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

"Might not the real name of the villain who has assumed the name of Sir Paul Parravicin be ascertained from the Earl of Rochester?" rejoined Leonard.

"So I thought," replied Hodges; "and I made the attempt yesterday, but it failed. I was at Whitehall, and finding the earl in the king's presence, suddenly asked him where I could find his friend Sir Paul Parravicin. He looked surprised at the question, glanced significantly at the monarch, and then carelessly answered that he knew no such person."

"A strange idea crosses me," cried Leonard. "Can it be the king who has assumed this disguise?"

"At one time I suspected as much," rejoined Hodges; "but setting aside your description of the person, which does not tally with that of Charles, I am satisfied from other circumstances it is not so. After all, I should not wonder if poor Bell," smoothing her long silky ears as she lay in the apprentice's arms, "should help us to discover her mistress. And now," he added, "I shall go to Wood-street to inquire after Amabel, and will then accompany you to the pest-house. From what you tell me the young chirurgeon said of the piper, I do not despair of his recovery."

"Poor as his chance may appear, it is better, I fear, than Amabel's," sighed the apprentice.

"Ah!" exclaimed Hodges, in a sorrowful tone, "hers is slight indeed."

And perceiving that the apprentice was greatly moved, he waited for a moment till he had recovered himself, and then, motioning him to follow him, they quitted the house together.

On reaching Mr. Bloundel's habitation, Leonard pulled the cord in the hutch, and the grocer appeared at the window.

"My daughter has not left her bed this morning," he said, in answer to the doctor's inquiries, "and I fear she is much worse. My wife is with her. It would be a great satisfaction to me if you would see her again."

After some little hesitation, Hodges assented, and was drawn up as before. He returned in about half an hour, and his grave countenance convinced Leonard that his worst anticipations were correct. He therefore forbore to question him, and they walked towards Cripplegate in silence.

On emerging into the fields, Hodges observed to his companion, "It is strange that I who daily witness such dreadful suffering should be pained by the gradual and easy decline of Amabel. But so it is. Her case touches me more than the worst I have seen of the plague."

"I can easily account for the feeling," groaned Leonard.

"I am happy to say I have prevailed on her, if she does not improve in a short time,—and there is not the slightest chance of it,—to try the effect of a removal to the country. Her father also consents to the plan."

"I am glad to hear it," replied Leonard. "But whither will she go, and who will watch over her?"

"That is not yet settled," rejoined Hodges.

"Oh! that I might be permitted to undertake the office!" cried Leonard, passionately.

"Restrain yourself," said Hodges, in a tone of slight rebuke. "Fitting attendance will be found, if needed."

The conversation then dropped, and they walked briskly forward. They were now within a short distance of the pest-house, and Leonard, hearing footsteps behind him, turned and beheld a closed litter, borne by two stout porters, and evidently containing a plague-patient. He stepped aside to let it pass, when Bell, suddenly pricking her ears, uttered a singular cry, and bursting from him, flew after the litter, leaping against it and barking joyfully. The porters, who were proceeding at a quick pace, tried to drive her away, but without effect, and she continued her cries until they reached the gates of the pest-house. In vain Leonard whistled to her, and called her back. She paid no attention whatever to him.

"I almost begin to fear," said Hodges, unable to repress a shudder, "that the poor animal will, indeed, be the means of discovering for us the object of our search."

"I understand what you mean," rejoined Leonard, "and am of the same opinion as yourself. Heaven grant we may be mistaken!"

And as he spoke, he ran forward, and, followed by Hodges, reached the pest-house just as the litter was taken into it.

"Silence that accursed dog," cried one of the porters, "and bid a nurse attend us. We have a patient for the women's ward."

"Let me see her," cried Hodges. "I am a physician."

"Readily, sir," replied the porter. "It is almost over with her, poor soul! It would have saved time and trouble to take her to the plague-pit at once. She cannot last many hours. Curse the dog! Will it never cease howling?"

Leonard here seized Bell, fearing she might do some mischief, and with a sad foreboding beheld the man draw back the curtains of the litter. His fears proved well founded. There, stretched upon the couch, with her dark hair unbound, and flowing in wild disorder over her neck, lay Nizza Macascree. The ghastly paleness of her face could not, however, entirely rob it of its beauty, and her dark eyes were glazed and lustreless. At the sight of her mistress, poor Bell uttered so piteous a cry, that Leonard, moved by compassion, placed her on the pillow beside her, and the sagacious animal did not attempt to approach nearer, but merely licked her cheek. Roused by the touch, Nizza turned to see what was near her, and recognising the animal, made a movement to strain her to her bosom, but the pain she endured was so intense that she sank back with a deep groan.

"From whom did you receive this young woman?" demanded Hodges, of one of the porters.

"She was brought to us by two richly-attired lacqueys," replied the man, "in this very litter. They paid us to carry her here without loss of time."

"You have an idea whose servants they were?" pursued Hodges.

"Not the least," replied the fellow; "but I should judge, from the richness of their dress, that they belonged to some nobleman."

"Did they belong to the royal household?" inquired Leonard.

"No, no," rejoined the man. "I am certain as to that."

"The poor girl shall not remain here," observed Hodges, to the apprentice. "You must convey her to my residence in Great Knightrider-street," he added, to the porters.

"We will convey her wherever you please," replied the men, "if we are paid for our trouble."

And they were about to close the curtains, when Nizza, having caught sight of the apprentice, slightly raised herself, and cried, in a voice of the utmost anxiety, "Is that you, Leonard?"

"It is," he replied, approaching her.

"Then I shall die happy, since I have seen you once more," she said. "Oh, do not stay near me. You may catch the infection."

"Nizza," said Leonard, disregarding the caution,