“Whom does she resemble?” asked Leonard, eagerly.

“One very dear to me,” replied the sick man, with an expression of remorse and anguish, “one I would not think of now.”  And he buried his face in the grass.

“Is there aught more I can do for you?” inquired Leonard, after a pause.

“No,” replied the sick man; “I have done with the world.  With that child, the last tie that bound me to it was snapped.  I now only wish to die.”

“Do not give way thus,” replied Leonard; “a short time ago my condition was as apparently hopeless as your own, and you see I am now perfectly recovered.”

“You had something to live for—­something to love,” groaned the sick man.  “All I lived for, all I loved, are gone.”

“Be comforted, sir,” said Nizza, in a commiserating tone.  “Much happiness may yet be in store for you.”

“That voice!” exclaimed the sick man, with a look denoting the approach of delirium.  “It must be my Isabella.  Oh! forgive me! sweet injured saint; forgive me!”

“Your presence evidently distresses him,” said Leonard.  “Let us hasten for assistance.  Your name, sir?” he added, to the sick man.

“Why should you seek to know it?” replied the other.  “No tombstone will be placed over the plague-pit.”

“Not a moment must be lost if you would save him,” cried Nizza.

“You are right,” replied Leonard.  “Let us fly to the nearest apothecary’s.”

Accordingly, they set off at a quick pace towards Moorgate.  Just as they reached it, they heard the bell ring, and saw the dead-cart approaching.  Shrinking back while it passed, they ran on till they came to an apothecary’s shop, where Leonard, describing the state of the sick man, by his entreaties induced the master of the establishment and one of his assistants to accompany him.  Leaving Nizza in the shop, he then retraced his steps with his companions.  The sick man was lying where he had left him, but perfectly insensible.  On searching his pockets, a purse of money was found, but neither letter nor tablet to tell who he was.  Leonard offered the purse to the apothecary, but the latter declined it, and desired his assistant, who had brought a barrow with him, to place the sick man within it, and convey him to the pest-house.

“He will be better cared for there than if I were to take charge of him,” he observed.  “As to the money, you can return it if he recovers.  If not, it of right belongs to you.”

Seeing that remonstrance would be useless, Leonard did not attempt it, and while the assistant wheeled away the sick man, he returned with the apothecary to his dwelling.  Thanking him for his kindness, he then hastened with Nizza Macascree to Great Knightrider-street.  He related to the doctor all that had occurred, and showed him the ring.  Hodges listened to the recital with great attention, and at its close said, “This is a very singular affair, and excites my curiosity greatly.  I will go to the pest-house and see the sick man to-morrow.  And now we will proceed to supper; and then you had better retire to rest, for you will have to be astir before daybreak.  All is in readiness for the journey.”