Old St Paul's (Historical Novel). William Harrison Ainsworth

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СКАЧАТЬ wall. "Her miniature! It must be; for it answers exactly to Pillichody's description. A sparkling brunette, with raven hair, and eyes of night. I am on fire to behold her: but I must proceed with prudence, or I may ruin all. Is there nothing of Disbrowe's that I could put on for the nonce? 'Fore Heaven! the very thing I want!"

      The exclamation was occasioned by his observing a loose silken robe lying across a chair. Wrapping it round him, and throwing down his hat, he took the lamp and went up stairs.

      Daring as he was, Parravicin felt his courage desert him, as having found the door of Mrs. Disbrowe's chamber, he cautiously opened it. A single glance showed him that the room was more exquisitely, more luxuriously furnished than that he had just quitted. Articles of feminine attire, of the richest kind, were hung against the walls, or disposed on the chairs. On one side stood the toilette-table, with its small mirror then in vogue, and all its equipage of silver flasks, filligree cassets, japan patch-boxes, scent-bottles, and pomatum-pots.

      As he entered the room, a faint voice issuing from behind the rich damask curtains of the bed, demanded, "Is it you, Disbrowe?"

      "It is, Margaret," replied Parravicin, setting down the lamp, and speaking with a handkerchief at his mouth, to disguise his voice and conceal his features.

      "You are late—very late," she rejoined, "and I have been ill. I fancied myself dying."

      "What has been the matter with you sweet, Meg?" asked Parravicin, approaching the bed, and seating himself behind the curtains.

      "I know not," she replied. "I was seized with a dreadful headache about an hour ago. It has left me; but I have a strange oppression at my chest, and breathe with difficulty."

      "You alarm me, my love," rejoined Parravicin. "Were you ever attacked thus before?"

      "Never," she replied. "Oh! Disbrowe! if you knew how I have longed for your return, you would blame yourself for your absence. You have grown sadly neglectful of late. I suspect you love some one else. If I thought so———"

      "What if you thought so, Margaret?" demanded Parravicin.

      "What!" cried Mrs. Disbrowe, raising herself in the bed. "I would requite your perfidy—terribly requite it!"

      "Then learn that Captain Disbrowe is faithless," cried Parravicin, throwing back the curtains, and disclosing himself. "Learn that he loves another, and is with her now. Learn that he cares so little for you, that he has surrendered you to me."

      "What do I hear?" exclaimed Mrs. Disbrowe. "Who are you, and what brings you here?"

      "You may guess my errand from my presence," replied the knight. "I am called Sir Paul Parravicin, and am the most devoted of your admirers."

      "My husband surrender me to a stranger! It cannot be!" cried the lady, distractedly.

      "You see me here, and may judge of the truth of my statement," rejoined the knight. "Your husband gave me this key, with which I introduced myself to the house."

      "What motive could he have for such unheard-of baseness—such barbarity?" cried Mrs. Disbrowe, bursting into tears.

      "Shall I tell you, madam?" replied Parravicin. "He is tired of you, and has taken this means of ridding himself of you."

      Mrs. Disbrowe uttered a loud scream, and fell back in the bed. Parravicin waited for a moment; but not hearing her move, brought the lamp to see what was the matter. She had fainted, and was lying across the pillow, with her night-dress partly open, so as to expose her neck and shoulders.

      The knight was at first ravished with her beauty; but his countenance suddenly fell, and an expression of horror and alarm took possession of it. He appeared rooted to the spot, and instead of attempting to render her any assistance, remained with his gaze fixed upon her neck.

      Rousing himself at length, he rushed out of the room, hurried down stairs, and without pausing for a moment, threw open the street-door. As he issued from it, his throat was forcibly griped, and the point of a sword was placed at his breast.

      "You are now in my power, villain," cried Disbrowe, "and shall not escape my vengeance."

      "You are already avenged," replied Parravicin, shaking off his assailant. "Your wife has the plague."

      VII. THE PLAGUE NURSE.

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      "And so my husband has got the plague," muttered Mother Malmayns, as she hastened towards Saint Paul's, after the reproof she had received from Doctor Hodges. "Well, it's a disorder that few recover from, and I don't think he stands a better chance than his fellows. I've been troubled with him long enough. I've borne his ill-usage and savage temper for twenty years, vainly hoping something would take him off; but though he tried his constitution hard, it was too tough to yield. However, he's likely to go now. If I find him better than I expect, I can easily make all sure. That's one good thing about the plague. You may get rid of a patient without any one being the wiser. A wrong mixture—a pillow removed—a moment's chill during the fever—a glass of cold water—the slightest thing will do it. Matthew Malmayns, you will die of the plague, that's certain. But I must be careful how I proceed. That cursed doctor has his eye upon me. As luck would have it, I've got Sibbald's ointment in my pocket. That is sure to do its business—and safely."

      Thus ruminating, she shaped her course towards the southwest corner of the cathedral, and passing under the shrouds and cloisters of the Convocation House, raised the latch of a small wooden shed fixed in the angle of a buttress. Evidently well acquainted with the place, she was not long in finding a lantern and materials to light it, and inserting her fingers in a crevice of the masonry, from which the mortar had been removed, she drew forth a key.

      "It has not been stirred since I left it here a month ago," she muttered. "I must take care of this key, for if Matthew should die, I may not be able to enter the vaults of Saint Faith's without it; and as I know all their secret places and passages, which nobody else does, except my husband, I can make them a storehouse for the plunder I may obtain during the pestilence. If it rages for a year, or only half that time, and increases in violence (as God grant it may), I will fill every hole in those walls with gold."

      With this, she took up the lantern, and crept along the side of the cathedral, until she came to a flight of stone steps. Descending them, she unlocked a small but strong door, cased with iron, and fastening it after her, proceeded along a narrow stone passage, which brought her to another door, opening upon the south aisle of Saint Faith's.

      Pausing for a moment to listen whether any one was within the sacred structure—for such was the dead and awful silence of the place, that the slightest whisper or footfall, even at its farthest extremity, could be distinguished—she crossed to the other side, glancing fearfully around her as she threaded the ranks of pillars, whose heavy and embrowned shafts her lantern feebly illumined, and entering a recess, took a small stone out of the wall, and deposited the chief part of the contents of her pocket behind it, after which she carefully replaced the stone. This done, she hurried to the charnel, and softly opened the door of the crypt.

      Greatly relieved by the operation he had undergone, the sexton had sunk into a slumber, and was, therefore, unconscious of the entrance of his wife, who, setting down the lantern, advanced towards the pallet. His mother and the young man were still in attendance, and the former, on seeing her daughter-in-law, exclaimed, in СКАЧАТЬ