As she said this, a singular and frightful change took place in the nurse’s appearance.  A slight expression of alarm was at first visible, but it was instantly succeeded by a look so savage and vindictive, that Nizza almost repented having provoked the ire of so unscrupulous a person.  But summoning up all her resolution, she returned Judith’s glance with one as stern and steady, if not so malignant as her own.  A deep silence prevailed for a few minutes, during which each fancied she could read the other’s thoughts.  In Nizza’s opinion, the nurse was revolving some desperate expedient, and she kept on her guard, lest an attack should be made upon her life.  And some such design did, in reality, cross Judith; but abandoning it as soon as formed, she resolved to have recourse to more secret, but not less certain measures.

“Well,” she said, breaking silence, “since you are determined to have your own way, and catch the plague, and most likely perish from it, I shall not try to hinder you.  Do what you please, and see what will come of it.”

And she made as if about to depart; but finding Nizza did not attempt to stop her, she halted.

“I cannot leave you thus,” she continued; “if you will remain, take this ointment,” producing a small jar, “and rub the plague-spot with it.  It is a sovereign remedy, and will certainly effect a cure.”

“I will not touch it,” returned Nizza.

“His death, then, be upon your head,” rejoined Judith, quitting the vault, and closing the door after her.

Greatly relieved by her departure, Nizza began to consider what she should do, and whether it would be possible to remove the apprentice to some safer place.  “While occupied with these reflections, the object of her solicitude heaved a deep sigh, and opening his eyes, fixed them upon her.  It was evident, however, that he did not know her, but as far as could be gathered from his ravings, mistook her for Amabel.  By degrees he grew calmer, and the throbbing anguish of the tumour in some measure subsiding, his faculties returned to him.

“Where am I?” he exclaimed, pressing his hand forcibly to his brow, “and what is the matter with me?”

“You are in a vault, near Saint Faith’s,” replied Nizza, “and—­I will not deceive you—­the disorder you are labouring under is the plague.”

“The plague!” echoed Leonard, with a look of horror.  “Ah! now I recollect.  I was attacked immediately after Amabel’s departure with her father.  Heaven be praised! she is safe.  That is some consolation amid all this misery.  Could my master behold me now, he would pity me, and so perhaps would his daughter.”

“Heed her not,” rejoined Nizza, in a slightly reproachful tone, “she does not deserve consideration.  To return to yourself.  You are not safe here.  Judith Malmayns has been hired to take away your life.  Are you able to move hence?”

“I hope so,” replied Leonard, raising himself on his arm.