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

prolonged and piercing cry smote his ear; and, looking in the direction of the sound, he perceived a figure running with great swiftness towards the pit. As no pursuers appeared, Leonard could scarcely doubt that this was one of the distracted persons he had heard of, who, in the frenzy produced by the intolerable anguish of their sores, would often rush to the plague-pit and bury themselves, and he therefore resolved, if possible, to prevent the fatal attempt. Accordingly, he placed himself in the way of the runner, and endeavoured, with outstretched arms, to stop him. But the latter dashed him aside with great violence, and hurrying to the brink of the pit, uttered a fearful cry, and exclaiming, "She is here! she is here!—I shall find her amongst them!"—flung himself into the abyss.

As soon as he could shake off the horror inspired by this dreadful action, Leonard ran to the pit, and, gazing into it, beheld him by the imperfect light struggling in the horrible mass in which he was partially immersed. The frenzied man had now, however, begun to repent his rashness, and cried out for aid. But this Leonard found it impossible to afford him; and, seeing he must speedily perish if left to himself, he ran after the dead-cart, and overtaking it just as it reached Moor-gate, informed Chowles what had happened, and begged him to return.

"There will be no use in helping him out," rejoined Chowles, in a tone of indifference. "We shall have to take him back in a couple of hours. No, no—let him remain where he is. There is scarcely a night that some crazy being does not destroy himself in the same way. We never concern ourselves about such persons except to strip them of their apparel."

"Unfeeling wretch!" cried Leonard, unable to restrain his indignation. "Give me your fork, and I will pull him out myself."

Instead of surrendering the implement, Chowles flourished it over his head with the intention of striking the apprentice, but the latter nimbly avoided the blow, and snatching it from his grasp, ran back to the plague-pit. He was followed by Chowles and the burier, who threatened him with loud oaths. Regardless of their menaces, Leonard fixed the hook in the dress of the struggling man, and exerting all his strength, drew him out of the abyss. He had just lodged him in safety on the brink when Chowles and his companion came up.

"Keep off!" cried Leonard, brandishing his fork as he spoke; "you shall neither commit robbery nor murder here. If you will assist this unfortunate gentleman, I have no doubt you will be well rewarded. If not, get hence, or advance at your peril."

"Well," returned Chowles, who began to fancy something might be made of the matter, "if you think we should be rewarded, we would convey the gentleman back to his own home provided we can ascertain where it is. But I am afraid he may die on the way."

"In that case you can apply to his friends," rejoined Leonard. "He must not be abandoned thus."

"First, let us know who he is," returned Chowles. "Is he able to speak?"

"I know not," answered Leonard. "Bring the lantern this way, and let us examine his countenance."

Chowles complied, and held the light over the unfortunate person. His attire was rich, but in great disorder, and sullied by the loathsome mass in which he had been plunged. He was in the flower of youth, and his features must have been remarkable for their grace and beauty, but they were now of a livid hue, and swollen and distorted by pain. Still Leonard recognised them.

"Gracious Heaven!" he exclaimed. "It is Sir Paul Parravicin."

"Sir Paul Parravicin!" echoed Chowles. "By all that's wonderful, so it is! Here is a lucky chance! Bring the dead-cart hither, Jonas—quick, quick! I shall put him under the care of Judith Malmayns."

And the burier hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Had I known who it was," exclaimed Leonard, gazing with abhorrence at the miserable object before him, "I would have left him to die the death he so richly merits!"

A deep groan broke from the sufferer.

"Have no fear, Sir Paul," said Chowles. "You are in good hands. Every care shall be taken of you, and you shall be cured by Judith Malmayns."

"She shall not come near me," rejoined Parravicin, faintly. "You will take care of me?" he added in an imploring tone, to Leonard.

"You appeal in vain to me," rejoined the apprentice, sternly. "You are justly punished for your treatment of Nizza Macascree."

"I am—I am," groaned Parravicin, "but she will be speedily avenged. I shall soon join her in that pit."

"She is not there," replied Leonard, bitterly, "She is fast recovering from the plague."

"Is she not dead?" demanded Parravicin, with frightful eagerness. "I was told she was thrown into that horrible chasm."

"You were deceived," replied Leonard. "She was taken to the pest-house by your orders, and would have perished if she had not found a friend to aid her. She is now out of danger."

"Then I no longer desire to die," cried Parravicin, desperately. "I will live—live."

"Do not delude yourself," replied Leonard, coldly; "you have little chance of recovery, and should employ the short time left you in praying to Heaven for forgiveness of your sins."

"Tush!" exclaimed Parravicin, fiercely, "I shall not weary Heaven with ineffectual supplications. I well know I am past all forgiveness. No," he added, with a fearful imprecation, "since Nizza is alive, I will not die."

"Right, Sir Paul, right," rejoined Chowles; "put a bold face on it, and I will answer for it you will get over the attack. Have no fear of Judith Malmayns," he added, in a significant tone. "However she may treat others, she will cure you."

"I will make it worth her while to do so," rejoined Parravicin.

"Here is the cart," cried Chowles, seeing the vehicle approach. "I will take you in the first place to Saint Paul's. Judith must see you as soon as possible."

"Take me where you please," rejoined Parravicin, faintly; "and remember what I have said. If I die, the nurse will get nothing—if I am cured, she shall be proportionately rewarded."

"I will not forget it," replied Chowles. And with the help of Jonas he placed the knight carefully in the cart. "You need not trouble yourself further about him," he added to Leonard.

"Before he quits this place I must know who he is," rejoined the latter, placing himself at the horse's head.

"You know his name as well as I do," replied Chowles.

"Parravicin is not his real name," rejoined Leonard.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Chowles, "this is news to me. But no matter who he is, he is rich enough to pay well. So stand aside, and let us go. We have no time to waste in further parleying."

"I will not move till my question is answered," replied Leonard.