infected houses," replied Gregory. "We must take care his lordship does
not overreach us."
"If he gets into the house without my knowledge, I will forgive him,"
replied the apprentice.
"He won't get into it without mine," muttered Gregory, significantly.
"But do you not mean to warn Mistress Amabel of her danger?"
"I shall consider of it," replied the apprentice.
At this moment Mr. Bloundel entered the shop, and Leonard, feigning to
supply his companion with a small packet of grocery, desired him, in a
low tone, to be punctual to his appointment, and dismissed him. In
justice to the apprentice, it must be stated that he had no wish for
concealment, but was most anxious to acquaint his master with the
information he had just obtained, and was only deterred from doing so by
a dread of the consequences it might produce to Amabel.
The evening passed off much as usual. The family assembled at prayer;
and Blaize, whose shoulders still ached with the chastisement he had
received, eyed the apprentice with sullen and revengeful looks.
Patience, too, was equally angry, and her indignation was evinced in a
manner so droll, that at another season it would have drawn a smile from
Leonard.
Supper over, Amabel left the room. Leonard followed her, and overtook
her on the landing of the stairs.
"Amabel," he said, "I have received certain intelligence that the Earl
of Rochester will make another attempt to enter the house, and carry you
off to-night."
"Oh! when will he cease from persecuting me?" she cried.
"When you cease to encourage him," replied the apprentice, bitterly.
"I do _not_ encourage him, Leonard," she rejoined, "and to prove that I
do not, I will act in any way you think proper tonight."
"If I could trust you," said Leonard, "you might be of the greatest
service in convincing the earl that his efforts are fruitless."
"You _may_ trust me," she rejoined.
"Well, then," returned Leonard, "when the family have retired to rest,
come downstairs, and I will tell you what to do."
Hastily promising compliance, Amabel disappeared; and Leonard ran down
the stairs, at the foot of which he encountered Mrs. Bloundel.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
"Nothing--nothing," replied the apprentice, evasively.
"That-will not serve my turn," she rejoined. "Something, I am certain,
troubles you, though you do not choose to confess it. Heaven grant your
anxiety is not occasioned by aught relating to that wicked Earl of
Rochester! I cannot sleep in my bed for thinking of him. I noticed that
you followed Amabel out of the room. I hope you do not suspect
anything."
"Do not question me further, madam, I entreat," returned the apprentice.
"Whatever I may suspect, I have taken all needful precautions. Rest
easy, and sleep soundly, if you can. All will go well."
"I shall never rest easy, Leonard," rejoined Mrs. Bloundel, "till you
are wedded to my daughter. Then, indeed, I shall feel happy. My poor
child, I am sure, is fully aware how indiscreet her conduct has been;
and when this noble libertine desists from annoying her--or rather, when
he is effectually shut out--we may hope for a return of her regard for
you."
"It is a vain hope, madam," replied Leonard; "there will be no such
return. I neither expect it nor desire it."
"Have you ceased to love her?" asked Mrs. Bloundel, in surprise.
"Ceased to love her!" echoed Leonard, fiercely. "Would I had done
so!--would I _could_ do so! I love her too well--too well."
And repeating the words to himself with great bitterness, he hurried
away.
"His passion has disturbed his brain," sighed Mrs. Bloundel, as she
proceeded to her chamber. "I must try to reason him into calmness
to-morrow."
Half an hour after this, the grocer retired for the night; and Leonard,
who had gone to his own room, cautiously opened the door, and repaired
to the shop. On the way he met Amabel. She looked pale as death, and
trembled so violently, that she could scarcely support herself.
"I hope you do not mean to use any violence towards the earl, Leonard?"
she said in a supplicating voice.
"He will never repeat his visit," rejoined the apprentice, gloomily.
"Your looks terrify me," cried Amabel, gazing with great uneasiness at
his stern and determined countenance. "I will remain by you. He will
depart at my bidding."
"Did he depart at your bidding before?" demanded Leonard, sarcastically.
"He did not, I grant," she replied, more supplicatingly than before.
"But do not harm him--for mercy's sake, do not--take my life sooner. I
alone have offended you."
The apprentice made no reply, but, unlocking a box, took out a brace of
large horse-pistols and a sword, and thrust them into his girdle.
"You do not mean to use those murderous weapons?" cried Amabel.
