al were arranged, waiting only the midnight
hour to be fired. Here, however, no one seemed to be stirring; and no
sound broke the silence but the distant rumble of the death-cart, and
the ringing of the driver's bell. There were lights in some of the
houses, but many of them were dark and deserted, and nearly every one
bore the red cross of the plague.

It was a gloomy scene and hour, and Sir Norman's heart turned sick
within him as he noticed the ruin and devastation the pestilence had
everywhere wrought. And he remembered, with a shudder, the prediction
of Lilly, the astrologer, that the paved streets of London would be like
green fields, and the living be no longer able to bury the dead. Long
before this, he had grown hardened and accustomed to death from its very
frequence; but now, as he looked round him, he almost resolved to ride
on and return no more to London till the plague should have left it.
But then came the thought of his unknown lady-love, and with it the
reflection that he was on his way to find her; and, rousing himself
from his melancholy reverie, he rode on at a brisker pace, heroically
resolved to brave the plague or any other emergency, for her sake. Full
of this laudable and lover-like resolution, he had got on about half
a mile further, when he was suddenly checked in his rapid career by an
exciting, but in no way surprising, little incident.

During the last few yards, Sir Norman had come within sight of another
horseman, riding on at rather a leisurely pace, considering the place
and the hour. Suddenly three other horsemen came galloping down upon
him, and the leader presenting a pistol at his head, requested him in
a stentorial voice for his money or his life. By way of reply, the
stranger instantly produced a pistol of his own, and before the
astonished highwayman could comprehend the possibility of such an act,
discharged it full in his face. With a loud yell the robber reeled and
fell from his saddle, and in a twinkling both his companions fired their
pistols at the traveler, and bore, with a simultaneous cry of rage, down
upon him. Neither of the shots had taken effect, but the two enraged
highwaymen would have made short work of their victim had not Sir
Norman, like a true knight, ridden to the rescue. Drawing his sword,
with one vigorous blow he placed another of the assassins hors de
combat; and, delighted with the idea of a fight to stir his stagnant
blood, was turning (like a second