Old Saint Paul's: A Tale of the Plague and the Fire. Ainsworth William Harrison
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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."
The apprentice made no reply, but, unlocking a box, took out a brace of large horse-pistols and a sword, and thrust them into his girdle.
"You do not mean to use those murderous weapons?" cried Amabel.
"It depends on circumstances," replied Leonard. "Force must be met by force."
"Nay, then," she rejoined, "the affair assumes too serious an aspect to be trifled with. I will instantly alarm my father."
"Do so," retorted Leonard, "and he will cast you off for ever."
"Better that, than be the cause of bloodshed," she returned. "But is there nothing I can do to prevent this fatal result?"
"Yes," replied Leonard. "Make your lover understand he is unwelcome to you. Dismiss him for ever. On that condition, he shall depart unharmed and freely."
"I will do so," she rejoined.
Nothing more was then said. Amabel seated herself and kept her eyes fixed on Leonard, who, avoiding her regards, stationed himself near the door.
By-and-by