"It depends on circumstances," replied Leonard. "Force must be met by
force."
"Nay, then," she rejoined, "the affair assumes too serious an aspect to
be trifled with. I will instantly alarm my father."
"Do so," retorted Leonard, "and he will cast you off for ever."
"Better that, than be the cause of bloodshed," she returned. "But is
there nothing I can do to prevent this fatal result?"
"Yes," replied Leonard. "Make your lover understand he is unwelcome to
you. Dismiss him for ever. On that condition, he shall depart unharmed
and freely."
"I will do so," she rejoined.
Nothing more was then said. Amabel seated herself and kept her eyes
fixed on Leonard, who, avoiding her regards, stationed himself near the
door.
By-and-by a slight tap was heard without, and the apprentice cautiously
admitted Gregory Swindlehurst and his comrade. The latter was habited
like the other watchman, in a blue night-rail, and was armed with a
halberd. He appeared much stouter, much older, and, so far as could be
discovered of his features--for a large handkerchief muffled his
face--much uglier (if that were possible) than his companion. He
answered to the name of Bernard Boutefeu. They had no sooner entered the
shop, than Leonard locked the door.
"Who are these persons?" asked Amabel, rising in great alarm.
"Two watchmen whom I have hired to guard the house," replied Leonard.
"We are come to protect you, fair mistress," said Gregory, "and, if need
be, to cut the Earl of Rochester's throat."
"Oh heavens!" exclaimed Amabel.
"Ghost of Tarquin!" cried Boutefeu, "we'll teach him to break into the
houses of quiet citizens, and attempt to carry off their daughters
against their will. By the soul of Dick Whittington, Lord Mayor of
London! we'll maul and mangle him."
"Silence! Bernard Boutefeu," interposed Gregory. "You frighten Mistress
Amabel by your strange oaths."
"I should be sorry to do that," replied Boutefeu--"I only wish to show
my zeal for her. Don't be afraid of the Earl of Rochester, fair
mistress. With all his audacity, he won't dare to enter the house when
he finds we are there."
"Is it your pleasure that we should thrust a halberd through his body,
or lodge a bullet in his brain?" asked Gregory, appealing to Amabel.
"Touch him not, I beseech you," she rejoined. "Leonard, I have your
promise that, if I can prevail upon him to depart, you will not molest
him."
"You have," he replied.
"You hear that," she observed to the watchmen.
"We are all obedience," said Gregory.
"Bless your tender heart!" cried Boutefeu, "we would not pain you for
the world."
"A truce to this," said Leonard. "Come to the yard, we will wait for him
there."
"I will go with you," cried Amabel. "If any harm should befall him, I
should never forgive myself."
"Remember what I told you," rejoined Leonard, sternly; "it depends upon
yourself whether he leaves the house alive."
"Heed him not," whispered Gregory. "I and my comrade will obey no one
but you."
Amabel could not repress an exclamation of surprise.
"What are you muttering, sirrah?" demanded Leonard, angrily.
"Only that the young lady may depend on our fidelity," replied Gregory.
"There can be no offence in that. Come with us," he whispered to Amabel.
The latter part of his speech escaped Leonard, but the tone in which it
was uttered was so significant, that Amabel, who began to entertain new
suspicions, hesitated.
"You must come," said Leonard, seizing her hand.
"The fault be his, not mine," murmured Amabel, as she suffered herself
to be drawn along.
The party then proceeded noiselessly towards the yard. On the way,
Amabel felt a slight pressure on her arm, but, afraid of alarming
Leonard, she made no remark.
The back-door was opened, and the little group stood in the darkness.
They had not long to wait. Before they had been in the yard five
minutes, a noise was heard of footsteps and muttered voices in the
entry. This was followed by a sound like that occasioned by fastening a
rope-ladder against the wall, and the next moment two figures were
perceived above it. After dropping the ladder into the yard, these
persons, the foremost of whom the apprentice concluded was the Earl of
Rochester, descended. They had no sooner touched the ground than
Leonard, drawing his pistols, advanced towards them.
"You are my prisoner, my lord," he said, in a stern voice, "and shall
not depart with life, unless you pledge your word never to come hither
again on the same errand."
"Betrayed!" cried the earl, laying his hand upon his sword.
"Resistance is in vain, my lord," rejoined Leonard. "I am better armed
than yourself."
