Old Saint Pauls | Page 3

this
was a much more populous parish than the former, the deaths were
more numerous within it. For a while, the disease was checked by Fleet
Ditch; it then leaped this narrow boundary, and ascending the opposite
hill, carried fearful devastation into Saint James's, Clerkenwell. At the
same time, it attacked Saint Bride's; thinned the ranks of the thievish
horde haunting Whitefriars, and proceeding in a westerly course,
decimated Saint Clement Danes.
Hitherto, the city had escaped. The destroyer had not passed Ludgate or
Newgate, but environed the walls like a besieging enemy. A few days,
however, before the opening of this history, fine weather having
commenced, the horrible disease began to grow more rife, and laughing
all precautions and impediments to scorn, broke out in the very heart of
the stronghold--namely, in Bearbinder-lane, near Stock's Market, where
nine persons died.
At a season so awful, it may be imagined how an impressive address,
like that delivered by the grocer, would be received by those who saw
in the pestilence, not merely an overwhelming scourge from which few
could escape, but a direct manifestation of the Divine displeasure. Not a
word was said. Blaize Shotterel, the porter, and old Josyna, his mother,
together with Patience, the other woman-servant, betook themselves

silently, and with troubled countenances, to the kitchen. Leonard Holt,
the apprentice, lingered for a moment to catch a glance from the soft
blue eyes of Amabel, the grocer's eldest daughter (for even the plague
was a secondary consideration with him when she was present), and
failing in the attempt, he heaved a deep sigh, which was luckily laid to
the account of the discourse he had just listened to by his sharp-sighted
master, and proceeded to the shop, where he busied himself in
arranging matters for the night.
Having just completed his twenty-first year, and his apprenticeship
being within a few months of its expiration, Leonard Holt began to
think of returning to his native town of Manchester, where he intended
to settle, and where he had once fondly hoped the fair Amabel would
accompany him, in the character of his bride. Not that he had ever
ventured to declare his passion, nor that he had received sufficient
encouragement to make it matter of certainty that if he did so declare
himself, he should be accepted; but being both "proper and tall," and
having tolerable confidence in his good looks, he had made himself, up
to a short time prior to his introduction to the reader, quite easy on the
point.
His present misgivings were occasioned by Amabel's altered manner
towards him, and by a rival who, he had reason to fear, had completely
superseded him in her good graces. Brought up together from an early
age, the grocer's daughter and the young apprentice had at first
regarded each other as brother and sister. By degrees, the feeling
changed; Amabel became more reserved, and held little intercourse
with Leonard, who, busied with his own concerns, thought little about
her. But, as he grew towards manhood, he could not remain insensible
to her extraordinary beauty--for extraordinary it was, and such as to
attract admiration wherever she went, so that the "Grocer's Daughter"
became the toast among the ruffling gallants of the town, many of
whom sought to obtain speech with her. Her parents, however, were far
too careful to permit any such approach. Amabel's stature was lofty; her
limbs slight, but exquisitely symmetrical; her features small, and cast in
the most delicate mould; her eyes of the softest blue; and her hair
luxuriant, and of the finest texture and richest brown. Her other
beauties must be left to the imagination; but it ought not to be omitted
that she was barely eighteen, and had all the freshness, the innocence,

and vivacity of that most charming period of woman's existence. No
wonder she ravished every heart. No wonder, in an age when
love-making was more general even than now, that she was beset by
admirers. No wonder her father's apprentice became desperately
enamoured of her, and proportionately jealous.
And this brings us to his rival. On the 10th of April, two gallants, both
richly attired, and both young and handsome, dismounted before the
grocer's door, and, leaving their steeds to the care of their attendants,
entered the shop. They made sundry purchases of conserves, figs, and
other dried fruit, chatted familiarly with the grocer, and tarried so long,
that at last he began to suspect they must have some motive. All at once,
however, they disagreed on some slight matter--Bloundel could not tell
what, nor, perhaps, could the disputants, even if their quarrel was not
preconcerted--high words arose, and in another moment, swords were
drawn, and furious passes exchanged. The grocer called to his eldest
son, a stout youth of nineteen, and to