"But are the doctor's fees exorbitant?"
"To the last degree," replied Parkhurst. "I am afraid to state how much
he asks."
"I fear I shall not be able to consult him, then," said Blaize, turning
over the coin in his pocket; "and yet I should greatly like to do so."
"Have no fear on that score," returned the apothecary. "I have been able
to render him an important service, and he will do anything for me. He
shall give you his advice gratis."
"Thank you! thank you!" cried Blaize, transported with delight.
"Wait here a moment, and I will ascertain whether he will see you,"
replied Parkhurst.
So saying, he quitted the porter, who amused himself during his absence
by studying the labels affixed to the jars and bottles on the shelves.
He had much ado to restrain himself from opening some of them, and
tasting their contents.
Full a quarter of an hour elapsed before the apothecary appeared.
"I am sorry to have detained you so long," he said; "but I had more
difficulty with the doctor than I expected, and for some time he refused
to see you on any terms, because he has a violent antipathy to Doctor
Hodges, whom he regards as a mere pretender, and whose patient he
conceives you to be."
"I am not Doctor Hodges' patient," returned Blaize; "and I regard him as
a pretender myself."
"That opinion will recommend you to Doctor Bottesham," replied
Parkhurst; "and since I have smoothed the way for you, you will find him
very affable and condescending. He has often heard me speak of your
master; and if it were not for his dislike of Doctor Hodges, whom he
might accidentally encounter, he would call upon him."
"I wish I could get my master to employ him instead of the other," said
Blaize.
"I wish so too," cried Parkhurst, eagerly. "Do you think it could be
managed?"
"I fear not," returned Blaize.
"There would be no harm in making the trial," replied Parkhurst. "But
you shall now see the learned gentleman. I ought to apprise you that he
has two friends with him--one a young gallant, named Hawkswood, whom he
has recently cured of the distemper, and who is so much attached to him
that he never leaves him; the other, a doctor, like himself, named
Martin Furbisher, who always accompanies him in his visits to his
patients, and prepares his mixtures for him. You must not be surprised
at their appearance. And now come with me."
With this, he led the way into a small room at the back of the shop,
where three personages were seated at the table, with a flask of wine
and glasses before them. Blaize detected Doctor Bottesham at a glance.
He was an ancient-looking man, clad in a suit of rusty black, over which
was thrown a velvet robe, very much soiled and faded, but originally
trimmed with fur, and lined with yellow silk. His powers of vision
appeared to be feeble, for he wore a large green shade over his eyes,
and a pair of spectacles of the same colour. A venerable white beard
descended almost to his waist. His head was protected by a long flowing
grey wig, over which he wore a black velvet cap. His shoulders were high
and round, his back bent, and he evidently required support when he
moved, as a crutch-headed staff was reared against his chair. On his
left was a young, handsome, and richly-attired gallant, answering to the
apothecary's description of Hawkswood; and on the right sat a stout
personage precisely habited like himself, except that he wore a
broad-leaved hat, which completely overshadowed his features.
Notwithstanding this attempt at concealment, it was easy to perceive
that Doctor Furbisher's face was covered with scars, that he had a
rubicund nose, studded with carbuncles, and a black patch over his left
eye.
"Is this the young man who desires to consult me?" asked Doctor Calixtus
Bottesham, in the cracked and quavering voice of old age, of Parkhurst.
"It is," replied the apothecary, respectfully. "Go forward," he added to
Blaize, "and speak for yourself."
"What ails you?" pursued Bottesham, gazing at him through his
spectacles. "You look strong and hearty."
"So I am, learned sir," replied Blaize, bowing to the ground; "but
understanding from Mr. Parkhurst that you have an infallible remedy
against the plague, I would gladly procure it from you, as, if I should
be attacked, I may not have an opportunity of consulting you."
"Why not?" demanded Bottesham. "I will come to you if you send for me."
"Because," replied Blaize, after a moment's hesitation, "my master is
about to shut up his house, and no one will be allowed to go forth, or
to enter it, till the pestilence is at an end."
"Your master must be mad to think of such a thing," rejoined Bottesham.
"What say you, brother Furbisher?--is that the way to keep off the
plague?"
"Gallipots of Galen! no," returned the other; "it is rather the way to
invite its assaults."
"When does your master talk of putting this fatal design--for fatal it
will be to him and all his household--into execution?" demanded
Bottesham.
