Leonard only tarried to visit the piper, whom he found slightly delirious, and unable to hold any conversation with him, and promising to return in the evening, he set out after the litter.  Nizza was placed in the best apartment of the doctor’s house, and attended by an experienced and trustworthy nurse.  But Hodges positively refused to let Leonard see her again, affirming that the excitement was too much for her, and might militate against the chance of her recovery.

“I am not without hopes of bringing her through,” he said, “and though it will be a severe struggle, yet, as she has youth and a good constitution on her side, I do not despair.  If she herself would second me, I should be yet more confident.”

“How mean you?” inquired Leonard.

“I think if she thought life worth a struggle—­if, in short, she believed you would return her attachment, she would rally,” answered Hodges.

“I cannot consent to deceive her thus,” rejoined Leonard, sadly.  “My heart is fixed elsewhere.”

“Your heart is fixed upon one who will soon be in her grave,” replied the doctor.

“And with her my affections will be buried,” rejoined Leonard, turning away to hide his tears.

So well was the doctor’s solicitude rewarded, that three days after Nizza had come under his care, he pronounced her out of danger.  But the violence of the attack left her so weak and exhausted, that he still would not allow an interview to take place between her and Leonard.  During all this time Bell never left her side, and her presence was an inexpressible comfort to her.  The piper, too, was slowly recovering, and Leonard, who daily visited him, was glad to learn from the young chirurgeon that he would be able to leave the pest-house shortly.  Having ascertained from Leonard that his daughter was under the care of Doctor Hodges, and likely to do well, the piper begged so earnestly that the packet might not be delivered to her, that, after some consultation with Hodges, Leonard restored it to him.  He was delighted to get it back, felt it carefully over to ascertain that the seals were unbroken, and satisfied that all was safe, had it again sewn up in his gown, which he placed under his pillow.

“I would rather disclose the secret to her by word of mouth than in any other way,” he said.

Leonard felt doubtful whether the secret would now be disclosed at all, but he made no remark.

Night was drawing on as he quitted the pest-house, and he determined to take this opportunity of visiting the great plague-pit, which lay about a quarter of a mile distant, in a line with the church of All-Hallows-in-the-Wall, and he accordingly proceeded in that direction.  The pit which he was about to visit was about forty feet long, twenty wide, and the like number deep.  Into this tremendous chasm the dead were promiscuously thrown, without regard to sex or condition, generally stripped of their clothing, and covered with a slight layer of earth and quick lime.