“God be praised!” exclaimed Bloundel,
falling on his knees.
Hodges then gave minute directions to the grocer as
to how he was to proceed, and told him it would be
necessary for some time to keep his family separate.
To this Bloundel readily agreed. The doctor’s
next inquiries were, whether notice had been given
to the Examiner of Health, and the grocer referring
to Leonard, the latter acknowledged that he had forgotten
it, but undertook to repair his omission at once.
With this view, he quitted the room, and was hastening
towards the shop, when he observed a figure on the
back stairs. Quickly mounting them, he overtook
on the landing Maurice Wyvil.
* * * *
*
THE GAMESTER AND THE BULLY.
Before proceeding further, it will be necessary to
retrace our steps for a short time, and see what was
done by Maurice Wyvil after the alarming announcement
made to him by the apprentice. Of a selfish nature
and ungovernable temper, and seeking only in the pursuit
of the grocer’s daughter the gratification of
his lawless desires, he was filled, in the first instance,
with furious disappointment at being robbed of the
prize, at the very moment he expected it to fall into
his hands. But this feeling was quickly effaced
by anxiety respecting his mistress, whose charms,
now that there was every probability of losing her
(for Leonard’s insinuation had led him to believe
she was assailed by the pestilence), appeared doubly
attractive to him; and scarcely under the governance
of reason, he hurried towards Wood-street, resolved
to force his way into the house, and see her again,
at all hazards. His wild design, however, was
fortunately prevented. As he passed the end of
the court leading to the ancient inn (for it was ancient
even at the time of this history), the Swan-with-two-Necks,
in Lad-lane, a young man, as richly attired as himself,
and about his own age, who had seen him approaching,
suddenly darted from it, and grasping his cloak, detained
him.
“I thought it must be you, Wyvil,” cried
this person. “Where are you running so
quickly? I see neither angry father, nor jealous
apprentice, at your heels. What has become of
the girl? Are you tired of her already?”
“Let me go, Lydyard,” returned Wyvil,
trying to extricate himself from his companion’s
hold, who was no other than the gallant that had accompanied
him on his first visit to the grocer’s shop,
and had played his part so adroitly in the scheme
devised between them to procure an interview with
Amabel,—“let me go, I say, I am in
no mood for jesting.”
“Why, what the plague is the matter?”
rejoined Lydyard. “Has your mistress played
you false? Have you lost your wager?”
“The plague is the matter,” replied
Wyvil, sternly. “Amabel is attacked by
it. I must see her instantly.”
“The devil!” exclaimed Lydyard. “Here
is a pretty termination to the affair. But if
this is really the case, you must not see her.
It is one thing to be run through the arm,—which
you must own I managed as dexterously as the best
master of fence could have done,—and lose
a few drops of blood for a mistress, but it is another
to brave the plague on her account.”