"Very shortly, I believe," replied Blaize. "He meant to begin on the
first of June, but as the pestilence is less violent than it was, Doctor
Hodges has induced him to defer his purpose for a few days."
"Doctor Hodges!" exclaimed Bottesham, contemptuously. "It was an
unfortunate day for your master when he admitted that sack-drinking
impostor into his house."
"I have no great opinion of his skill," replied Blaize, "but,
nevertheless, it must be admitted that he cured Master Stephen in a
wonderful manner."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Bottesham, "that was mere accident. I heard the
particulars of the case from Parkhurst, and am satisfied the youth would
have recovered without his aid. But what a barbarian Mr. Bloundel must
be to think of imprisoning his family in this way!"
"He certainly does not consult my inclinations in the matter," returned
Blaize.
"Nor those of his wife and daughter, I should imagine," continued
Bottesham. "How do _they_ like it?"
"I cannot exactly say," answered Blaize. "What a dreadful thing it would
be if I should be attacked by the plague, and no assistance could be
procured!"
"It would be still more dreadful if so angelic a creature as Bloundel's
daughter is represented to be--for I have never seen her--should be so
seized," observed Bottesham. "I feel so much interested about her that I
would do anything to preserve her from the fate with which she is
menaced."
"Were it not inconsistent with your years, learned sir, I might suspect
you of a tenderer feeling towards her," observed Blaize, archly. "But,
in good sooth, her charms are so extraordinary, that I should not be
surprised at any effect they might produce."
"They would produce no effect on me," replied Bottesham. "I am long past
such feelings. But in regard to yourself. You say you are afraid of the
plague. I will give you an electuary to drive away the panic;" and he
produced a small jar, and handed it to the porter. "It is composed of
conserve of roses, gillyflowers, borage, candied citron, powder of
_laetificans Galeni_, Roman zedoary, doronicum, and saffron. You must
take about the quantity of a large nutmeg, morning and evening."
"You make me for ever your debtor, learned sir," rejoined Blaize. "What
a charming mixture!"
"I will also add my remedy," said Furbisher. "It is a powder compounded
of crabs' eyes, burnt hartshorn, the black tops of crabs' claws, the
bone from a stag's heart, unicorn's horn, and salt of vipers. You must
take one or two drams--not more--in a glass of hot posset-drink, when
you go to bed, and swallow another draught of the same potion to wash it
down."
"I will carefully observe your directions," replied Blaize, thankfully
receiving the powder.
"Of all things," said Bottesham, claiming the porter's attention by
tapping him on the head with his cane, "take care never to be without
vinegar. It is the grand specific, not merely against the plague, but
against all disorders. It is food and physic, meat and medicine, drink
and julep, cordial and antidote. If you formerly took it as a sauce, now
take it as a remedy. To the sound it is a preservative from sickness, to
the sick, a restorative to health. It is like the sword which is worn
not merely for ornament, but for defence. Vinegar is my remedy against
the plague. It is a simple remedy, but an effectual one. I have cured a
thousand patients with it, and hope to cure a thousand more. Take
vinegar with all you eat, and flavour all you drink with it. Has the
plague taken away your appetite, vinegar will renew it. Is your throat
ulcerated, use vinegar as a gargle. Are you disturbed with phlegmatic
humours, vinegar will remove them. Is your brain laden with vapours,
throw vinegar on a hot shovel, and inhale its fumes, and you will obtain
instantaneous relief. Have you the headache, wet a napkin in vinegar,
and apply it to your temples, and the pain will cease. In short, there
is no ailment that vinegar will not cure. It is the grand panacea; and
may be termed the elixir of long life."
"I wonder its virtues have not been found out before," observed Blaize,
innocently.
"It is surprising how slow men are in discovering the most obvious
truths," replied Bottesham. "But take my advice, and never be without
it."
"I never will," returned Blaize. "Heaven be praised, my master has just
ordered in three tuns. I'll tap one of them directly."
"That idea of the vinegar remedy is borrowed from Kemp's late treatise
on the pestilence and its cure," muttered Furbisher. "Before you enter
upon the new system, young man," he added aloud to Blaize, "let me
recommend you to fortify your stomach with a glass of canary."
And pouring out a bumper, he handed it to the porter, who swallowed it
at a draught.
"And now," said Bottesham, "to return to this mad scheme of your
master's--is there no way of preventing it?"
