He then led the way into the cottage.  The good old dame who kept it, on learning who they were, and that they were sent by Doctor Hodges, gave them a hearty welcome, and placed refreshments before them.  Leonard commented upon the extreme neatness of the abode and its healthful situation, and expressed a hope that it might not be visited by the plague.

“I trust it will not,” rejoined the old woman, shaking her head; “but when I hear the doleful bell at night—­when I catch a glimpse of the fatal cart—­or look towards yon dreadful place,” and she pointed in the direction of the plague-pit, which lay only a few hundred yards to the west of her habitation—­“I am reminded that the scourge is not far off, and that it must needs reach me ere long.”

“Have no fear, Dame Lucas,” said the piper; “you see it has pleased a merciful Providence to spare the lives of myself, my child, and this young man, and if you should be attacked, the same benificent Being may preserve you in like manner.”

“The Lord’s will be done!” rejoined Dame Lucas.  “I know I shall be well attended to by Doctor Hodges.  I nursed him when he was an infant, and he has been like a son to me.  Bless his kind heart!” she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears of gratitude, “there is not his like in London.”

“Always excepting my master,” observed Leonard, with a smile at her enthusiasm.

“I except no one,” rejoined Dame Lucas.  “A worthier man never lived, than Doctor Hodges.  If I die of the plague,” she continued, “he has promised not to let me be thrown into that horrible pit—­ough!—­but to bury me in my garden, beneath the old apple-tree.”

“And he will keep his word, dame, I am sure,” replied Leonard.  “I would recommend you, however, as the best antidote against the plague, to keep yourself constantly employed, and to indulge as few gloomy notions as possible.”

“I am seldom melancholy, and still more seldom idle,” replied the good dame.  “But despondency will steal on me sometimes, especially when the dead-cart passes and I think what it contains.”

While the conversation was going forward, Nizza and the piper withdrew into an inner room, where they remained closeted together for some time.  On their re-appearance, Nizza said she was ready to depart, and taking an affectionate farewell of her father, and committing Bell to his charge, she quitted the cottage with the apprentice.

Evening was now advancing, and the sun was setting with the gorgeousness already described as peculiar to this fatal period.  Filled with the pleasing melancholy inspired by the hour, they walked on in silence.  They had not proceeded far, when they observed a man crossing the field with a bundle in his arms.  Suddenly, he staggered and fell.  Seeing he did not stir, and guessing what was the matter, Leonard ran towards him to offer him assistance.  He found him lying in the grass with his left hand fixed against his heart.  He groaned heavily, and