e was a cry, and then a deep silence, and then rose the long wail
of the survivors.

A portion of the Infirmary of the town was added to that already
set apart for a fever-ward; the smitten were carried thither at
once, whenever it was possible, in order to prevent the spread of
infection; and on that lazar-house was concentrated all the medical
skill and force of the place.

But when one of the physicians had died, in consequence of his
attendance--when the customary staff of matrons and nurses had been
swept off in two days--and the nurses belonging to the Infirmary had
shrunk from being drafted into the pestilential fever-ward--when
high wages had failed to tempt any to what, in their panic, they
considered as certain death--when the doctors stood aghast at the
swift mortality among the untended sufferers, who were dependent only
on the care of the most ignorant hirelings, too brutal to recognise
the solemnity of Death (all this had happened within a week from the
first acknowledgment of the presence of the plague)--Ruth came one
day, with a quieter step than usual, into Mr Benson's study, and told
him she wanted to speak to him for a few minutes.

"To be sure, my dear! Sit down," said he; for she was standing and
leaning her head against the chimney-piece, idly gazing into the
fire. She went on standing there, as if she had not heard his words;
and it was a few moments before she began to speak. Then she said:

"I want to tell you, that I have been this morning and offered myself
as matron to the fever-ward while it is so full. They have accepted
me; and I am going this evening."

"Oh, Ruth! I feared this; I saw your look this morning as we spoke of
this terrible illness."

"Why do you say 'fear,' Mr Benson? You yourself have been with John
Harrison, and old Betty, and many others, I dare say, of whom we have
not heard."

"But this is so different! in such poisoned air! among such malignant
cases! Have you thought and weighed it enough, Ruth?"

She was quite still for a moment, but her eyes grew full of tears. At
last she said, very softly, with a kind of still solemnity:

"Yes! I have thought, and I have weighed. But through the very midst
of all my fears and thoughts I have felt that I must go."

The remembrance of Leonard was present in both their minds; but for a
few moments longer they neither of them spoke. Then Ruth said:

"I believe I have no fear. That is a great preservative, they say. At
any