"I am aware of none," replied Blaize.
"Bolts and bars!" cried Furbisher, "something must be done for the fair
Amabel. We owe it to society not to permit so lovely a creature to be
thus immured. What say you, Hawkswood?" he added to the gallant by his
side, who had not hitherto spoken.
"It would be unpardonable to permit it--quite unpardonable," replied
this person.
"Might not some plan be devised to remove her for a short time, and
frighten him out of his project?" said Bottesham. "I would willingly
assist in such a scheme. I pledge you in a bumper, young man. You appear
a trusty servant."
"I am so accounted, learned sir," replied Blaize, upon whose brain the
wine thus plentifully bestowed began to operate--"and I may add, justly
so."
"You really will be doing your master a service if you can prevent him
from committing this folly," rejoined Bottesham.
"Let us have a bottle of burnt malmsey, with a few bruised raisins in
it, Mr. Parkhurst. This poor young man requires support. Be seated,
friend."
With some hesitation, Blaize complied, and while the apothecary went in
search of the wine, he observed to Bottesham, "I would gladly comply
with your suggestion, learned sir, if I saw any means of doing so."
"Could you not pretend to have the plague?" said Bottesham. "I could
then attend you."
"I should be afraid of playing such a trick as that," replied Blaize.
"Besides, I do not see what purpose it would answer."
"It would enable me to get into the house," returned Bottesham, "and
then I might take measures for Amabel's deliverance."
"If you merely wish to get into the house," replied Blaize, "that can be
easily managed. I will admit you this evening."
"Without your master's knowledge?" asked Bottesham, eagerly.
"Of course," returned Blaize.
"But he has an apprentice?" said the doctor.
"Oh! you mean Leonard Holt," replied Blaize. "Yes, we must take care he
doesn't see you. If you come about nine o'clock, he will be engaged with
my master in putting away the things in the shop."
"I will be punctual," replied Bottesham, "and will bring Doctor
Furbisher with me. We will only stay a few minutes. But here comes the
burnt malmsey. Fill the young man's glass, Parkhurst. I will insure you
against the plague, if you will follow my advice."
"But will you insure me against my master's displeasure, if he finds me
out?" said Blaize.
"I will provide you with a new one," returned Bottesham. "You shall
serve me if you wish to change your place."
"That would answer my purpose exactly," thought Blaize. "I need never be
afraid of the plague if I live with him. I will turn over your proposal,
learned sir," he added, aloud.
After priming him with another bumper of malmsey, Blaise's new friends
suffered him to depart. On returning home, he proceeded to his own room,
and feeling unusually drowsy, he threw himself on the bed, and almost
instantly dropped asleep. When he awoke, the fumes of the liquor had, in
a great degree, evaporated, and he recalled, with considerable
self-reproach, the promise he had given, and would gladly have recalled
it, if it had been possible. But it was now not far from the appointed
hour, and he momentarily expected the arrival of the two doctors. The
only thing that consoled him was the store of medicine he had obtained,
and, locking it up in his cupboard, he descended to the kitchen.
Fortunately, his mother was from home, so that he ran no risk from her;
and, finding Patience alone, after some hesitation, he let her into the
secret of his anticipated visitors. She was greatly surprised, and
expressed much uneasiness lest they should be discovered; as, if they
were so, it would be sure to bring them both into trouble.
"What can they want with Mistress Amabel?" she cried. "I should not
wonder if Doctor Calixtus Bottesham, as you call him, turns out a lover
in disguise."
"A lover!" exclaimed Blaize. "Your silly head is always running upon
lovers. He's an old man--old enough to be your grandfather, with a long
white beard, reaching to his waist. He a lover! Mr. Bloundel is much
more like one."
"For all that, it looks suspicious," returned Patience; "and I shall
have my eyes about me on their arrival."
Shortly after this, Blaize crept cautiously up to the back yard, and,
opening the door, found, as he expected, Bottesham and his companion.
Motioning them to follow him, he led the way to the kitchen, where they
arrived without observation. Patience eyed the new-comers narrowly, and
felt almost certain, from their appearance and manner, that her
suspicions were correct. All doubts were removed when Bottesham,
slipping a purse into her hand, entreated her, on some plea or other, to
induce Amabel to come into the kitchen. At first she hesitated; but
having a tender heart, inclining her to assist rather than oppose the
course of any love-affair, her scruples were soon overcome. Accordingly
she hurried upstairs, and chancing to meet with her young mistress, who
was about to retire to her own chamber, entreated her to come down with
her for a moment in the kitchen. Thinking it some unimportant matter,
but yet wondering why Patience should appear so urgent, Amabel complied.
