Thus, wild laughter and exclamations of frenzied mirth were heard amid the wailings of women and the piteous cries of children.  It was indeed dreadful to see the old and bed-ridden forced into the street to seek a home where they could; nor yet less dreadful to behold others roused from a bed of sickness at dead of night, and by such a fearful summons.  Still, fanned by the wind, and fed by a thousand combustible matters, the fire pressed fearfully on, devouring all before it, and increasing in fury and power each instant; while the drunken mob laughed, roared, shouted, and rejoiced beside it, as if in emulation of the raging flames.

To proceed for a moment to Wood Street.  When Philip Grant quitted Leonard in the manner before related, the latter followed him to the door, and saw him disappear in the gloom.  But he did not attempt pursuit, because he could not persuade himself that any danger was really to be apprehended.  He thought it, however, advisable to consult with Mr. Bloundel on the subject, and accordingly proceeded to his room and roused him.

After hearing what had occurred, the grocer looked very grave, and said, “I am not disposed to treat this matter so lightly as you do, Leonard.  I fear this unhappy man has some desperate design in view.  What it is I cannot—­dare not—­conjecture.  But I confess I am full of apprehension.  I shall not retire to rest to-night, but shall hold myself in readiness to act in whatever way may be necessary, You had better go forth, and if anything occurs, give notice to the proper authorities.  We have not now such a lord mayor as we had during the season of the plague.  The firm and courageous Sir John Lawrence is but ill succeeded by the weak and vacillating Sir Thomas Bludworth.  Still, the latter may be equal to this emergency, and if anything happens, you must apply to him.”

“I will follow your advice implicitly,” rejoined Leonard.  “At the same time, I think there is nothing to apprehend.”

“It is better to err on the safe side,” observed the grocer; “you cannot then reproach yourself with want of caution.”

Shortly after this, Leonard sallied forth, and having determined what course to pursue in the first instance, proceeded to Saint Paul’s.  He found every door in the sacred structure fast closed.  Not satisfied with this, he knocked at the great northern entrance till the summons was answered by a verger, and stating his object, demanded to be admitted, and to search the cathedral, as well as Saint Faith’s.  The verger offered no objection, and having examined the old building throughout, without discovering any traces of the person he was in quest of, Leonard quitted it.

More than ever convinced that he was right in his supposition, and that no danger was to be apprehended, he was about to return home, when the idea occurred to him that he might perhaps find Grant at the plague-pit in Finsbury Fields, and he accordingly shaped his course thither.  A long period had elapsed since he had last visited the melancholy spot, and it was not without much painful emotion that he drew near the vast mound covering the victims of the pestilence.  But Grant was not there, and though he paced round and round the dreary inclosure for some time, no one came.  He then proceeded to the lesser plague-pit, and kneeling beside the grave of Amabel, bedewed it with his tears.