he should acquaint his master with Maurice Wyvil's meditated visit. But
conceiving it wholly impossible that Amabel could leave her mother's
room, even if she were disposed to do so, he determined to let the
affair take its course. On his way to the shop, he entered a small room
occupied by Blaize, and found him seated near a table, with his hands
upon his knees, and his eyes fixed upon the ground, looking the very
image of despair. The atmosphere smelt like that of an apothecary's
shop, and was so overpowering, that Leonard could scarcely breathe. The
table was covered with pill-boxes and phials, most of which were
emptied, and a dim light was afforded by a candle with a most portentous
crest of snuff.

"So you have been poisoning yourself, I perceive," observed Leonard,
approaching him.

"Keep off!" cried the porter, springing suddenly to his feet. "Don't
touch me, I say. Poisoning myself! I have taken three rufuses, or
pestilential pills; two spoonfuls of alexiteral water; the same quantity
of anti-pestilential decoction; half as much of Sir Theodore Mayerne's
electuary; and a large dose of orvietan. Do you call that poisoning
myself? I call it taking proper precaution, and would recommend you to
do the same. Beside this, I have sprinkled myself with vinegar,
fumigated my clothes, and rubbed my nose, inside and out, till it
smarted so intolerably, I was obliged to desist, with balsam of
sulphur."

"Well, well, if you don't escape the plague, it won't be your fault,"
returned Leonard, scarcely able to refrain from laughing. "But I have
something to tell you before I go."