Hitherto, Thirlby had maintained a profound silence, and appeared lost in melancholy reflection.  Except now and then casting a commiserating glance at the wretched objects they encountered on the road, he kept his eyes steadily fixed upon the ground, and walked at a brisky pace, as if desirous of getting out of the city as quickly as possible.  Notwithstanding his weakness, Leonard managed to keep up with him, and his curiosity being greatly aroused by what had just occurred, he began to study his appearance and features attentively.  Thirlby was full six feet in height, and possessed a powerful and well-proportioned figure, and would have been considered extremely handsome but for a certain sinister expression about the eyes, which were large and dark, but lighted by a fierce and peculiar fire.  His complexion was dark, and his countenance still bore the impress of the dreadful disease from which he had recently recovered.  A gloomy shade sat about his brow, and it seemed to Leonard as if he had been led by his passions into the commission of crimes of which he had afterwards bitterly repented.  His deportment was proud and commanding, and though he exhibited no haughtiness towards the apprentice, but, on the contrary, treated him with great familiarity, it was plain he did so merely from a sense of gratitude.  His age was under forty, and his habiliments were rich, though of a sombre colour.

Passing through the postern, which stood wide open, the watchman having disappeared, they entered a narrow lane, skirted by a few detached houses, all of which were shut up, and marked by the fatal cross.  As they passed one of these habitations, they were arrested by loud and continued shrieks of the most heart-rending nature, and questioning a watchman who stood at an adjoining door, as to the cause of them, he said they proceeded from a poor lady who had just lost the last of her family by the plague.

“Her husband and all her children, except one daughter, died last week,” said the man, “and though she seemed deeply afflicted, yet she bore her loss with resignation.  Yesterday, her daughter was taken ill, and she died about two hours ago, since when the poor mother has done nothing but shriek in the way you hear.  Poor soul! she will die of grief, as many have done before her at this awful time.”

“Something must be done to pacify her,” returned Thirlby, in a voice of much emotion,—­“she must be removed from her child.”

“Where can she be removed to?” rejoined the watchman.  “Who will receive her?”

“At all events, we can remove the object that occasions her affliction,” rejoined Thirlby.  “My heart bleeds for her.  I never heard shrieks so dreadful.”

“The dead-cart will pass by in an hour,” said the watchman; “and then the body can be taken away.”

“An hour will be too late,” rejoined Thirlby.  “If she continues in this frantic state, she will be dead before that time.  You have a hand-barrow there.  Take the body to the plague-pit at once, and I will reward you for your trouble.”