hand, appeared unwilling to move. Apprehensive of a discovery, Mrs. Bloundel then directed the gallant to the back staircase, and he had got about halfway down, when he was surprised by Leonard Holt, as before related.
At the very moment that Wyvil was overtaken on the landing by the apprentice, Amabel appeared at the door of her chamber with a light. The different emotions of each party at this unexpected rencontre may be imagined. Leonard Holt, with a breast boiling with jealous rage, prepared to attack his rival. He had no weapon about him, having left his cudgel in the shop, but he doubled his fists, and, nerved by passion, felt he had the force of a Hercules in his arm. Wyvil, in his turn, kept his hand upon his sword, and glanced at his mistress, as if seeking instructions how to act. At length, Mrs. Bloundel, who formed one of the group, spoke.
"Leonard Holt," she said, "show this person out at the door. Do not lose sight of him for an instant; and, as soon as he is gone, try to find out how he entered the house."
"He entered it like a robber," returned Leonard, looking fiercely at the gallant, "and if I did my strict duty, I should seize him and give him in charge to the watch. He has come here for the purpose of stealing my master's chief valuable—his daughter."
"I am aware of it," replied Mrs. Bloundel, "and nothing but consideration for my husband prevents my delivering him up to justice. As it is, he may go free. But should he return—"
"If I catch him here again," interrupted Leonard, "I will shoot him as I would a dog, though I should be hanged for the deed. Have you considered well what you are doing, madam? I would not presume beyond my station, but there are seasons when an inferior may give wholesome advice. Are you certain you are acting as your worthy husband would, in allowing this person to depart? If you have any doubt, speak. Fear nothing. Unarmed as I am, I am a match for him, and will detain him."
"Do not heed what Leonard says, dear mother," interposed Amabel. "For my sake, let Mr. Wyvil go."
"I have considered the matter, Leonard," returned Mrs. Bloundel, "and trust I am acting rightly. At all events, I am sure I am sparing my husband pain."
"It is mistaken tenderness," rejoined Leonard, "and Heaven grant you may not have cause to repent it. If I had your permission, I would so deal with this audacious intruder, that he should never venture to repeat his visit."
"You know that you speak safely, fellow," rejoined Wyvil, "and you, therefore, give full license to your scurrile tongue. But a time will come when I will chastise your insolence."
"No more of this," cried Mrs. Bloundel. "Do as I bid you, Leonard; and, as you value my regard, say nothing of what has occurred to your master."
Sullenly acquiescing, the apprentice preceded Wyvil to the shop, and opened the door.
As the other passed through it, he said, "You spoke of chastising me just now. If you have courage enough—which I doubt—to make good your words, and will wait for me for five minutes, near Saint Alban's Church in this street, you shall have the opportunity."
Wyvil did not deign a reply, but wrapping his cloak around him, strode away. He had not proceeded far, when it occurred to him that, possibly, notwithstanding his interdiction, some of his companions might be waiting for him, and hurrying down the passage leading to the yard, he found Lydyard, to whom he recounted his ill-success.
"I shall not, however, abandon my design," he said. "These failures are only incentives to further exertion."
"In the meantime, you must pay your wager to Sedley," laughed Lydyard, "and as the house is really infected with the plague, it behoves you to call at the first apothecary's shop we find open, and get your apparel fumigated. You must not neglect due precautions."
"True," replied Wyvil, "and as I feel too restless to go home at present, suppose we amuse ourselves by calling on some astrologer, to see whether the stars are favourable to my pursuit of this girl."
"A good idea," replied Lydyard. "There are plenty of the 'Sons of Urania,' as they term themselves, hereabouts.
"A mere juggler will not serve my turn," returned Wyvil.
"William Lilly, the almanack-maker, who predicted the plague, and, if old Rowley is to be believed, has great skill in the occult sciences, lives somewhere in Friday-street, not a stone's throw from this place. Let us go and find him out."
"Agreed," replied Lydyard.
V.
THE POMANDER-BOX
Any doubts entertained by Leonard Holt as to the manner in which his rival entered the house, were removed by discovering the open window in the passage and the rope-ladder hanging to the yard-wall. Taking the ladder away, and making all as secure as he could, he next seized his cudgel, and proceeded to Blaize's room, with the intention of inflicting upon him the punishment he had threatened: for he naturally enough attributed to the porter's carelessness all the mischief that had just occurred. Not meeting with him, however, and concluding he was in the kitchen, he descended thither, and found him in such a pitiable plight, that his wrath was instantly changed to compassion.
Stretched upon the hearth before a blazing sea-coal fire, which seemed large enough to roast him, with his head resting upon the lap of Patience, the pretty kitchen-maid, and his left hand upon his heart, the porter loudly complained of a fixed and burning pain in that region; while his mother, who was kneeling beside him, having just poured a basin of scalding posset-drink down his throat, entreated him to let her examine his side to see whether he had any pestilential mark upon it, but he vehemently resisted her efforts.
"Do you feel any swelling, myn lief zoon?" asked old Josyna, trying to remove his hand.
"Swelling!" ejaculated Blaize,—"there's a tumour as big as an egg."
"Is id possible?" exclaimed Josyna, in great alarm. "Do let me look ad id."
"No, no, leave me alone," rejoined Blaize. "Don't disturb me further.
You will catch the distemper if you touch the sore."
"Dat wond hinder me from drying to zaave you," replied his mother, affectionately. "I must see vad is de madder vid you, or I cannod cure you."
"I am past your doctoring, mother," groaned Blaize. "Leave me alone, I say. You hurt me shockingly!"
"Poor child!" cried Josyna, soothingly, "I'll be as dender as possible.
I'll nod give you de leasd pain—nod de leasd bid."
"But I tell you, you do give me a great deal," rejoined Blaize. "I can't bear it. Your fingers are like iron nails. Keep them away."
"Bless us! did I ever hear de like of dad!" exclaimed Josyna. "Iron nails! if you think so, myn arm zoon, you musd be very ill indeed."
"I am very ill," groaned her son. "I am not long for this world."
"Oh! don't say so, dear Blaize," sobbed Patience, letting fall a plentiful shower of tears on his face. "Don't say so. I can't bear to part with you."
"Then don't survive me," returned Blaize. "But there's little chance of your doing so. You are certain to take the plague."
"I care not what becomes of myself, if I lose you, Blaize," responded Patience, bedewing his countenance with another shower; "but I hope you won't die yet."
"Ah! it's all over with me—all over," rejoined Blaize. "I told Leonard
