Wood-street on the way, that he might inquire whether his master wanted
him. Thirlby agreeing to this, and the old porter repeating his
assurance that Leonard might make himself quite easy as to Blaize, for
he would send his master to him the instant he returned, they set out.
On reaching Wood-street the apprentice gave the customary signal, and
the grocer answering it, he informed him of his unexpected meeting with
Blaize, and of the state in which he had left him. Mr. Bloundel was much
distressed by the intelligence, and telling Leonard that he should not
require him again that night, besought him to observe the utmost
caution. This the apprentice promised, and joining Thirlby, who had
walked forward to a little distance, they struck into a narrow street on
the right, and proceeding along Aldermanbury, soon arrived at the first
postern in the city walls beyond Cripplegate.
Hitherto, Thirlby had maintained a profound silence, and appeared lost
in melancholy reflection. Except now and then casting a commiserating
glance at the wretched objects they encountered on the road, he kept his
eyes steadily fixed upon the ground, and walked at a brisky pace, as if
desirous of getting out of the city as quickly as possible.
Notwithstanding his weakness, Leonard managed to keep up with him, and
his curiosity being greatly aroused by what had just occurred, he began
to study his appearance and features attentively. Thirlby was full six
feet in height, and possessed a powerful and well-proportioned figure,
and would have been considered extremely handsome but for a certain
sinister expression about the eyes, which were large and dark, but
lighted by a fierce and peculiar fire. His complexion was dark, and his
countenance still bore the impress of the dreadful disease from which he
had recently recovered. A gloomy shade sat about his brow, and it seemed
to Leonard as if he had been led by his passions into the commission of
crimes of which he had afterwards bitterly repented. His deportment was
proud and commanding, and though he exhibited no haughtiness towards the
apprentice, but, on the contrary, treated him with great familiarity, it
was plain he did so merely from a sense of gratitude. His age was under
forty, and his habiliments were rich, though of a sombre colour.
Passing through the postern, which stood wide open, the watchman having
disappeared, they entered a narrow lane, skirted by a few detached
houses, all of which were shut up, and marked by the fatal cross. As
they passed one of these habitations, they were arrested by loud and
continued shrieks of the most heart-rending nature, and questioning a
watchman who stood at an adjoining door, as to the cause of them, he
said they proceeded from a poor lady who had just lost the last of her
family by the plague.
"Her husband and all her children, except one daughter, died last week,"
said the man, "and though she seemed deeply afflicted, yet she bore her
loss with resignation. Yesterday, her daughter was taken ill, and she
died about two hours ago, since when the poor mother has done nothing
but shriek in the way you hear. Poor soul! she will die of grief, as
many have done before her at this awful time."
"Something must be done to pacify her," returned Thirlby, in a voice of
much emotion,--"she must be removed from her child."
"Where can she be removed to?" rejoined the watchman. "Who will receive
her?"
"At all events, we can remove the object that occasions her affliction,"
rejoined Thirlby. "My heart bleeds for her. I never heard shrieks so
dreadful."
"The dead-cart will pass by in an hour," said the watchman; "and then
the body can be taken away."
"An hour will be too late," rejoined Thirlby. "If she continues in this
frantic state, she will be dead before that time. You have a hand-barrow
there. Take the body to the plague-pit at once, and I will reward you
for your trouble."
"We shall find some difficulty in getting into the house," said the
watchman, who evidently felt some repugnance to the task.
"Not so," replied Thirlby. And pushing forcibly against the door, he
burst it open, and, directed by the cries, entered a room on the right.
The watchman's statement proved correct. Stretched upon a bed in one
corner lay the body of a beautiful girl, while the poor mother was
bending over it in a state bordering on distraction. On seeing Thirlby,
she fled to the further end of the room, but did not desist from her
cries. In fact, she was unable to do so, being under the dominion of the
wildest hysterical passion. In vain Thirlby endeavoured to make her
comprehend by signs the nature of his errand. Waving him off, she
continued shrieking more loudly than ever. Half-stunned by the cries,
and greatly agitated by the sight of the child, whose appearance
reminded him of his own daughter, Thirlby motioned the watchman, who had
followed him into the room, to bring away the body, and rushed forth.
