Old Saint Paul's Part 49

Amabel was delighted with her new abode, and she experienced the kindness of a parent from her aunt, with whom, owing to circ.u.mstances, she had not hitherto been personally acquainted, having only seen her when too young to retain any recollection of the event. The widow of a farmer, who had resided on Lord Craven's estate near Kingston Lisle, Mrs. Buscot, after her husband's death, had been engaged as housekeeper at Ashdown Lodge, and had filled the situation for many years to the entire satisfaction of her employer. She was two or three years older than her brother, Mr. Bloundel; but the perfect health she enjoyed, and which she attributed to the salubrious air of the downs, combined with her natural cheerfulness of disposition, made her look much the younger of the two. Her features, besides their kindly and benevolent expression, were extremely pleasing, and must, some years ago, have been beautiful. Even now, what with her fresh complexion, her white teeth, and plump figure, she made no slight pretensions to comeliness. She possessed the same good sense and integrity of character as her brother, together with his strong religious feeling, but entirely unaccompanied by austerity.

Having no children, she was able to bestow her entire affections upon Amabel, whose sad story, when she became acquainted with it, painfully affected her; nor was she less concerned at her precarious state of health. For the first day or two after their arrival, Amabel suffered greatly from the effects of the journey; but after that time, she gained strength so rapidly, that Mrs. Buscot, who at first had well-nigh despaired of her recovery, began to indulge a hope. The gentle sufferer would sit throughout the day with her aunt and Nizza Macascree in the gallery near the belvedere, inhaling the pure breeze blowing from the surrounding hills, and stirring the tree-tops beneath her.

"I never expected so much happiness," she observed, on one occasion, to Mrs. Buscot, "and begin to experience the truth of Doctor Hodges'

a.s.sertion, that with returning health, the desire of life would return.

I now wish to live."

"I am heartily glad to hear you say so," replied Mrs. Buscot, "and hold it a certain sign of your speedy restoration to health. Before you have been a month with me, I expect to bring back the roses to those pale cheeks."

"You are too sanguine, I fear, dear aunt," rejoined Amabel, "but the change that has taken place in my feelings, may operate beneficially upon my const.i.tution."

"No doubt of it, my dear," replied Mrs. Buscot; "no doubt."

The good dame felt a strong inclination at this moment to introduce a subject very near her heart, but, feeling doubtful as to its reception, she checked herself. The devoted attachment of the apprentice to her niece had entirely won her regard, and she fondly hoped she would be able to wean Amabel from all thought of the Earl of Rochester, and induce her to give her hand to her faithful lover. With this view, she often spoke to her of Leonard-of his devotion and constancy, his good looks and excellent qualities; and though Amabel a.s.sented to all she said, Mrs. Buscot was sorry to perceive that the impression she desired was not produced. It was not so with Nizza Macascree. Whenever Leonard's name was mentioned, her eyes sparkled, her cheek glowed, and she responded so warmly to all that was said in his praise, that Mrs. Buscot soon found out the state of her heart. The discovery occasioned her some little disquietude, for the worthy creature could not bear the idea of making even her niece happy at the expense of another.

As to the object of all this tender interest, he felt far happier than he had done for some time. He saw Amabel every day, and noted with unspeakable delight the gradual improvement which appeared to be taking place in her health. The greater part of his time, however, was not pa.s.sed in her society, but in threading the intricacies of the wood, or in rambling over the neighbouring downs; and he not only derived pleasure from these rambles, but his health and spirits, which had been not a little shaken by the awful scenes he had recently witnessed, were materially improved. Here, at last, he seemed to have got rid of the grim spectre which, for two months, had constantly haunted him. No greater contrast can be conceived than his present quiet life offered to the fearful excitement he had recently undergone. For hot and narrow thoroughfares reeking with pestilential effluvia, resounding with frightful shrieks, or piteous cries, and bearing on every side marks of the destructive progress of the scourge-for these terrible sights and sounds-for the charnel horrors of the plague-pit-the scarcely less revolting scenes at the pest-house-the dismal bell announcing the dead-cart-the doleful cries of the buriers-for graves surfeited with corruption, and streets filled with the dying and the dead-and, above all, for the ever-haunting expectation that a like fate might be his own,-he had exchanged green hills, fresh breezes, spreading views, the song of the lark, and a thousand other delights, and a.s.surances of health and contentment. Often, as he gazed from the ridge of the downs into the wide-spread vale beneath, he wondered whether the destroying angel had smitten any of its peaceful habitations, and breathed a prayer for their preservation!

