s bore a marked resemblance to those
of the child, was evidently from his attire above the middle rank. His
frame was athletic, and as he was scarcely past the prime of life, the
irresistible power of the disease, which could in one instant prostrate
strength like his, was terribly attested.

"Alas!" he cried, addressing the apprentice, "I was about to convey the
remains of my poor child to the plague-pit. But I have been unable to
accomplish my purpose. I hoped she would have escaped the polluting
touch of those loathly attendants on the dead-cart."

"She _shall_ escape it," replied Leonard; "if you wish it, I will carry
her to the pit myself."

"The blessing of a dying man rest on your head," cried the sufferer;
"your charitable action will not pass unrequited."

With this, despite the agony he endured, he dragged himself to his
child, kissed her cold lips, smoothed her fair tresses, and covered the
body carefully with the cloth. He then delivered it to Leonard, who
received it tenderly, and calling to Nizza Macascree, who had witnessed
the scene at a little distance, and was deeply affected by it, to await
his return, ran towards the plague-pit. Arrived there, he placed his
little burden at the brink of the excavation, and, kneeling beside it,
uttered a short prayer inspired by the occasion. He then tore his
handkerchief into strips, and tying them together, lowered the body
gently down. Throwing a little earth over it, he hastened to the sick
man, and told him what he had done. A smile of satisfaction illumined
the sufferer's countenance, and holding out his hand, on which a
valuable ring glistened, he said, "Take it--it is but a poor reward for
the service you have rendered me;--nay, take it," he added, seeing that
the apprentice hesitated; "others will not be so scrupulous."

Unable to gainsay the remark, Leonard took the ring from his finger and
placed it on his own. At this moment, the sick man's gaze fell upon
Nizza, who stood at a little distance from him. He started, and made an
effort to clear his vision.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" he cried, "or is a female standing there?"

"You are not deceived," replied Leonard.

"Let her come near me, in Heaven's name!" cried the sick man, staring at
her as if his eyes would start from their sockets. "Who are you?" he
continued, as Nizza approached.

"I am called Nizza Macascree, and am the daughter of a poor piper," she
replied.

"Ah!" exclaimed the sick man,