She was still more perplexed when she saw the two strangers, and would
have instantly retired if Bottesham had not detained her.
"You will pardon the liberty I have taken in sending for you," he said,
"when I explain that I have done so to offer you counsel."
"I am as much at a loss to understand what counsel you can have to
offer, sir, as to guess why you are here," she replied.
"Amabel," returned Bottesham, in a low tone, but altering his voice, and
slightly raising his spectacles so as to disclose his features; "it is
I--Maurice Wyvil."
"Ah!" she exclaimed, in the utmost astonishment.
"I told you we should meet again," he rejoined; "and I have kept my
word."
"Think not to deceive me, my lord," she returned, controlling her
emotion by a powerful effort. "I am aware you are not Maurice Wyvil, but
the Earl of Rochester. Your love is as false as your character. Mistress
Mallet is the real object of your regards. You see I am acquainted with
your perfidy."
"Amabel, you are deceived," replied Rochester. "On my soul, you are.
When I have an opportunity of explaining myself more fully, I will prove
to you that I was induced by the king, for an especial purpose, to pay
feigned addresses to the lady you have named. But I never loved her. You
alone are the possessor of my heart, and shall be the sharer of my
title. You shall be Countess of Rochester."
"Could I believe you?" she cried.
"You _may_ believe me," he answered. "Do not blight my hopes and your
own happiness a second time. Your father is about to shut up his house
for a twelvemonth, if the plague lasts so long. This done, we shall meet
no more, for access to you will be impossible. Do not hesitate, or you
will for ever rue your irresolution."
"I know not what to do," cried Amabel, distractedly.
"Then I will decide for you," replied the earl, grasping her hand.
"Come!"
While this was passing, Furbisher, or rather, as will be surmised,
Pillichody, had taken Blaize aside, and engaged his attention by
dilating upon the efficacy of a roasted onion filled with treacle in the
expulsion of the plague. Patience stationed herself near the door, not
with a view of interfering with the lovers, but rather of assisting
them; and at the very moment that the earl seized his mistress's hand,
and would have drawn her forward, she ran towards them, and hastily
whispered, "Leonard Holt is coming downstairs."
"Ah! I am lost!" cried Amabel.
"Fear nothing," said the earl. "Keep near me, and I will soon dispose of
him."
As he spoke, the apprentice entered the kitchen, and, greatly surprised
by the appearance of the strangers, angrily demanded from Blaize who
they were.
"They are two doctors come to give me advice respecting the plague,"
stammered the porter.
"How did they get into the house?" inquired Leonard.
"I let them in through the back door," replied Blaize.
"Then let them out by the same way," rejoined the apprentice. "May I ask
what you are doing here?" he added, to Amabel.
"What is that to you, fellow?" cried Rochester, in his assumed voice.
"Much, as you shall find, my lord," replied the apprentice; "for, in
spite of your disguise, I know you. Quit the house instantly with your
companion, or I will give the alarm, and Amabel well knows what the
consequences will be."
"You must go, my lord," she replied.
"I will not stir unless you accompany me," said Rochester.
"Then I have no alternative," rejoined Leonard. "You know your father's
determination--I would willingly spare you, Amabel."
"Oh, goodness! what _will_ become of us?" cried Patience--"if there
isn't Mr. Bloundel coming downstairs."
"Amabel," said Leonard, sternly, "the next moment decides your fate. If
the earl departs, I will keep your secret."
"You hear that, my lord," she cried; "I command you to leave me."
And disengaging herself from him, and hastily passing her father, who at
that moment entered the kitchen, she rushed upstairs.
On hearing the alarm of the grocer's approach, Pillichody took refuge in
a cupboard, the door of which stood invitingly open, so that Bloundel
only perceived the earl.
"What is the matter?" he cried, gazing around him. "Whom have we here?"
"It is a quack doctor, whom Blaize has been consulting about the
plague," returned Leonard.
"See him instantly out of the house," rejoined the grocer, angrily, "and
take care he never enters it again. I will have no such charlatans
here."