His injunctions were obeyed. The remains of the unfortunate girl were
wrapped in a sheet, and deposited in the hand-barrow. The miserable
mother followed the watchman to the door, but did not attempt to
interfere with him, and having seen the body of her child disposed of in
the manner above described, turned back. The next moment, a heavy sound
proclaimed that she had fallen to the ground, and her shrieks were
hushed. Thirlby and Leonard exchanged sad and significant looks, but
neither of them went back to see what had happened to her. The watchman
shook his head, and setting the barrow in motion, proceeded along a
narrow footpath across the fields. Remarking that he did not take the
direct road to the plague-pit, Leonard called to him, and pointed out
the corner in which it lay.
"I know where the old plague-pit is, as well as you," replied the
watchman, "but it has been filled these three weeks. The new pit lies in
this direction." So saying, he pursued his course, and they presently
entered a field, in the middle of which lay the plague-pit, as was
evident from the immense mound of clay thrown out of the excavation.
"That pit is neither so deep nor so wide as the old one," said the
watchman, "and if the plague goes on at this rate, they will soon have
to dig another--that is, if any one should be left alive to undertake
the job."
And chuckling as if he had said a good thing, he impelled his barrow
forward more quickly. A few seconds brought them near the horrible
chasm. It was more than half full, and in all respects resembled the
other pit, except that it was somewhat smaller. There was the same
heaving and putrefying mass,--the same ghastly objects of every
kind,--the grey-headed old man, the dark-haired maiden, the tender
infant,--all huddled together. Wheeling the barrow to the edge of the
pit, the watchman cast his load into it; and without even tarrying to
throw a handful of soil over it, turned back, and rejoined Thirlby, who
had halted at some distance from the excavation. While the latter was
searching for his purse to reward the watchman, they heard wild shrieks
in the adjoining field, and the next moment perceived the wretched
mother running towards them. Guessing her purpose from his former
experience, Leonard called to the others to stop her, and stretching out
his arms, placed himself in her path. But all their efforts were in
vain. She darted past them, and though Leonard caught hold of her, she
broke from him, and leaving a fragment of her dress in his grasp, flung
herself into the chasm.
Well knowing that all help was vain, Thirlby placed a few pieces of
money in the watchman's hand, and hurried away. He was followed by
Leonard, who was equally eager to quit the spot. It so chanced that the
path they had taken led them near the site of the old plague-pit, and
Leonard pointed it out to his companion. The latter stopped for a
moment, and then, without saying a word, ran quickly towards it. On
reaching the spot, they found that the pit was completely filled up. The
vast cake of clay with which it was covered had swollen and cracked in
an extraordinary manner, and emitted such a horrible effluvium that they
both instantly retreated.
"And that is the grave of my poor child," cried Thirlby, halting, and
bursting into a passionate flood of tears. "It would have been a fitting
resting-place for a guilty wretch like me; but for her it is horrible."
Allowing time for the violence of his grief to subside, Leonard
addressed a few words of consolation to him, and then tried to turn the
current of his thoughts by introducing a different subject. With this
view, he proceeded to detail the piper's mysterious conduct as to the
packet, and concluded by mentioning the piece of gold which Nizza wore
as an amulet, and which she fancied must have some connection with her
early history.
"I have heard of the packet and amulet from Doctor Hodges," said
Thirlby, "and should have visited the piper on my recovery from the
plague, but I was all impatience to behold Nizza, and could not brook an
instant's delay. But you know his cottage. We cannot be far from it."
"Yonder it is," replied Leonard, pointing to the little habitation,
which lay at a field's distance from them--"and we are certain to meet
with him, for I hear the notes of his pipe."
Nor was he deceived, for as they crossed the field, and approached the
cottage, the sounds of a melancholy air played on the pipe became each
instant more distinct. Before entering the gate, they paused for a
moment to listen to the music, and Leonard could not help contrasting
the present neglected appearance of the garden with the neatness it
exhibited when he last saw it. It was overgrown with weeds, while the
drooping flowers seemed to bemoan the loss of their mistress. Leonard's
gaze involuntarily wandered in search of the old apple-tree, and he
presently discovered it. It was loaded with fruit, and the rounded sod
beneath it proclaimed the grave of the ill-fated Dame Lucas.
