and the two other children upstairs, Amabel was left alone with her lover. The door was no sooner closed than he sprang towards her and threw himself at her feet.

  “Shall I avail myself of your father’s offer, sweetheart?” he cried. “Shall I remain here with you — the happiest of prisoners — or will you once more accompany me? This time, our marriage shall not be interrupted.”

  “Perhaps not, my lord,” she replied, gravely; “but it will be a mock ceremonial, like the last. Do not attempt to deceive me. I am fully aware of your intentions, and after the awful fate of the wretched instrument of your purposed criminality, you will not readily get another person to tempt in like manner the vengeance of Heaven. I have had a severe struggle with myself. But at length I have triumphed over my irresolution. I will not disguise from you that I love you still, — and must ever, I fear, continue to love you. But I will not be yours on the terms you propose. Neither will I leave this house with you, nor suffer you to remain in it, in any other than your proper character. On my father’s return I will disclose all to him. If your designs are honourable, I am sure he will no longer oppose my union with you. If not, we part for ever.”

  “Be prudent, sweet girl, I entreat of you,” cried the earl imploringly. “Your indiscretion will ruin all. There are a thousand reasons why your father should not be consulted on the matter.”

  “There are none that weigh with me,” she interrupted, decidedly. “I have been bewilde
red — beside myself, — but, thank Heaven, I have recovered before it is too late.”

  “You are beside yourself at this moment,” cried Rochester, unable to control his anger and mortification, “and will bitterly repent your folly. Neither your supplications nor my rank will have any weight with your father, prejudiced as he is against me. Fly with me, and I swear to make you mine, without a moment’s loss of time. Will not my plighted word content you?”

  “No, my lord, you have broken it already,” returned Amabel. “My father shall know the truth.”

  A dark shade passed over Rochester’s countenance, and a singular and most forbidding expression, which Amabel had once before noticed, took possession of it. His love for her seemed changed to hate, and she tremblingly averted her gaze. At this juncture, the door opened, and the grocer and his wife entered the room. The former started, on seeing Amabel and the supposed preacher in such close propinquity, and a painful suspicion of the truth crossed his mind. He was not, however, kept long in suspense. Throwing off his wig, and letting his own fair ringlets fall over his shoulders, the earl tore open his cassock, and disclosed his ordinary rich attire. At the same time, his face underwent an equally striking change, — each feature resuming its original expression; and the grocer, though he witnessed the whole transformation, could scarcely believe that the same individual he had recently beheld stood before him.

  “You now know who I am, Mr. Bloundel, and what brought me hither,” said

  Rochester, with a haughty salutation.

  “I do, my lord,” replied the grocer, “and I give you full credit for your daring and ingenuity. After the manner in which I have been imposed upon myself, I can make allowance for others.” He then turned to Amabel, and said, in a severe tone, “You are no longer my daughter.”