hter to save him."

"We shall see what she offers," rejoined Judith; "all will depend upon
that."

"It is extraordinary," observed Chowles, after a pause, "that while all
around us are sick or dying of the pestilence, we should escape
contagion."

"We are not afraid of it," replied Judith. "Besides, we are part of the
plague ourselves. But I _have_ been attacked, and am, therefore, safe."

"True," replied Chowles; "I had forgotten that. Well, if I fall ill, you
Sha'n't nurse me."

"You won't be able to help yourself then," returned Judith.

"Eh!" exclaimed Chowles, shifting uneasily on his seat.

"Don't be afraid," returned Judith, laughing at his alarm. "I'll take
every care of you. We are necessary to each other."

"So we are," replied Chowles; "so we are; and if nothing else could,
that consideration would make us true to each other."

"Of course," assented Judith. "Let us reap as rich a harvest as we can,
and when the scourge is over, we can enjoy ourselves upon the spoils."

"Exactly so," replied Chowles. "My business is daily-hourly on the
increase. My men are incessantly employed, and my only fear is that an
order will be issued to bury the dead without coffins."

"Not unlikely," replied Mrs. Malmayns. "But there are plenty of ways of
getting money in a season like this. If one fails, we must resort to
another. I shall make all I can, and in the shortest manner."

"Right!" cried Chowles, with, an atrocious laugh. "Right! ha! ha!"

"I have found out a means of propagating the distemper," pursued Judith,
in a low tone, and with a mysterious air, "of inoculating whomsoever I
please with the plague-venom. I have tried the experiment on Mr.
Quatremain and that youth, and you see how well it has answered in both
instances."

"I do," replied Chowles, looking askance at her. "But why destroy the
poor minor canon?"

"Because I want to get hold of the treasure discovered by the help of
the Mosaical rods in Saint Faith's, which by right belonged to my
husband, and which is now in Mr. Quatremain's possession," replied
Judith.

"I understand," nodded Chowles.

While they were thus conversing, Nizza Macascree again returned, and
informed them that she could not find her father. "He has left the
cathedral," she said, "and will not, probably, return till nightfall."

"I am sorry for it, on your account," observed Judith, coldly.

"Why, you will not have the cruelty to neglect the poor young man till
then-