Satisfied with this survey, Leonard opened the gate, but had no sooner
set foot in the garden than the loud barking of a dog was heard, and
Bell rushed forth. Leonard instantly called to her, and on hearing his
voice, the little animal instantly changed her angry tones to a gladsome
whine, and, skipping towards him, fawned at his feet. While he stooped
to caress her, the piper, who had been alarmed by the barking, appeared
at the door, and called out to know who was there? At the sight of him,
Thirlby, who was close behind Leonard, uttered a cry of surprise, and
exclaiming, "It is he!" rushed towards him.
The cry of recognition uttered by the stranger caused the piper to start
as if he had received a sudden and violent shock. The ruddy tint
instantly deserted his cheek, and was succeeded by a deadly paleness;
his limbs trembled, and he bent forward with a countenance of the utmost
anxiety, as if awaiting a confirmation of his fears. When within a
couple of yards of him, Thirlby paused, and having narrowly scrutinized
his features, as if to satisfy himself he was not mistaken, again
exclaimed, though in a lower and deeper tone than before, "It is he!"
and seizing his arm, pushed him into the house, banging the door to
after him in such a manner as to leave no doubt in the apprentice's mind
that his presence was not desired. Accordingly, though extremely anxious
to hear what passed between them, certain their conversation must relate
to Nizza Macascree, Leonard did not attempt to follow, but, accompanied
by Bell, who continued to gambol round him, directed his steps towards
the grave of Dame Lucas. Here he endeavoured to beguile the time in
meditation, but in spite of his efforts to turn his thoughts into a
different channel, they perpetually recurred to what he supposed to be
taking place inside the house. The extraordinary effect produced by
Nizza Macascree on Thirlby--the resemblance he had discovered between
her and some person dear to him--the anxiety he appeared to feel for
her, as evinced by his recent search for her--the mysterious connection
which clearly subsisted between him and the piper--all these
circumstances convinced Leonard that Thirlby was, or imagined himself,
connected by ties of the closest relationship with the supposed piper's
daughter.
Leonard had never been able to discern the slightest resemblance either
in manner or feature, or in those indescribably slight personal
peculiarities that constitute a family likeness, between Nizza and her
reputed father--neither could he now recall any particular resemblance
between her and Thirlby; still he could not help thinking her beauty and
high-bred looks savoured more of the latter than the former. He came,
therefore, to the conclusion that she must be the offspring of some
early and unfortunate attachment on the part of Thirlby, whose remorse
might naturally be the consequence of his culpable conduct at that time.
His sole perplexity was the piper's connection with the affair; but he
got over this difficulty by supposing that Nizza's mother, whoever she
was, must have committed her to Macascree's care when an infant,
probably with strict injunctions, which circumstances might render
necessary, to conceal her even from her father. Such was Leonard's
solution of the mystery; and feeling convinced that he had made himself
master of the stranger's secret, he resolved to give him to understand
as much as soon as he beheld him again.
More than half an hour having elapsed, and Thirlby not coming forth,
Leonard began to think sufficient time had been allowed him for private
conference with the piper, and he therefore walked towards the door, and
coughing to announce his approach, raised the latch and entered the
house. He found the pair seated close together, and conversing in a low
and earnest tone. The piper had completely recovered from his alarm, and
seemed perfectly at ease with his companion, while all traces of anger
had disappeared from the countenance of the other. Before them on the
table lay several letters, taken from a packet, the cover of which
Leonard recognised as the one that had been formerly intrusted to him.
Amidst them was the miniature of a lady--at least, it appeared so to
Leonard, in the hasty glance he caught of it; but he could not be quite
sure; for on seeing him, Thirlby closed the case, and placing his hand
on the piper's mouth, to check his further speech, arose.
"Forgive my rudeness," he said to the apprentice; "but I have been so
deeply interested in what I have just heard, that I quite forgot you
were waiting without. I shall remain here some hours longer, but will
not detain you, especially as I am unable to admit you to our
conference. I will meet you at Doctor Hodges's in the evening, and shall
have much to say to you."
"I can anticipate some part of your communication," replied Leonard.
"You will tell me you have a daughter still living."
"You are inquisitive, young man," rejoined Thirlby, sternly.
"You do me wrong, sir," replied Leonard. "I have no curiosity as regards
yourself; and if I had, would never lower myself in my own estimation to
gratify it. Feeling a strong interest in Nizza Macascree, I am naturally
anxious to know whether my suspicion that a near relationship subsists
between yourself and her is correct."