"Will nothing bribe you to silence, fellow?" cried the earl. "I will
give you a thousand pounds, if you will hold your tongue, and conduct me
to my mistress."
"I can scarcely tell what stays my hand," returned Leonard, in a furious
tone. "But I will hold no further conversation with you. Amabel is
present, and will give you your final dismissal herself."
"If I receive it from her own lips," replied the earl, "I will instantly
retire--but not otherwise."
"Amabel," said Leonard in a low tone to her, "you hear what is said.
Fulfil your promise."
"Do so," cried a voice, which she instantly recognised, in her ear--"I
am near you."
"Ah!" she exclaimed.
"Do you hesitate?" cried the apprentice, sternly.
"My lord," said Amabel, in a faint voice, "I must pray you to retire,
your efforts are in vain. I will never fly with you."
"That will not suffice," whispered Leonard; "you must tell him you no
longer love him."
"Hear me," pursued Amabel; "you who present yourself as Lord Rochester,
I entertain no affection for you, and never wish to behold you again."
"Enough!" cried Leonard.
"Admirable!" whispered Gregory. "Nothing could be better."
"Well," cried the supposed earl, "since I no longer hold a place in your
affections, it would be idle to pursue the matter further. Heaven be
praised, there are other damsels quite as beautiful, though not so
cruel. Farewell for ever, Amabel."
So saying he mounted the ladder, and, followed by his companion,
disappeared on the other side.
"He is gone," said Leonard, "and I hope for ever. Now let us return to
the house."
"I am coming," rejoined Amabel.
"Let him go," whispered Gregory. "The ladder is still upon the wall; we
will climb it."
And as the apprentice moved towards the house, he tried to drag her in
that direction.
"I cannot--will not fly thus," she cried.
"What is the matter?" exclaimed Leonard, suddenly turning.
"Further disguise is useless," replied the supposed Gregory
Swindlehurst. "I am the Earl of Rochester. The other was a counterfeit."
"Ah!" exclaimed Leonard, rushing towards them, and placing a pistol
against the breast of his mistress? "Have I been duped? But it is not
yet too late to retrieve my error. Move a foot further, my lord,--and do
you, Amabel, attempt to fly with him, and I fire."
"You cannot mean this?" cried Rochester. "Raise your hand against the
woman you love?"
"Against the woman who forgets her duty, and the libertine who tempts
her, the arm that is raised is that of justice," replied Leonard. "Stir
another footstep, and I fire."
As he spoke, his arms were suddenly seized by a powerful grasp from
behind, and, striking the pistols from his hold, the earl snatched up
Amabel in his arms, and, mounting the ladder, made good his retreat.
A long and desperate struggle took place between Leonard and his
assailant, who was no other than Pillichody, in his assumed character of
Bernard Boutefeu. But notwithstanding the superior strength of the
bully, and the advantage he had taken of the apprentice, he was worsted
in the end.
Leonard had no sooner extricated himself, than, drawing his sword, he
would have passed it through Pillichody's body, if the latter had not
stayed his hand by offering to tell him where he would find his
mistress, provided his life were spared.
"Where has the earl taken her?" cried Leonard, scarcely able to
articulate from excess of passion.
"He meant to take her to Saint Paul's,--to the vaults below the
cathedral, to avoid pursuit," replied Pillichody. "I have no doubt you
will find her there."
"I will go there instantly and search," cried Leonard, rushing up the
ladder.
V. THE BLIND PIPER AND HIS DAUGHTER
Scarcely knowing how he got there, Leonard Holt found himself at the
great northern entrance of the cathedral. Burning with fury, he knocked
at the door; but no answer being returned to the summons, though he
repeated it still more loudly, he shook the heavy latch with such
violence as to rouse the sullen echoes of the aisles. Driven almost to
desperation, he retired a few paces, and surveyed the walls of the vast
structure, in the hope of descrying some point by which he might obtain
an entrance.
