Three days afterwards, the Examiner of Health pronounced the grocer’s house free from infection.  The fatal mark was obliterated from the door; the shutters were unfastened; and Bloundel resumed his business as usual.  Words are inadequate to describe the delight that filled the breast of every member of his family, on their first meeting after their long separation.  It took place in the room adjoining the shop.  Mrs. Bloundel received the joyful summons from Leonard, and, on descending with her children, found her husband and her son Stephen anxiously expecting her.  Scarcely able to make up her mind as to which of the two she should embrace first, Mrs. Bloundel was decided by the pale countenance of her son, and rushing towards him, she strained him to her breast, while Amabel flew to her father’s arms.  The grocer could not repress his tears; but they were tears of joy, and that night’s happiness made him ample amends for all the anxiety he had recently undergone.

“Well, Stephen, my dear child,” said his mother, as soon as the first tumult of emotion had subsided,—­“well, Stephen,” she said, smiling at him through her tears, and almost smothering him with kisses, “you are not so much altered as I expected; and I do not think, if I had had the care of you, I could have nursed you better myself.  You owe your father a second life, and we all owe him the deepest gratitude for the care he has taken of you.”

“I can never be sufficiently grateful for his kindness,” returned Stephen, affectionately.

“Give thanks to the beneficent Being who has preserved you from this great danger, my son, not to me,” returned Bloundel.  “The first moments of our reunion should be worthily employed.”

So saying, he summoned the household, and, for the first time for a month, the whole family party assembled, as before, at prayer.  Never were thanksgivings more earnestly, more devoutly uttered.  All arose with bright and cheerful countenances; and even Blaize seemed to have shaken off his habitual dread of the pestilence.  As he retired with Patience, he observed to her, “Master Stephen looks quite well, though a little thinner.  I must ascertain from him the exact course of treatment pursued by his father.  I wonder whether Mr. Bloundel would nurse me if I were to be suddenly seized with the distemper?”

“If he wouldn’t, I would,” replied Patience.

“Thank you, thank you,” replied Blaize.  “I begin to think we shall get through it.  I shall go out to-morrow and examine the bills of mortality, and see what progress the plague is making.  I am all anxiety to know.  I must get a fresh supply of medicine, too.  My private store is quite gone, except three of my favourite rufuses, which I shall take before I go to bed to-night.  Unluckily, my purse is as empty as my phials.”

“I can lend you a little money,” said Patience.  “I haven’t touched my last year’s wages.  They are quite at your service.”