"I cannot enter into further explanation now," returned Thirlby. "Meet
me at Doctor Hodges's this evening, and you shall know more. And now
farewell. I am in the midst of a deeply-interesting conversation, which
your presence interrupts. Do not think me rude--do not think me
ungrateful. My anxiety must plead my excuse."
"None is necessary, sir," replied Leonard. "I will no longer place any
restraint upon you."
So saying, and taking care not to let Bell out, he passed through the
door, and closed it after him. Having walked to some distance across the
fields, musing on what had just occurred, and scarcely conscious whither
he was going, he threw himself down on the grass, and fell asleep. He
awoke after some time much refreshed, and finding he was considerably
nearer Bishopsgate than any other entrance into the city, determined to
make for it. A few minutes brought him to a row of houses without the
walls, none of which appeared to have escaped infection, and passing
them, he entered the city gate. As he proceeded along the once-crowded
but now utterly-deserted thoroughfare that opened upon him, he could
scarcely believe he was in a spot which had once been the busiest of the
busy haunts of men--so silent, so desolate did it appear! On reaching
Cornhill, he found it equally deserted. The Exchange was closed, and as
Leonard looked at its barred gates, a saddening train of reflection
passed through his mind. His head declined upon his breast, and he
continued lost in a mournful reverie until he was roused by a hand laid
upon his shoulder, and starting--for such a salutation at this season
was alarming--he looked round, and beheld Solomon Eagle.
"You are looking upon that structure," said the enthusiast, "and are
thinking how much it is changed. Men who possess boundless riches
imagine their power above that of their Maker, and suppose they may
neglect and defy him. But they are mistaken. Where are now the wealthy
merchants who used to haunt those courts and chambers?--why do they not
come here as of old?--why do they not buy and sell, and send their
messengers and ships to the farthest parts of the world? Because the
Lord hath smitten them and driven them forth--'From the least of them
even to the greatest of them,' as the prophet Jeremiah saith, 'every one
has been given to covetousness.' The balances of deceit have been in
their hands. They have cozened their neighbours, and greedily gained
from them, and will find it true what the prophet Ezekiel hath written,
that 'the Lord will pour out his indignation upon them, and consume them
with the fire of his wrath.' Yea, I tell you, unless they turn from
their evil ways--unless they cast aside the golden idol they now
worship, and set up the Holy One of Israel in its stead, a fire will be
sent to consume them, and that pile which they have erected as a temple
to their god shall be burnt to the ground."
Leonard's heart was too full to make any answer, and the enthusiast,
after a brief pause, again addressed him. "Have you seen Doctor Hodges
pass this way? I am in search of him."
"On what account?" asked Leonard anxiously. "His advice, I trust, is not
needed on behalf of any one in whom I am interested."
"No matter," replied Solomon Eagle, in a sombre tone; "have you seen
him?"
"I have not," rejoined the apprentice; "but he is probably at Saint
Paul's."
"I have just left the cathedral, and was told he had proceeded to some
house near Cornhill," rejoined the enthusiast.
"If you have been there, you can perhaps tell me how my master's porter,
Blaize Shotterel, is getting on," said Leonard.
"I can," replied the enthusiast. "I heard one of the chirurgeons say
that Doctor Hodges had pronounced him in a fair way of recovery. But I
must either find the doctor or go elsewhere. Farewell!"
"I will go with you in search of him," said Leonard.
"No, no; you must not--shall not," cried Solomon Eagle.
"Wherefore not?" asked the apprentice.
"Do not question me, but leave me," rejoined the enthusiast.
"Do you know aught of Amabel--of her retreat?" persisted Leonard, who
had a strange misgiving that the enthusiast's errand in some way
referred to her.
"I do," replied Solomon Eagle, gloomily; "but I again advise you not to
press me further."
"Answer me one question at least," cried Leonard. "Is she with the Earl
of Rochester?"
"She is," replied Solomon Eagle; "but I shall allay your fears in that
respect when I tell you she is sick of the plague."
