Old Saint Pauls | Page 4

Leonard Holt, to separate them.
The apprentice seized his cudgel--no apprentice in those days was
without one--and rushed towards the combatants, but before he could
interfere, the fray was ended. One of them had received a thrust
through the sword arm, and his blade dropping, his antagonist declared
himself satisfied, and with a grave salute walked off. The wounded man
wrapped a lace handkerchief round his arm, but immediately afterwards
complained of great faintness. Pitying his condition, and suspecting no
harm, the grocer led him into an inner room, where restoratives were
offered by Mrs. Bloundel and her daughter Amabel, both of whom had
been alarmed by the noise of the conflict. In a short time, the wounded
man was so far recovered as to be able to converse with his assistants,
especially the younger one; and the grocer having returned to the shop,
his discourse became so very animated and tender, that Mrs. Bloundel
deemed it prudent to give her daughter a hint to retire. Amabel
reluctantly obeyed, for the young stranger was so handsome, so richly
dressed, had such a captivating manner, and so distinguished an air,
that she was strongly prepossessed in his favour. A second look from
her mother, however, caused her to disappear, nor did she return. After
waiting with suppressed anxiety for some time, the young gallant
departed, overwhelming the good dame with his thanks, and entreating
permission to call again. This was peremptorily refused, but,

notwithstanding the interdiction, he came on the following day. The
grocer chanced to be out at the time, and the gallant, who had probably
watched him go forth, deriding the remonstrances of the younger
Bloundel and Leonard, marched straight to the inner room, where he
found the dame and her daughter. They were much disconcerted at his
appearance, and the latter instantly rose with the intention of retiring,
but the gallant caught her arm and detained her.
"Do not fly me, Amabel," he cried, in an impassioned tone, "but suffer
me to declare the love I have for you. I cannot live without you."
Amabel, whose neck and cheeks were crimsoned with blushes, cast
down her eyes before the ardent regards of the gallant, and
endeavoured to withdraw her hand.
"One word only," he continued, "and I release you. Am I wholly
indifferent to you! Answer me--yes or no!"
"Do not answer him, Amabel," interposed her mother. "He is deceiving
you. He loves you not. He would ruin you. This is the way with all
these court butterflies. Tell him you hate him, child, and bid him
begone."
"But I cannot tell him an untruth, mother," returned Amabel, artlessly,
"for I do not hate him."
"Then you love me," cried the young man, falling on his knees, and
pressing her hand to his lips. "Tell me so, and make me the happiest of
men."
But Amabel had now recovered from the confusion into which she had
been thrown, and, alarmed at her own indiscretion, forcibly withdrew
her hand, exclaiming in a cold tone, and with much natural dignity,
"Arise, sir. I will not tolerate these freedoms. My mother is right--you
have some ill design."
"By my soul, no!" cried the gallant, passionately. "I love you, and
would make you mine."
"No doubt," remarked Mrs. Bloundel, contemptuously, "but not by
marriage."
"Yes, by marriage," rejoined the gallant, rising. "If she will consent, I
will wed her forthwith."
Both Amabel and her mother looked surprised at the young man's
declaration, which was uttered with a fervour that seemed to leave no
doubt of its sincerity; but the latter, fearing some artifice, replied, "If

what you say is true, and you really love my daughter as much as you
pretend, this is not the way to win her; for though she can have no
pretension to wed with one of your seeming degree, nor is it for her
happiness that she should, yet, were she sought by the proudest noble in
the land, she shall never, if I can help it, be lightly won. If your
intentions are honourable, you must address yourself, in the first place,
to her father, and if he agrees (which I much doubt) that you shall
become her suitor, I can make no objection. Till this is settled, I must
pray you to desist from further importunity."
"And so must I," added Amabel. "I cannot give you a hope till you have
spoken to my father."
"Be it so," replied the gallant. "I will tarry here till his return."
So saying, he was about to seat himself, but Mrs. Bloundel prevented
him.
"I cannot permit this, sir," she cried. "Your tarrying here may, for aught
I know, bring scandal upon my house;--I am sure it will be disagreeable
to my husband. I am unacquainted with your name and