“Has your lordship no further orders?” she rejoined, significantly.

“None whatever,” he replied, with a frown.

“Before you go, give me the certificate,” cried Amabel.  “I must have it.”

Judith pretended not to hear her.  “Give it her,” whispered the earl, “I will remove it when she falls asleep.”

Nodding acquiescence, Judith took the parchment from her bosom, and returned with it to the bed.  While this was passing, the earl walked towards the chest, and cast his eye over such of its contents as were scattered upon the floor.  Judith watched him carefully, and when his back was turned, drew a small lancet, and affecting to arrange her dress, slightly punctured Amabel’s neck.  The pain was trifling, but the poor girl uttered a cry.

“What is the matter?” cried the earl, turning suddenly round.

“Nothing—­nothing,” replied Judith; “a pin in my sleeve pricked her as I was fastening her cap, that was all.  Her death is certain,” she added to herself, “she is inoculated with the plague-venom.”

She then went to the chest, and replacing everything within it, removed it, by the help of the Earl of Rochester, into the adjoining room.  “I will send for it at midnight,” she said.

“It shall be delivered to your messenger,” rejoined the earl; “but you will answer for Chowles’s secrecy?”

“I will,” returned Judith, with a meaning smile.  “But you may take my word for it you will not be troubled long with your wife.  If I have any judgment respecting the plague, she is already infected.”

“Indeed!” cried Rochester—­“then—­” but he checked himself, and added, “I do not believe it.  Begone.”

“He does believe it for all that,” muttered Judith, as he slunk away.

Rochester returned to Amabel, and sat by her until she fell asleep, when he took the parchment from beneath the pillow where she had placed it.  Examining it, he found it, as Judith had stated, a certificate of his marriage, signed by Mark Vincent, the clergyman who had officiated, and duly attested.  Having carefully perused it, he held it towards the taper, with the intention of destroying it.  As he was about to perpetrate this unworthy action, he looked towards the bed.  The soft sweet smile that played upon the sleeper’s features, turned him from his purpose.  Placing the parchment in his doublet, he left the room, and summoning a female attendant, alleged some reason for his unexpected return, and ordered her to watch by the bedside of her mistress.  Giving some further directions, he threw himself upon a couch and sought a few hours’ repose.  At daybreak, he repaired to Amabel’s chamber, and finding her wrapped in a peaceful slumber, he commended her to the attendant, and departed.