“Is this the young man who desires to consult me?” asked Doctor Calixtus Bottesham, in the cracked and quavering voice of old age, of Parkhurst.

“It is,” replied the apothecary, respectfully.  “Go forward,” he added to Blaize, “and speak for yourself.”

“What ails you?” pursued Bottesham, gazing at him through his spectacles.  “You look strong and hearty.”

“So I am, learned sir,” replied Blaize, bowing to the ground; “but understanding from Mr. Parkhurst that you have an infallible remedy against the plague, I would gladly procure it from you, as, if I should be attacked, I may not have an opportunity of consulting you.”

“Why not?” demanded Bottesham.  “I will come to you if you send for me.”

“Because,” replied Blaize, after a moment’s hesitation, “my master is about to shut up his house, and no one will be allowed to go forth, or to enter it, till the pestilence is at an end.”

“Your master must be mad to think of such a thing,” rejoined Bottesham.  “What say you, brother Furbisher?—­is that the way to keep off the plague?”

“Gallipots of Galen! no,” returned the other; “it is rather the way to invite its assaults.”

“When does your master talk of putting this fatal design—­for fatal it will be to him and all his household—­into execution?” demanded Bottesham.

“Very shortly, I believe,” replied Blaize.  “He meant to begin on the first of June, but as the pestilence is less violent than it was, Doctor Hodges has induced him to defer his purpose for a few days.”

“Doctor Hodges!” exclaimed Bottesham, contemptuously.  “It was an unfortunate day for your master when he admitted that sack-drinking impostor into his house.”

“I have no great opinion of his skill,” replied Blaize, “but, nevertheless, it must be admitted that he cured Master Stephen in a wonderful manner.”

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Bottesham, “that was mere accident.  I heard the particulars of the case from Parkhurst, and am satisfied the youth would have recovered without his aid.  But what a barbarian Mr. Bloundel must be to think of imprisoning his family in this way!”

“He certainly does not consult my inclinations in the matter,” returned Blaize.

“Nor those of his wife and daughter, I should imagine,” continued Bottesham.  “How do they like it?”

“I cannot exactly say,” answered Blaize.  “What a dreadful thing it would be if I should be attacked by the plague, and no assistance could be procured!”

“It would be still more dreadful if so angelic a creature as Bloundel’s daughter is represented to be—­for I have never seen her—­should be so seized,” observed Bottesham.  “I feel so much interested about her that I would do anything to preserve her from the fate with which she is menaced.”

“Were it not inconsistent with your years, learned sir, I might suspect you of a tenderer feeling towards her,” observed Blaize, archly.  “But, in good sooth, her charms are so extraordinary, that I should not be surprised at any effect they might produce.”