precise truth of the
story of her abduction (if such it was) by Leonard Holt, neither do I
wish to know it, because I might be compelled to act with greater
severity than I desire towards her. But I know enough to satisfy me she
has been excessively imprudent, and has placed herself voluntarily in
situations of the utmost jeopardy."

"Not voluntarily," returned Mrs. Bloundel. "She has been lured into
difficulties by others."

"No more!" interrupted the grocer, sternly. "If you wish to serve her,
keep guard upon your tongue. If you have any preparations to make, they
must not be delayed. I shall shut up my house to-morrow."

"Whether Leonard returns or not?" asked Mrs. Bloundel.

"I shall wait for no one," returned her husband, peremptorily.

They then separated, and Mrs. Bloundel hastened to her daughter to
acquaint her with the result of the interview.

In the afternoon of the same day, the grocer, who began to feel
extremely uneasy about Leonard, again repaired to Saint Paul's to see
whether he could obtain any tidings of him, and learnt, to his great
dismay, from one of the vergers, that a young man, answering to the
description of the apprentice, had been attacked by the pestilence, and
having been taken to the vaults of Saint Faith's, had made his escape
from his attendants, and, it was supposed, had perished. Horror-stricken
by this intelligence, he descended to the subterranean church, where he
met Judith Malmayns and Chowles, who confirmed the verger's statement.

"The poor young man, I am informed," said Chowles, "threw himself into
the Thames, and was picked up by a boat, and afterwards conveyed, in a
dying state, to the pest-house in Finsbury Fields, where you will
probably find him, if he is still alive."

Mr. Bloundel heard no more. Quitting the cathedral, he hastened to
Finsbury Fields, and sought out the building to which he had been
directed. It was a solitary farm-house, of considerable size, surrounded
by an extensive garden, and had only been recently converted to its
present melancholy use. Near it was a barn, also fitted up with beds for
the sick. On approaching the pest-house, Mr. Bloundel was greatly struck
with the contrast presented by its exterior to the misery he knew to be
reigning within. Its situation was charming,--in the midst, as has just
been stated, of a large and, until recently, well-cultivated garden, and
seen under the influence of a bright and genial May day, the whole pla