Old Saint Paul's: A Tale of the Plague and the Fire by William Harrison Ainsworth (english novels for students txt) 📖

"Ay, let us fly," replied the other, assisting 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 horsemen. 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.

"God 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 passes 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 passion," rejoined the monarch. "But, odds fish! 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 sex, 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 trespass 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 passionate 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 nobleman once entertained, or feigned to entertain, an ardent attachment to me."

"I need scarcely assure you, my liege," interposed Rochester, "that it was no feigned passion. And it is needless to add, that however ardently I felt towards my fair accuser then, my passion has in nowise abated."

"I should wonder if it had," rejoined Charles, gallantly. "I will not