Dr. Wilbraham denied the position, and the matter was only terminated by Constance proposing that they should proceed to the second turning at least. "Then, if we see a light in the street to the left," she continued, "we may reasonably suppose that that is the turning he meant, unless before that we find a lantern here too, and then we can but ask again. But make haste, my dear Dr. Wilbraham, for there is a man behind who seems as if he were watching us!"
This last observation quickened all their motions, and proceeding as fast as possible, they found that Mistress Margaret was in the right; for immediately in the centre of the second turning to the left appeared a lantern, shedding its dim, small light down the long perspective of the street; which, be it remarked, was highly favoured in having such an appendage, few and scanty being the lights that, in that age, illuminated the streets of London after dark, and those, as in the present instance, being the boon of private individuals. Pursuing their way, then, towards this brilliant luminary, with many a look behind to ascertain whether they were followed, which did not appear to be the case, they found another street, diverging to the right, which shared in the beneficent rays of the lantern, and which also conducted into a known latitude, namely, a sort of little square, that was instantly recognised by the chaplain as being in the immediate proximity of his nephew's dwelling.
The house of Dr. Butts now soon presented itself; and entering the little court before it, the clergyman was just about to knock against a door which fronted them, when some one, entering the court from the street, laid hold of his arm, saying, "Stop, stop, if you please! you must come with me to my lord cardinal."
CHAPTER XXIX.
Come with words as medicinal as true,
Honest as either.--Shakspere.
Now, there are many people who would here leave their reader in suspense, and, darting off to some other part of the tale, would not give the most remote hint of Lady Constance's fate, till they had drawled through two or three long chapters about a frog and a roasted apple, or any other thing, if possible still more irrelevant. But far be such disingenuous dealing from me, whose sole aim, intent, and object, is to give my reader pleasure; and by now and then detailing some little accident or adventure, to keep him just enough awake to prevent the volume falling out of his hand into the fire; to win sometimes a smile, and sometimes a sigh, without aspiring either to laughter or tears; tickling his soul, as it were, with the point of a feather, so as neither to rouse nor to lull; and to leave him in such a state, that when he lays down the book he knows not whether he has been reading or dreaming.
Such are the luxurious aspirations of Vonderbrugius, who is recorded to have himself written more than one volume in his sleep, and to have even carried them to the printer in a state of somnambulency. After this, without more ado, he proceeds to relate, that the worthy Dr. Wilbraham, finding somebody take him by the arm, turned round in a state of vexation and worry, if I may use the word, which overcame the natural gentleness of his disposition, and made him demand, rather sharply, what the stranger wanted with him.
"Why, doctor," replied the man, "you must come instantly to my lord cardinal, who has been struck with the pestilent air in returning from Richmond, and desires to consult with you on the means of preventing its bad effects."
"Pshaw!" cried the good chaplain, pettishly; "I'm not Dr. Butts! How could you frighten me so? We come to see the doctor ourselves."
"Stand out of the way, then, if you are not him," cried the man, changing his tone, and rudely pushing between the clergyman and Lady Constance. "The cardinal must be served first, before such as you, at least;" and knocking loudly against the door, he soon brought forth a page, who informed him that the physician was at the house of old Sir Guy Willoughby, farther down in the same street.