Old Saint Paul's: A Tale of the Plague and the Fire by William Harrison Ainsworth (recommended books to read .TXT) 📕

"And am I not to see poor Stephen again?" cried Mrs. Bloundel, bursting into tears.

"I hope you will soon see him again, and not lose sight of him for many years to come," replied the doctor. "As far as I can judge, the danger is over, and, aided by your husband's care and watchfulness, I have little doubt of bringing the youth round."

"You reconcile me to the deprivation, doctor," rejoined Mrs. Bloundel; "but can you insure my husband against the distemper?"

"I can insure no one against contagion," replied Hodges; "but there is much in his favour. He has no fear, and takes every needful precaution. You must hope for the best. I think it right to tell you, that you will be separated from him for a month."

"Separated from my husband for a month, doctor!" cried Mrs. Bloundel. "I must see him to-day. I have something of importance to say to him."

At this point of the conversation Amabel for the first time looked up. Her eyes were red and inflamed with weeping, and her looks betrayed great internal suffering.

"You cannot see my father, mother," she said in a broken and supplicatory tone.

"But she can write to him, or send a message by me," rejoined Hodges. "I will deliver it when I go downstairs."

"What my mother has to say cannot be confided to a third party, sir," returned Amabel.

"Better defer it, then," said the doctor, who, as he looked hard at her, and saw the colour mount to her cheeks, began to suspect something of the truth. "Whatever you have to say, Mrs. Bloundel, may be very well delayed; for the house is now closed, with a watchman at the door, and will continue so for a month to come. No one can quit it, except members of our profession, searchers, nurses, and other authorized persons, during that time."

"But can no one enter it, do you think?" asked Mrs. Bloundel.

"No one would desire to do so, I should conceive, except a lover," replied Hodges, with a sly look at Amabel, who instantly averted her gaze. "Where a pretty girl is concerned, the plague itself has no terrors."

"Precisely my opinion, doctor," rejoined Mrs. Bloundel; "and as I cannot consult my husband, perhaps you will favour me with your advice as to how I ought to act, if such a person as you describe should get into the house."

"I seldom meddle with family matters," rejoined Hodges; "but I feel so much interest in all that relates to Mr. Bloundel, that I am induced to depart from my rule on the present occasion. It is evident you have lost your heart," he added, to Amabel, whose blushes told him he was right; "but not, I hope, to one of those worthless court-gallants, who, as I learn from common report, are in the habit of toasting you daily. If it is so, you must subdue your passion; for it cannot lead to good. Be not dazzled by a brilliant exterior, which often conceals a treacherous heart; but try to fix your affections on some person of little pretension, but of solid worth. Never, I grieve to say, was there a season when such universal profligacy prevailed as at present. Never was it so necessary for a young maiden, possessed of beauty like yours, to act with discretion. Never was a court so licentious as that of our sovereign, Charles the Second, whose corrupt example is imitated by every one around him, while its baneful influence extends to all classes. Were I to echo the language of the preachers, I should say it was owing to the wickedness and immorality of the times that this dreadful judgment of the plague has been inflicted upon us; but I merely bring it forward as an argument to prove to you, Amabel, that if you would escape the moral contagion by which you are threatened, you must put the strictest guard upon your conduct."

Amabel faintly murmured her thanks.

"You speak as my husband himself would have spoken," said Mrs. Bloundel. "Ah! we little thought, when we prayed that the pestilence might be averted from us, that a worse calamity was behind, and that one of the most profligate of the courtiers you have mentioned would find his way to our house."

"One of the most profligate of them?" cried Hodges. "Who, in Heaven's name?"

"He calls himself Maurice Wyvil," replied Mrs. Bloundel.

"I never heard of such a person," rejoined the doctor. "It must be an assumed name. Have you no letter or token that might lead to his discovery?" he added, turning to Amabel.

"I have his portrait," she replied, drawing a small miniature from her bosom.

"I am glad I have seen this," said the doctor, slightly starting as he cast his eyes upon it. "I hope it is not too late to save you, Amabel," he added, in a severe tone. "I hope you are free from contamination?"

"As I live, I am," she replied. "But you recognise the likeness?"

"I do," returned Hodges. "It is the portrait of one whose vices and depravity are the town's cry, and whose name coupled with that of a woman, is sufficient to sully her reputation."

"It is the Earl of Rochester," said Mrs. Bloundel.

"You have guessed aright," replied the doctor; "it is."

Uttering an exclamation of surprise and terror, Amabel fell back in her chair.

"I thought it must be that wicked nobleman," cried Mrs. Bloundel. "Would you believe it, doctor, that he forced himself into the house—nay, into this room—last night, and would have carried off my daughter, in spite of her resistance, if I had not prevented him."

"I can believe anything of him," replied Hodges. "But your husband, of course, knows nothing of the matter?"

"Not as yet," replied Mrs. Bloundel; "but I authorize you to tell him all."

"Mother, dear mother," cried Amabel, flinging herself on her knees before her, "I implore you not to add to my father's present distress. I might not have been able to conquer my attachment to Maurice Wyvil, but now that I find he is the Earl of Rochester, I regard him with abhorrence."

"If I could believe you sincere," said Mrs. Bloundel, "I might be induced to spare your father the pain which the knowledge of this unfortunate affair would necessarily inflict."

"I am sincere,—indeed I am," replied Amabel.

"To prove that the earl could not have had honourable intentions towards you, Amabel," said the doctor, "I may mention that he is at this moment urging his suit with Mistress Mallet,—a young heiress."

"Ah!" exclaimed Amabel.

"I was in attendance upon Mistress Stewart, the king's present favourite, the day before yesterday," continued Hodges, "and heard his majesty entreat her to use her influence with Mistress Mallet in Rochester's behalf. After this, you cannot doubt the nature of his intentions towards yourself."