“Do you think Sibbald would attend him?” asked Nizza, eagerly.

“To be sure he would,” replied Mrs. Malmayns, “if he were paid for it.  But you seem greatly interested about this youth.  I have been young, and know what effect good looks and a manly deportment have upon our sex.  He has won your heart!  Ha! ha!  You need not seek to disguise it.  Your blushes answer for you.”

“A truce to this,” cried Nizza, whose cheeks glowed with shame and anger.

“You can answer a plain question, I suppose,” returned Judith.  “Is his life dear to you?”

“Dearer than my own?” replied Nizza.

“I thought as much,” returned Judith.  “What will you give me to save him?”

“I have nothing,” rejoined Nizza, with a troubled look—­“nothing but thanks to give you.”

“Think again,” said Judith.  “Girls like you, if they have no money, have generally some trinket—­some valuable in their possession.”

“That is not my case,” said Nizza, bursting into tears.  “I never received a present in my life, and never desired one till now.”

“But your father must have some money?” said Judith, inquisitively.

“I know not,” replied Nizza, “but I will ask him.  What sum will content you?”

“Bring all you can,” returned Judith, “and I will do my best.”

Nizza then departed, while Judith, with the assistance of Chowles, covered Leonard with blankets, and proceeded to light a fire.  Long before this, the sick youth was restored to animation.  But he was quite light-headed and unconscious of his situation, and rambled about Amabel and her father.  After administering such remedies as she thought fit, and as were at hand, Judith sat down with the coffin-maker beside a small table, and entered into conversation with him.

“Well,” said Chowles, in an indifferent tone, as he poured out a glass of brandy, “is it to be kill or cure?”

“I have not decided,” replied Judith, pledging him.

“I still do not see what gain there would be in shortening his career,” observed Chowles.

“If there would be no gain, there would be gratification,” replied Judith.  “He has offended me.”

“If that is the case, I have nothing further to say,” returned Chowles.  “But you promised the piper’s daughter 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.