garb of the person--that side of the street being in the shade--and
stung by jealousy, he immediately started in pursuit. The fugitive
struck down Lad-lane, and run on till he came to the end of
Lawrence-lane, where, finding himself closely pressed, he suddenly
halted, and pulling his hat over his brows to conceal his features,
fiercely confronted his pursuer.

"Why do you follow me thus, rascal?" he cried, drawing his sword. "Would
you rob me? Begone, or I will call the watch."

"It _is_ his voice!" cried the apprentice. "I have news for you, Mr.
Maurice Wyvil. You will not see Amabel to-night. The plague is in her
father's house."

"The plague!" exclaimed Wyvil, in an altered tone, and dropping the
point of his sword. "Is she smitten by it?"

The apprentice answered by a bitter laugh, and without tarrying longer
to enjoy his rival's distress, set off towards Cheapside. Before
reaching the end of Lawrence-lane, however, he half-repented his
conduct, and halted to see whether Wyvil was following him; but as he
could perceive nothing of him, he continued his course.

Entering Cheapside, he observed, to his surprise, a crowd of persons
collected near the Cross, then standing a little to the east of
Wood-street. This cross, which was of great antiquity, and had undergone
many mutilations and alterations since its erection in 1486, when it
boasted, amongst other embellishments, images of the Virgin and Saint
Edward the Confessor, was still not without some pretensions to
architectural beauty. In form it was hexagonal, and composed of three