It was a bright moonlight night, and the reverend pile looked so
beautiful, that, under any other frame of mind, Leonard must, have been
struck with admiration. The ravages of time could not now be discerned,
and the architectural incongruities which, seen in the broad glare of
day, would have offended the eye of taste, were lost in the general
grand effect. On the left ran the magnificent pointed windows of the
choir, divided by massive buttresses,--the latter ornamented with
crocketed pinnacles. On the right, the building had been new-faced, and
its original character, in a great measure, destroyed by the tasteless
manner in which the repairs had been executed. On this side, the lower
windows were round-headed and separated by broad pilasters, while above
them ran a range of small circular windows. At the western angle was
seen one of the towers (since imitated by Wren), which flanked this side
of the fane, together with a part of the portico erected, about
twenty-five years previously, by Inigo Jones, and which, though
beautiful in itself, was totally out of character with the edifice, and,
in fact, a blemish to it.
Insensible alike to the beauties or defects of the majestic building,
and regarding it only as the prison of his mistress, Leonard Holt
scanned it carefully on either side. But his scrutiny was attended with
no favourable result.
Before resorting to force to obtain admission, he determined to make the
complete circuit of the structure, and with this view he shaped his
course towards the east.
He found two small doors on the left of the northern transept, but both
were fastened, and the low pointed windows beneath the choir, lighting
the subterranean church of Saint Faith's, were all barred. Running on,
he presently came to a flight of stone steps at the north-east corner of
the choir, leading to a portal opening upon a small chapel dedicated to
Saint George. But this was secured like the others, and, thinking it
vain to waste time in trying to force it, he pursued his course.
Skirting the eastern extremity of the fane--then the most beautiful part
of the structure, from its magnificent rose window--he speeded past the
low windows which opened on this side, as on the other upon Saint
Faith's, and did not pause till he came to the great southern portal,
the pillars and arch of which differed but slightly in character from
those of the northern entrance.
Here he knocked as before, and was answered, as on the former occasion,
by sullen echoes from within. When these sounds died away, he placed his
ear to the huge key-hole in the wicket, but could not even catch the
fall of a footstep. Neither could he perceive any light, except that
afforded by the moonbeams, which flooded the transept with radiance.
Again hurrying on, he passed the cloister-walls surrounding the
Convocation House; tried another door between that building and the
church of Saint Gregory, a small fane attached to the larger structure;
and failing in opening it, turned the corner and approached the
portico,--the principal entrance to the cathedral being then, as now, on
the west.
Erected, as before mentioned, from the designs of the celebrated Inigo
Jones, this magnificent colonnade was completed about 1640, at which
time preparations were made for repairing the cathedral throughout, and
for strengthening the tower, for enabling it to support a new spire. But
this design, owing to the disorganised state of affairs, was never
carried into execution.
At the time of the Commonwealth, while the interior of the sacred fabric
underwent every sort of desecration and mutilation,--while stones were
torn from the pavement, and monumental brasses from tombs,--while carved
stalls were burnt, and statues plucked from their niches,--a similar
fate attended the portico. Shops were built beneath it, and the
sculptures ornamenting its majestic balustrade were thrown down.
Amongst other obstructions, it appears that there was a "high house in
the north angle, which hindered the masons from repairing that part of
it." The marble door-cases, the capitals, cornices, and pillars were so
much injured by the fires made against them, that it required months to
put them in order. At the Restoration, Sir John Denham, the poet, was
appointed surveyor-general of the works, and continued to hold the
office at the period of this history.
As Leonard drew near the portico, he perceived, to his surprise, that a
large concourse of people was collected in the area in front of it; and,
rushing forward, he found the assemblage listening to the denunciations
of Solomon Eagle, who was standing in the midst of them with his brazier
on his head. The enthusiast appeared more than usually excited. He was
tossing aloft his arms in a wild and frenzied manner, and seemed to be
directing his menaces against the cathedral itself.
Hoping to obtain assistance from the crowd, Leonard resolved to await a
fitting period to address them. Accordingly, he joined them, and
listened to the discourse of the enthusiast.
"Hear me!" cried the latter, in a voice of thunder. "I had a vision last
night and will relate it to you. During my brief slumbers, I thought I
was standing on this very spot, and gazing as now upon yon mighty
structure. On a sudden the day became overcast, and ere long it grew
pitchy dark. Then was heard a noise of rushing wings in the air, and I
could just discern many strange figures hovering above the tower,
uttering doleful cries and lamentations. All at once these figures
disappeared, and gave place to, or, it may be, were chased away by,
others of more hideous appearance. The latter brought lighted brands
which they hurled against the sacred fabric, and, in an instant, flames
burst forth from it on all sides. My brethren, it was a fearful, yet a
glorious sight to see that vast pile wrapped in the devouring element!