Leonard motioned Rochester to follow him, and the latter reluctantly
obeyed.
As soon as Bloundel had retired, Leonard, who had meanwhile provided
himself with his cudgel, descended to the kitchen, where he dragged
Pillichody from his hiding-place, and conducted him to the back door.
But he did not suffer him to depart without belabouring him soundly.
Locking the door, he then went in search of Blaize, and administered a
similar chastisement to him.
IV. THE TWO WATCHMEN.
On the day following the events last related, as Leonard Holt was
standing at the door of the shop,--his master having just been called
out by some important business,--a man in the dress of a watchman, with
a halberd in his hand, approached him, and inquired if he was Mr.
Bloundel's apprentice.
Before returning an answer, Leonard looked hard at the newcomer, and
thought he had never beheld so ill-favoured a person before. Every
feature in his face was distorted. His mouth was twisted on one side,
his nose on the other, while his right eyebrow was elevated more than an
inch above the left; added to which he squinted intolerably, had a long
fell of straight sandy hair, a sandy beard and moustache, and a
complexion of the colour of brickdust.
"An ugly dog," muttered Leonard to himself, as he finished his scrutiny;
"what can he want with me? Suppose I should be Mr. Bloundel's
apprentice," he added, aloud, "what then, friend?"
"Your master has a beautiful daughter, has he not?" asked the
ill-favoured watchman.
"I answer no idle questions," rejoined Leonard, coldly.
"As you please," returned the other, in an offended tone. "A plan to
carry her off has accidentally come to my knowledge. But, since
incivility is all I am likely to get for my pains in coming to acquaint
you with it, e'en find it out yourself."
"Hold!" cried the apprentice, detaining him; "I meant no offence. Step
indoors for a moment. We can converse there more freely."
The watchman, who, notwithstanding his ill-looks, appeared to be a
good-natured fellow, was easily appeased. Following the apprentice into
the shop, on the promise of a handsome reward, he instantly commenced
his relation.
"Last night," he said, "I was keeping watch at the door of Mr. Brackley,
a saddler in Aldermanbury, whose house having been attacked by the
pestilence is now shut up, when I observed two persons, rather
singularly attired, pass me. Both were dressed like old men, but neither
their gait nor tone of voice corresponded with their garb."
"It must have been the Earl of Rochester and his companion," remarked
Leonard.
"You are right," replied the other; "for I afterwards heard one of them
addressed by that title. But to proceed. I was so much struck by the
strangeness of their appearance, that I left my post for a few minutes,
and followed them. They halted beneath a gateway, and, as they conversed
together very earnestly, and in a loud tone, I could distinctly hear
what they said. One of them, the stoutest of the two, complained
bitterly of the indignities he had received from Mr. Bloundel's
apprentice (meaning you, of course), averring that nothing but his
devotion to his companion had induced him to submit to them; and
affirming, with many tremendous oaths, that he would certainly cut the
young man's throat the very first opportunity."
"He shall not want it then," replied Leonard contemptuously; "neither
shall he lack a second application of my cudgel when we meet. But what
of his companion? What did he say?"
"He laughed heartily at the other's complaints," returned the watchman,
"and told him to make himself easy, for he should soon have his revenge.
'To-morrow night,' he said, 'we will carry off Amabel, in spite of the
apprentice or her father; and, as I am equally indebted with yourself to
the latter, we will pay off old scores with him.'"
"How do they intend to effect their purpose?" demanded Leonard.
"That I cannot precisely tell," replied the watchman. "All I could hear
was, that they meant to enter the house by the back yard about midnight.
And now, if you will make it worth my while, I will help you to catch
them in their own trap."
"Hum!" said Leonard. "What is your name?"
"Gregory Swindlehurst," replied the other.
"To help me, you must keep watch with me to-night," rejoined Leonard.
"Can you do so?"
"I see nothing to hinder me, provided I am paid for my trouble," replied
Gregory. "I will find some one to take my place at Mr. Brackley's. At
what hour shall I come?"
"Soon after ten," said Leonard. "Be at the shop-door, and I will let you
in."
"Count upon me," rejoined Gregory, a smile of satisfaction illumining
his ill-favoured countenance. "Shall I bring a comrade with me? I know a
trusty fellow who would like the job. If Lord Rochester should have his
companions with him, assistance will be required."
"True," replied Leonard. "Is your comrade a watchman, like yourself?"