But the satisfaction he derived from having quitted the infected city was trifling compared with that of Blaize, whose sole anxiety was lest he should be sent back to London. Seldom straying further than the gates of the mansion, though often invited by John Lutcombe to accompany him to some of the neighbouring villages; having little to do, and less to think of, unless to calculate how much he could consume at the next meal,-for he had banished all idea of the plague,-he conceived himself at the summit of happiness, and waxed so sleek and round, that his face shone like a full moon, while his doublet would scarcely meet around his waist.

One day, about a fortnight after their arrival, and when things were in this happy state, Amabel, who was seated as usual in the gallery at the summit of the house, observed a troop of hors.e.m.e.n, very gallantly equipped, appear at the further end of the northern avenue. An inexpressible terror seized her, and she would have fled into the house, but her limbs refused their office.

"Look there!" she cried to Nizza, who, at that moment, presented herself at the gla.s.s door. "Look there!" she said, pointing to the cavalcade; "what I dreaded has come to pa.s.s. The Earl of Rochester has found me out, and is coming hither to carry me off. But I will die rather than accompany him."

"You may be mistaken," replied Nizza, expressing a hopefulness, which her looks belied; "it may be the Earl of Craven."

"You give me new life," rejoined Amabel; "but no-no-my aunt has told me that the good earl will not quit the city during the continuance of the plague. And see! some of the hors.e.m.e.n have distinguished us, and are waving their hats. My heart tells me the Earl of Rochester is amongst them. Give me your arm, Nizza, and I will try to gain some place of concealment."

"Ay, let us fly," replied the other, a.s.sisting her towards the door; "I am in equal danger with yourself, for Sir Paul Parravicin is doubtless with them. Oh! where-where is Leonard?"

"He must be below," cried Amabel "But he could not aid us at this juncture; we must depend upon ourselves."

Descending a short staircase, they entered Amabel's chamber, and fastening the door, awaited with breathless anxiety the arrival of the hors.e.m.e.n. Though the room whither they had retreated was in the upper part of the house, they could distinctly hear what was going on below, and shortly afterwards the sound of footsteps on the stairs, blended with merry voices and loud laughter-amid which, Amabel could distinguish the tones of the Earl of Rochester-reached them.

While both were palpitating with fright, the handle of the door was tried, and a voice announced that the apprentice was without.

"All is lost!" he cried, speaking through the keyhole; "the king is here, and is accompanied by the Earl of Rochester and other profligates."

"The king!" exclaimed Amabel, joyfully; "then I am no longer apprehensive."

"As yet, no inquiries have been made after you," continued Leonard, unconscious of the effect produced by his intelligence, "but it is evident they know you are here. Be prepared, therefore."

"I am prepared," rejoined Amabel. And as she spoke, she threw open the door and admitted Leonard. "Do not stay with us," she added to him. "In case of need, I will throw myself on his majesty's protection."

"It will avail you little," rejoined Leonard, distrustfully.

"I do not think so," said Amabel, confidently. "I have faith in his acknowledged kindness of heart."

"Perhaps you are right," returned Leonard. "Mrs. Buscot is at present with his majesty in the receiving-room. Will you not make fast your door?"

"No," replied Amabel, firmly; "if the king will not defend me, I will defend myself."

Leonard glanced at her with admiration, but he said nothing.

"Is Sir Paul Parravicin here?" asked Nizza Macascree, with great anxiety.

