glazed and lustreless.  At the sight of her mistress, poor Bell uttered so piteous a cry, that Leonard, moved by compassion, placed her on the pillow beside her, and the sagacious animal did not attempt to approach nearer, but merely licked her cheek.  Roused by the touch, Nizza turned to see what was near her, and recognising the animal, made a movement to strain her to her bosom, but the pain she endured was so intense that she sank back with a deep groan.

“From whom did you receive this young woman?” demanded Hodges, of one of the porters.

“She was brought to us by two richly-attired lacqueys,” replied the man, “in this very litter.  They paid us to carry her here without loss of time.”

“You have an idea whose servants they were?” pursued Hodges.

“Not the least,” replied the fellow; “but I should judge, from the richness of their dress, that they belonged to some nobleman.”

“Did they belong to the royal household?” inquired Leonard.

“No, no,” rejoined the man.  “I am certain as to that.”

“The poor girl shall not remain here,” observed Hodges, to the apprentice.  “You must convey her to my residence in Great Knightrider-street,” he added, to the porters.

“We will convey her wherever you please,” replied the men, “if we are paid for our trouble.”

And they were about to close the curtains, when Nizza, having caught sight of the apprentice, slightly raised herself, and cried, in a voice of the utmost anxiety, “Is that you, Leonard?”

“It is,” he replied, approaching her.

“Then I shall die happy, since I have seen you once more,” she said.  “Oh, do not stay near me.  You may catch the infection.”

“Nizza,” said Leonard, disregarding the caution, and breathing the words in her ear; “allay my fears by a word.  You have not fallen a victim to the villain who carried you away?”

“I have not, Leonard,” she replied, solemnly, “I resisted his importunities, his threats, his violence, and would have slain myself rather than have yielded to him.  The plague, at length, came to my rescue, and I have reason to be grateful to it; for it has not only delivered me from him, but has brought me to you.”

“I must now impose silence upon you,” interposed Hodges, laying his finger on his lips; “further conversation will be hurtful.”

“One question more, and I have done,” replied Nizza.  “How came Bell with you—­and where is my father?  Nothing has happened to him?” she continued, observing Leonard’s countenance change.  “Speak! do not keep me in suspense.  Your silence fills me with apprehension.  Speak, I implore you.  He is dead?”

“No,” replied Leonard, “he is not dead—­but he is an inmate of this place.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Nizza, falling back senseless upon the pillow.

And in this state she was conveyed with the greatest expedition to the doctor’s residence.