“Your apprentice is a fortunate spark, Mr. Bloundel,” he said.  “No sooner does he lose one mistress than he finds another.  Tour daughter is already forgotten, and he is at this moment enjoying a tender tete-a-tete in Bishop Kempe’s chapel with Nizza Macascree, the blind piper’s daughter.”

“It is false, sir,” replied the grocer, incredulously.

“Unbelieving dog!” cried Pillichody, in a furious tone, and clapping his hand upon his sword, “it is fortunate for you that the disparity of our stations prevents me from compelling you to yield me satisfaction for the insult you have offered me.  But I caution you to keep better guard upon your tongue for the future, especially when addressing one who has earned his laurels under King Charles the Martyr.”

“I have no especial reverence for the monarch you served under,” replied Bloundel; “but he would have blushed to own such a follower.”

“You may thank my generosity that I do not crop your ears, base Roundhead,” rejoined Pillichody; “but I will convince you that I speak the truth, and if you have any shame in your composition, it will be summoned to your cheeks.”

So saying, he proceeded to Bishop Kempe’s chapel, the door of which was slightly ajar, and desired the grocer to look through the chink.  This occurred at the precise time that the apprentice was seized with sudden faintness, and was leaning for support upon Nizza Macascree’s shoulder.

“You see how lovingly they are seated together,” observed Pillichody, with a smile of triumph.  “Bowers of Paphos!  I would I were as near the rich widow of Watling-street.  Will you speak with him?”

“No,” replied Bloundel, turning away; “I have done with him for ever.  I have been greatly deceived.”

“True,” chuckled Pillichody, as soon as the grocer was out of hearing; “but not by your apprentice, Mr. Bloundel.  I will go and inform Parravicin and Rochester that I have discovered the girl.  The knight must mind what he is about, or Leonard Holt will prove too much for him.  Either I am greatly out, or the apprentice is already master of Nizza’s heart.”

To return to Amabel.  As soon as she was alone with her mother, she threw herself on her knees before her, and, imploring her forgiveness, hastily related all that had occurred.

“But for Leonard Holt,” she said, “I should have been duped into a false marriage with the earl, and my peace of mind would have been for ever destroyed.  As it is, I shall never be easy till he is restored to my father’s favour.  To have done wrong myself is reprehensible enough; but that another should suffer for my fault is utterly inexcusable.”

“I lament that your father should be deceived,” rejoined Mrs. Bloundel, “and I lament still more that Leonard Holt should be so unjustly treated.  Nevertheless, we must act with the utmost caution.  I know my husband too well to doubt for a moment that he will hesitate to fulfil his threat.  And now, my dear child,” she continued, “do not the repeated proofs you have received of this wicked nobleman’s perfidy, and of Leonard’s devotion—­do they not, I say, open your eyes to the truth, and show you which of the two really loves you, and merits your regard?”