"I have not seen him," replied Leonard; "and I have carefully examined the countenances of all the king's attendants."

"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed Nizza.

At this juncture, Mrs. Buscot entered the room. Her looks bespoke great agitation, and she trembled violently.

"You have no doubt heard from Leonard that the king and his courtiers are below," she said. "His majesty inquired whether you were here, and I did not dare to deceive him. He desires to see you, and has sent me for you. What is to be done?" she added, with a look of distraction. "I suppose you must obey."

"There is no alternative," replied Amabel; "I will obey his majesty's commands as soon as I can collect myself. Take back that answer, dear aunt."

"Has Leonard told you that the Earl of Rochester is here?" pursued Mrs.

Buscot.

Amabel replied in the affirmative.

"G.o.d grant that good may come of it!" cried Mrs. Buscot, clasping her hands together, as she quitted the room; "but I am sorely afraid."

A half-suppressed groan from the apprentice told that he shared in her apprehensions.

"Leave us, Leonard," said Amabel; "I would prepare myself for the interview."

The apprentice obeyed, and closing the door after him, stationed himself at the foot of the staircase. Left alone with Nizza, Amabel threw herself on her knees, and besought the support of Heaven on this trying occasion. She then arose, and giving her hand to Nizza, they went down stairs together. Leonard followed them at a little distance, and with a beating heart. Two gentlemen-ushers were posted, at the door of the chamber occupied by the king. Not far from them stood Mrs. Buscot, who, having made known her niece to the officials, they instantly admitted her, but ordered Nizza to remain outside.

On entering the room, Amabel at once discovered the king. He was habited in a magnificent riding-dress and was seated on a rich fauteuil, around which were grouped a dozen gaily-attired courtiers. Amongst these were the Earl of Rochester and Sir George Etherege. As Amabel advanced, glances of insolent curiosity were directed towards her, and Rochester, stepping forward, offered to lead her to the king. She, however, declined the attention. Greatly mortified, the earl would have seized her hand; but there was so much dignity in her deportment, so much coldness in her looks, that in spite of his effrontery, he felt abashed. Charles smiled at his favourite's rebuff, but, in common with the others, he could not help being struck by Amabel's extraordinary beauty and natural dignity, and he observed, in an under-tone, to Etherege, "Is it possible this can be a grocer's daughter?"

"She pa.s.ses for such, my liege," replied Etherege, with a smile. "But I cannot swear to her parentage."

"Since I have seen her, I do not wonder at Rochester's extravagant pa.s.sion," rejoined the monarch. "But, odds fis.h.!.+ she seems to care little for him."

Having approached within a short distance of the king, Amabel would have prostrated herself before him, but he prevented her.

"Nay, do not kneel, sweetheart," he said, "I am fully satisfied of your loyalty, and never exact homage from one of your s.e.x, but, on the contrary, am ever ready to pay it. I have heard much of your attractions, and, what is seldom the case in such matters, find they have not been overrated. The brightest of our court beauties cannot compare with you."

"A moment ago, the fair Amabel might be said to lack bloom," observed Etherege; "but your majesty's praises have called a glowing colour to her cheek."

"Would you deign to grant me a moment's hearing, my liege?" said Amabel, looking steadfastly at the king.

"Not a moment's hearing merely, sweetheart," returned Charles; "but an hour's, if you list. I could dwell on the music of your tones for ever."

"I thank your majesty for your condescension," she replied; "but I will not long trespa.s.s on your patience. What I have to say concerns the Earl of Rochester."

"Stand forward, my lord," said Charles to the earl, "and let us hear what complaint is to be made against you."

Rochester advanced, and threw a pa.s.sionate and half-reproachful glance at Amabel.

"It may be improper for me to trouble your majesty on so light a matter," said Amabel; "but your kindness emboldens me to speak unreservedly. You may be aware that this n.o.bleman once entertained, or feigned to entertain, an ardent attachment to me."