The flames were so vivid--so intense--that I could not bear to look upon
them, and I covered my face with my hands. On raising my eyes again the
flames were extinguished, but the building was utterly in ruins--its
columns cracked--its tower hurled from its place--its ponderous roof
laid low. It was a mournful spectacle, and a terrible proof of the
Divine wrath and vengeance. Yes, my brethren, the temple of the Lord has
been profaned, and it will be razed to the ground. It has been the scene
of abomination and impiety, and must be purified by fire. Theft, murder,
sacrilege, and every other crime have been committed within its walls,
and its destruction will follow. The ministers of Heaven's vengeance are
even now hovering above it. Repent, therefore, ye who listen to me, and
repent speedily; for sudden death, plague, fire, and famine, are at
hand. As the prophet Amos saith, 'The Lord will send a fire, the Lord
will commission a fire, the Lord will kindle a fire;' and the fire so
commissioned and so kindled shall consume you and your city; nor shall
one stone of those walls be left standing on another. Repent, or burn,
for he cometh to judge the earth. Repent, or burn, I say!"
As soon as he concluded, Leonard Holt ran up the steps of the portico,
and in a loud voice claimed the attention of the crowd.
"Solomon Eagle is right," he cried; "the vengeance of Heaven will
descend upon this fabric, since it continues to be the scene of so much
wickedness. Even now it forms the retreat of a profligate nobleman, who
has this night forcibly carried off the daughter of a citizen."
"What nobleman?" cried a bystander.
"The Earl of Rochester," replied Leonard. "He has robbed Stephen
Bloundel, the grocer of Wood-street, of his daughter, and has concealed
her, to avoid pursuit, in the vaults of the cathedral."
"I know Mr. Bloundel well," rejoined the man who had made the inquiry,
and whom Leonard recognised as a hosier named Lamplugh, "and I know the
person who addresses us. It is his apprentice. We must restore the
damsel to her father, friends."
"Agreed!" cried several voices.
"Knock at the door," cried a man, whose occupation of a smith was
proclaimed by his leathern apron, brawny chest, and smoke-begrimed
visage, as well as by the heavy hammer which he bore upon his shoulder.
"If it is not instantly opened, we will break it down. I have an
implement here which will soon do the business."
A rush was then made to the portal, which rang with the heavy blows
dealt against it. While this was passing, Solomon Eagle, whose
excitement was increased by the tumult, planted himself in the centre of
the colonnade, and vociferated--"I speak in the words of the prophet
Ezekiel:--'Thou hast defiled thy sanctuaries by the multitude of thine
iniquities, by the iniquity of thy traffic. Therefore will I bring forth
a fire from the midst of thee, and will bring thee to ashes upon the
earth, in the sight of all them that behold thee!'"
The crowd continued to batter the door until they were checked by
Lamplugh, who declared he heard some one approaching, and the next
moment the voice of one of the vergers inquired in trembling tones, who
they were, and what they wanted.
"No matter who we are," replied Leonard, "we demand admittance to search
for a young female who has been taken from her home by the Earl of
Rochester, and is now concealed within the vaults of the cathedral."
"If admittance is refused us, we will soon let ourselves in,"
vociferated Lamplugh.
"Ay, that we will," added the smith.
"You are mistaken, friends," returned the verger, timorously. "The Earl
of Rochester is not here."
"We will not take your word for it," rejoined the smith. "This will show
you we are not to be trifled with."
So saying, he raised his hammer, and struck such a tremendous blow
against the door, that the bolts started in their sockets.
"Hold! hold!" cried the verger; "sooner than violence shall be
committed, I will risk your admission."
And he unfastened the door.
"Keep together," shouted the smith, stretching out his arms to oppose
the progress of the crowd. "Keep together, I say."
"Ay, ay, keep together," added Lamplugh, seconding his efforts.
"Conduct us to the Earl of Rochester, and no harm shall befall you,"
cried Leonard, seizing the verger by the collar.
"I tell you I know nothing about him," replied the man. "He is not
here."
"It is false! you are bribed to silence," rejoined the apprentice. "We
will search till we find him."
"Search where you please," rejoined the verger; "and if you _do_ find
him, do what you please with me."
"Don't be afraid of that, friend," replied the smith; "we will hang you
and the earl to the same pillar."