e all these
past days; and the Brothers, who had finished their labour of love
within the walls of their home, and had grown fearless before the
pestilence with that fearlessness which gradually comes to those who
look long and steadily upon death, were not wanting in resolve to face
it even in its most terrible shape.

So that they one and all vowed that they would go with Father Paul; and
his steps were bound for the capital of the kingdom, where he knew that
the need would be the sorest.

It seemed to the Brothers, who had long lived beneath his austere but
wise and fatherly rule, that not only did he himself bear a charmed
life, but that all who worked with him felt the shelter of that charm.
Raymond and Roger had returned, having suffered no ill effects from the
terrible sights and scenes through which they had passed. Though the
country in these almost depopulated districts literally reeked with the
pestilence, owing to the effluvia from the carcasses of men and beasts
which lay rotting on the ground unburied, yet they had passed unscathed
through all, and were ready to go forth again upon the same errand of mercy.

Raymond was much divided in mind as to his own course of action. Much as
he longed to remain with Father Paul, whom he continued to revere with a
loving admiration that savoured of worship, he yet had a great desire to
know how it was faring with his cousin John. He could not but be very
sure that the pestilence would not pass Guildford by, and he knew that
John would go forth amongst the sick and dying, and bring them into his
own house for tendance, even though his own life paid the forfeit. It
was therefore with no small eagerness that he longed for news of him;
and when he spoke of this to the Father, the latter at once advised that
they should part company -- he and such of the Brethren as were fit for
the journey travelling on to London, whilst the two youths took the
direct road to Guildford, to see how matters fared there.

"Ye are but striplings," said the Father kindly, "and though ye be
willing and devoted, ye have not the strength of men, nor are ye such
seasoned vessels. In London the scenes will be terrible to look upon. It
may be that they would be more than ye could well brook. Go, then, to
Guildford. They will need helpers there who know how best to wrestle
with the foul distemper, and ye have both learned many lessons with me.
I verily believe that your work lies there, as mine lie