the city walls beyond Cripplegate.

Hitherto, Thirlby had maintained a profound silence, and appeared lost
in melancholy reflection. Except now and then casting a commiserating
glance at the wretched objects they encountered on the road, he kept his
eyes steadily fixed upon the ground, and walked at a brisky pace, as if
desirous of getting out of the city as quickly as possible.
Notwithstanding his weakness, Leonard managed to keep up with him, and
his curiosity being greatly aroused by what had just occurred, he began
to study his appearance and features attentively. Thirlby was full six
feet in height, and possessed a powerful and well-proportioned figure,
and would have been considered extremely handsome but for a certain
sinister expression about the eyes, which were large and dark, but
lighted by a fierce and peculiar fire. His complexion was dark, and his
countenance still bore the impress of the dreadful disease from which he
had recently recovered. A gloomy shade sat about his brow, and it seemed
to Leonard as if he had been led by his passions into the commission of
crimes of which he had afterwards bitterly repented. His deportment was
proud and commanding, and though he exhibited no haughtiness towards the
apprentice, but, on the contrary, treated him with great familiarity, it
was plain he did so merely from a sense of gratitude. His age was under
forty, and his habiliments were rich, though of a sombre colour.

Passing through the postern, which stood wide open, the watchman having
disappeared, they entered a narrow lane, skirted by a few detached
houses, all of which were shut up, and marked by the fatal cross. As
they passed one of these habitations, they were arrested by loud and
continued shrieks of the most heart-rending nature, and questioning a
watchman who stood at an adjoining door, as to the cause of them, he
said they proceeded from a poor lady who had just lost the last of her
family by the plague.

"Her husband and all her children, except one daughter, died last week,"
said the man, "and though she seemed deeply afflicted, yet she bore her
loss with resignation. Yesterday, her daughter was taken ill, and she
died about two hours ago, since when the poor mother has done nothing
but shriek in the way you hear. Poor soul! she will die of grief, as
many have done before her at this awful time."

"Something must be done to pacify her," returned Thirlby, in a voice of
much emotion,--"she must be