Leonard heard nothing more, for, uttering a wild shriek, he fell to the
ground insensible. He was aroused to consciousness by a sudden sense of
strangulation, and opening his eyes, beheld two dark figures bending
over him, one of whom was kneeling on his chest. A glance showed him
that this person was Chowles; and instantly comprehending what was the
matter, and aware that the coffin-maker was stripping him previously to
throwing him into the dead-cart, which was standing hard by, he cried
aloud, and struggled desperately to set himself free. Little opposition
was offered; for, on hearing the cry, Chowles quitted his hold, and
retreating to a short distance, exclaimed, with a look of surprise,
"Why, the fellow is not dead, after all!"
"I am neither dead, nor likely to die, as you shall find to your cost,
rascal, if you do not restore me the clothes you have robbed me of,"
cried Leonard, furiously. And chancing to perceive a fork, dropped by
Chowles in his hasty retreat, he snatched it up, and, brandishing it
over his head, advanced towards him. Thus threatened, Chowles tossed him
a rich suit of livery.
"These are not mine," said the apprentice, gazing at the habiliments.
"They are better than your own," replied Chowles, "and therefore you
ought to be glad of the exchange. But give me them back again. I have no
intention of making you a present."
"This is the livery of the Earl of Rochester," cried Leonard.
"To be sure it is," replied Chowles, with a ghastly smile. "One of his
servants is just dead."
"Where is the profligate noble?" cried Leonard, eagerly.
"There is the person who owned these clothes," replied Chowles, pointing
to the dead-cart. "You had better ask him."
"Where is the Earl of Rochester, I say, villain?" cried Leonard,
menacingly.
"How should I know?" rejoined Chowles. "Here are your clothes," he
added, pushing them towards him.
"I will have an answer," cried Leonard.
"Not from me," replied Chowles. And hastily snatching up the livery, he
put the cart in motion, and proceeded on his road. Leonard would have
followed him, but the state of his attire did not permit him to do so.
Having dressed himself, he hastened to the cathedral, where he soon
found the attendant who had charge of Blaize.
"Doctor Hodges has been with him," said the man, in reply to his
inquiries after the porter, "and has good hopes of him. But the patient
is not entirely satisfied with the treatment he has received, and wishes
to try some remedies of his own. Were his request granted, all would
soon be over with him."
"That I am sure of," replied Leonard. "But let us go to him."
"You must not heed his complaints," returned the attendant. "I assure
you he is doing as well as possible; but he is so dreadfully frightened
at a trifling operation which Doctor Hodges finds it necessary to
perform upon him, that we have been obliged to fasten him to the bed."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Leonard, suspiciously. "Has Judith Malmayns had no
hand in this arrangement?"
"Judith Malmayns has been absent during the whole of the afternoon,"
said the man, "and another nurse has taken her place in Saint Faith's.
She has never been near Blaize since I have had charge of him."
By this time they had reached the pallet in which the porter was laid.
His eyes and a small portion of his snub-nose were alone visible, his
head being still enveloped by the linen cloth, while his mouth was
covered by blankets. He looked so anxiously at the apprentice, that the
latter removed the covering from his mouth, and enabled him to speak.
"I am glad to find you are getting on so well," said Leonard, in a
cheerful tone. "Doctor Hodges has been with you, I understand?"
"He has," groaned Blaize; "but he has done me no good--none whatever. I
could doctor myself much better, if I might be allowed; for I know every
remedy that has been prescribed for the plague; but he would adopt none
that I mentioned to him. I wanted him to place a hot loaf, fresh from
the oven, to the tumour, to draw it; but he would not consent. Then I
asked for a cataplasm, composed of radish-roots, mustard-seed, onions
and garlic roasted, mithridate, salt, and soot from a chimney where wood
only has been burnt. This he liked no better than the first. Next, I
begged for an ale posset with pimpernel soaked in it, assuring him that
by frequently drinking such a mixture, Secretary Naunton drew the
infection from his very heart. But the doctor would have none of it, and
seemed to doubt the fact."
"What did he do?" inquired Leonard.
"He applied oil of St. John's wort to the tumour," replied Blaize, with
a dismal groan, and said, "if the scar did not fall off, he must
cauterize it. Oh! I shall never be able to bear the pain of the
operation."
"Recollect your life is at stake," rejoined Leonard. "You must either
submit to it or die."
"I know I must," replied Blaize, with a prolonged groan; "but it is a
terrible alternative."