desired to see Patience.  After some consideration, Mr. Bloundel summoned the kitchen-maid, and told her she might admit the stranger into the passage, and hear what he had to say.  Patience hastened with a beating heart to the door, expecting to learn some tidings of Blaize, and opening it, admitted a man wrapped in a large cloak and having a broad-leaved hat pulled over his brows.  Stepping into the passage, he threw aside the cloak and raised the hat, discovering the figure and features of Pillichody.

“What brings you here, sir?” demanded Patience, in alarm, and glancing over her shoulder to see whether any one observed them.  “What do you want?”

“I have brought you news of Blaize,” returned the bully.  “But how charmingly you look.  By the coral lips of Venus! your long confinement has added to your attractions.”

“Never mind my attractions, sir,” rejoined Patience, impatiently.  “Where is Blaize?  Why did he not come with you?”

“Alas!” replied Pillichody, shaking his head in a melancholy manner, “he could not.”

“Could not!” half screamed Patience.  “Why not?”

“Do not question me,” replied Pillichody, feigning to brush away a tear.  “He was my friend, and I would rather banish him from my memory.  The sight of your beauty transports me so, that, by the treasures of Croesus!  I would rather have you without a crown than the wealthiest widow in the country.”

“Don’t talk nonsense to me in this way,” sobbed Patience “I’m not in the humour for it.”

“Nonsense!” echoed Pillichody.  “I swear to you I am in earnest.  By Cupid!  I am ravished with your charms.”  And he would have seized her hand, but Patience hastily withdrew it; and, provoked at his impertinence, dealt him a sound box on the ear.  As she did this, she thought she heard a suppressed laugh near her, and looked round, but could see no one.  The sound certainly did not proceed from Pillichody, for he looked very red and very angry.

“Do not repeat this affront, mistress,” he said to her.  “I can bear anything but a blow from your sex.”

“Then tell me what has become of Blaize,” she cried.

“I will no longer spare your feelings,” he rejoined.  “He is defunct.”

“Defunct!” echoed Patience, with a scream.  “Oh, dear me!—­I shall never survive it—­I shall die.”

“Not while I am left to supply his place,” cried Pillichody, catching her in his arms.

“You!” cried Patience, contemptuously; “I would not have you for the world.  Where is he buried?”

“In the plague-pit,” replied Pillichody.  “I attended him during his illness.  It was his second attack of the disorder.  He spoke of you.”

“Did he?—­dear little fellow!” she exclaimed.  “Oh, what did he say?”

“‘Tell her,’ he cried,” rejoined Pillichody, “’that my last thoughts were of her.’”

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” cried Patience, hysterically.