little of what she saw around her. She spoke of him
incessantly, and begged again and again to hear the story of how he
had been found. Her cheek flushed a delicate rose tint each time
she heard how he had called for her ceaselessly in his delirium.
That showed her, if nothing else could convince her of it, how true
and disinterested his love was; that it was for herself he had
always wooed her, and not for any hope of the fortune she had at
one time looked to receive from her father as her marriage dowry.

When they had passed the last of the houses, and stood in the sunny
meadows, with the blue sky above them and the songs of birds in
their ears, Gertrude heaved a great sigh of relief, and her eyes
filled with tears.

"O beautiful trees and fields!" she cried; "it seems as though
nothing of danger and death could overshadow the dwellers in such
fair places."

"So Benjamin and I thought," said Joseph gravely; "but, alas, the
plague has been busy here, too. See, there is a cluster of houses
down there, and but three of them are now inhabited. The pestilence
came and smote right and left, and in some houses not one was left
alive. Still death seems not so terrible here amid these smiling
fields as it does when men are pent together in streets and lanes.
And the dead at first could be buried in their own gardens by their
friends, if they could not take them to the churchyards, which soon
refused to receive them. Many were thus saved from the horror of
the plague pit, which they so greatly dreaded. But I know not
whether it is a wise kindness so to bury them; for there were
hamlets, I am told, where the plague raged fearfully, and where the
living could scarce bury the dead."

Gertrude sighed; death and trouble did indeed seem everywhere. But
even her sorrow for others could not mar her happiness in the
prospect of seeing Reuben once again; and as they neared the place,
and Joseph pointed out the twisted chimneys and thatched roof
peeping through the sheltering trees and shrubs, the girl could not
restrain her eager footsteps, and flew on in advance of her
companion, who was retarded by his barrow.

The next minute she was eagerly kissing Benjamin (who, together
with Fido, had run out at the sound of her footsteps), and shedding
tears of joy at the news that Reuben was no worse, that there were
now no symptoms of the plague about him, but that he was perilously
weak, and needed above all things that his mind should