“You are too good,” replied Blaize; “but I won’t decline the offer.  I heard a man crying a new anti-pestilential elixir, as he passed the house yesterday.  I must find him out and buy a bottle.  Besides, I must call on my friend Parkhurst, the apothecary.—­You are a good girl, Patience, and I’ll marry you as soon as the plague ceases.”

“I have something else to give you,” rejoined Patience.  “This little bag contains a hazel-nut, from which I have picked the kernel, and filled its place with quicksilver, stopping the hole with wax.  Wear it round your neck, and you will find it a certain preservative against the pestilence.”

“Who told you of this remedy?” asked Blaize, taking the bag.

“Your mother,” returned Patience.

“I wonder I never heard of it,” said the porter.

“She wouldn’t mention it to you, because the doctor advised her not to put such matters into your head,” replied Patience.  “But I couldn’t help indulging you.  Heigho!  I hope the plague will soon be over.”

“It won’t be over for six months,” rejoined Blaize, shaking his head.  “I read in a little book, published in 1593, in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, and written by Simon Kelway, ’that when little children flock together, and pretend that some of their number are dead, solemnizing the burial in a mournful sort, it is a certain token that a great mortality is at hand.’  This I have myself seen more than once.  Again, just before the great sickness of 1625, the churchyard wall of St. Andrew’s, Holborn, fell down.  I need not tell you that the same thing occurred after the frost this winter.”

“I heard of it,” replied Patience:  “but I did not know it was a bad sign.”

“It is a dreadful sign,” returned Blaize, with a shudder “The thought of it brings back my old symptoms.  I must have a supper to guard against infection—­a slice of toasted bread, sprinkled with, vinegar, and powdered with nutmeg.”

And chattering thus, they proceeded to the kitchen.

Before supper could be served, Dr. Hodges made his appearance.  He was delighted to see the family assembled together again, and expressed a hearty wish that they might never more be divided.  He watched Amabel and Leonard carefully, and seemed annoyed that the former rather shunned than favoured the regards of the apprentice.

Leonard, too, looked disconcerted; and though he was in possession of his mistress’s promise, he did not like to reclaim it.  During the whole of the month, he had been constantly on the watch, and had scarcely slept at night, so anxious was he to prevent the possibility of any communication taking place between Rochester and his mistress.  But, in spite of all his caution, it was possible he might be deceived.  And when on this, their first meeting, she returned his anxious gaze with averted looks, he felt all his jealous misgivings return.