safety of his family as your husband."
"I never doubted it, sir," replied Mrs. Bloundel.
"I must apprise you, then, that he has conceived a plan by which he trusts to secure you and his children and household from any future attack," returned Hodges.
"I care not what it is, so it does not separate me from him," replied Mrs. Bloundel.
"It does not," replied the grocer. "It will knit us more closely together than we have yet been. I mean to shut up my house, having previously stored it with provisions for a twelvemonth, and shall suffer no member of my family to stir forth as long as the plague endures."
"I am ready to remain within doors, if it continues twenty years," replied his wife. "But how long do you think it will last, doctor?"
"Till next December, I have no doubt," returned Hodges.
"So long?" exclaimed Amabel.
"Ay, so long," repeated the doctor. "It has scarcely begun now. Your father is right to adopt these precautions. It is the only way to insure the safety of his family."
"But——" cried Amabel.
"I am resolved," interrupted Bloundel, peremptorily. "Who ever leaves the house—if but for a moment—never returns."
"And when do you close it, father?" asked Amabel.
"A week hence," replied the grocer; "as soon as I have laid in a sufficient stock of provisions."
"And am I not to leave the house for a year?" cried Amabel, with a dissatisfied look.
"Why should you wish to leave it?" asked her father, curiously.
"Ay, why?" repeated Leonard, in a low tone. "I shall be here."
Amabel seemed confused, and looked from her father to Leonard. The former, however, did not notice her embarrassment, but observed to Hodges—"I shall begin to victual the house to-morrow."
"Amabel," whispered Leonard, "you told me if I claimed your hand in a month, you would yield it to me. I require the fulfilment of your promise."
"Give me till to-morrow," she replied, distractedly.
"She has seen Rochester," muttered the apprentice, turning away.
II. IN WHAT MANNER THE GROCER VICTUALLED HIS HOUSE.
Leonard Holt was wrong in his suspicions. Amabel had neither seen nor heard from Rochester. But, if the truth must be told, he was never out of her mind, and she found, to her cost, that the heart will not be controlled. Convinced of her noble lover's perfidy, and aware she was acting wrongfully in cherishing a passion for him, after the exposure of his base designs towards herself, no reasoning of which she was capable could banish him from her thoughts, or enable her to transfer her affections to the apprentice.
This conflict of feeling produced its natural result. She became thoughtful and dejected—was often in tears—had no appetite—and could scarcely rouse herself sufficiently to undertake any sort of employment. Her mother watched her with great anxiety, and feared—though she sought to disguise it from herself—what was the real cause of her despondency.
Things were in this position at the end of the month, and it occasioned no surprise to Mrs. Bloundel, though it afflicted her deeply, to find that Amabel sedulously avoided the apprentice's regards on their first meeting. When Doctor Hodges was gone, and the rest of the family had retired, she remarked to her husband, "Before you shut up the house as you propose, I should, wish one important matter settled."
The grocer inquired what she meant.
"I should wish to have Amabel married," was the answer.
"Married!" exclaimed Bloundel, in astonishment. "To whom?"
"To Leonard Holt."
Bloundel could scarcely repress his displeasure.
"It will be time enough to talk of that a year hence," he answered.
"I don't think so," returned his wife; "and now, since the proper time for the disclosure of the secret has arrived, I must tell you that the gallant who called himself Maurice Wyvil, and whom you so much dreaded, was no other than the Earl of Rochester."
"Rochester!" echoed the grocer, while an angry flush stained his cheek; "has that libertine dared to enter my house?"
"Ay, and more than once," replied Mrs. Bloundel.
"Indeed!" cried her husband, with difficulty controlling his indignation. "When was he here?—tell me quickly."
His wife then proceeded to relate all that had occurred, and he listened with profound attention to her recital. At its close, he arose and paced the chamber for some time in great agitation.
At length he suddenly paused, and, regarding his wife with great sternness, observed, in a severe tone, "You have done very wrong in concealing this from me, Honora—very wrong."
"If I have erred, it was to spare you uneasiness," returned Mrs. Bloundel, bursting into tears. "Doctor Hodges agreed with me that it was better not to mention the subject while you had so many other anxieties pressing upon you."
"I have a stout heart, and a firm reliance on the goodness of Heaven, which will enable me to bear up against most evils," returned the grocer. "But on this point I ought, under any circumstances, to have been consulted. And I am greatly surprised that Doctor Hodges should advise the contrary."
"He was influenced, like myself, by the kindliest feelings towards you," sobbed Mrs. Bloundel.
"Well, well, I will not reproach you further," returned the grocer, somewhat moved by her tears. "I have no doubt you conceived you were acting for the best. But I must caution you against such conduct for the future." After a pause, he added, "Is it your opinion that our poor deluded child still entertains any regard for this profligate nobleman?"
"I am sure she does," replied Mrs. Bloundel; "and it is from that conviction that I so strongly urge the necessity of marrying her to Leonard Holt."
"I will never compel her to do anything to endanger her future happiness," returned the grocer. "She must not marry Leonard Holt without loving him. It is better to risk an uncertain evil, than to rush upon a certain one."
"Then I won't answer for the consequences," replied his wife.
"What!" cried Bloundel; "am I to understand you have no reliance on Amabel? Has all our care been thrown away?"
"I do not distrust her," returned Mrs. Bloundel; "but consider whom she has to deal with. She is beset by the handsomest and most fascinating man of the day—by one understood to be practised in all the arts most dangerous to our sex—and a nobleman to boot. Some allowance must be made for her."
"I will make none," rejoined Bloundel, austerely.
