change passed across his face.

"It is the hand of the Lord," he said, "and perchance He smites in mercy
as well as in wrath, delivering men from the evil to come. Let us arise
and go hence. Our work is for the living and not the dead."

For those three to have attempted to bury all that hamlet would have
been an absolute impossibility. Dreadful as was the thought of turning
away and leaving the place as it was, it was hopeless to do otherwise,
and possibly in the town men might be found able and willing to come out
and inter the corpses in one common grave.

With hearts full of awe, the two lads followed their conductor. He had
been through similar scenes in other lands. To him there was nothing new
in sights such as this. Even the sense of personal peril, little as he
had ever regarded it, had long since passed away. But it was something
altogether new to Raymond and his companion; and though they had seen
death in many terrible forms upon the battlefield, it had never inspired
the same feelings of horror and awe. It was impossible to forget that
they might at any moment be breathing into their lungs the same deadly
poison which was carrying off multitudes on every side, and although
there was no conscious fear for themselves in the thought, it could not
but fill them with a quickened perception of the uncertainty of life and
the unreality of things terrestrial.

In perfect silence the walk towards the little town was accomplished;
and as they neared it terrible sights began to reveal themselves even
along the roadside. Plainly indeed to be seen were evidences of
attempted flight from the plague-stricken place; and no doubt many had
made good their escape, but others had fallen down by the wayside in a
dying state, and these dead or dying sufferers were the first tokens
observed by the travellers of the condition of the town.

Not all were dead, though most were plainly hopeless cases. Raymond and
Roger had both learned something during the hours of the previous night,
when they had helped the good Brothers over their tasks; and they
fearlessly knelt beside the poor creatures, moistening their parched
lips, answering their feeble, moaning plaints, and summoning to the side
of the dying the Father, who could hear the feeble confession of sin,
and pronounce the longed-for absolution to the departing soul.

Passing still onwards -- for they could not linger long, and little
enough could be done for these dying suf