That was the beginning of a steady if rather a slow recovery.  It was only natural indeed that Reuben should be long in regaining strength.  He had been through months of fatigue and arduous wearing toil, and the marvel was that when the distemper attacked him in his weakness and depression he had strength enough to throw it off.  As Mary Harmer said, it seemed sometimes as though those who went fearlessly amongst the plague stricken became gradually inoculated with the poison, and were thus able to rid themselves of it when it did attack them.  Reuben at least had soon thrown off his attack, and the state of weakness into which he had fallen was less the result of the plague than of his long and arduous labours before.

How he ever came to be in the pest house of Clerkenwell he never could altogether explain.  He remembered that business had called him out in a northwesterly direction; and he had a dim recollection of feeling a sick longing for a sight of the country once more, and of bending his steps further than he need, whilst he fancied he had entertained some notion of paying a visit to his aunt, and making sure that his brothers had safely reached her abode.  That was probably the reason why he had come so far away from home.  He had been feeling miserably restless and wretched ever since Gertrude had refused him, and upon that day he had an overpowering sense of illness and weariness upon him, too.  But he did not remember feeling any alarm, or any premonition of coming sickness.  He had grown so used to escaping when others were stricken down all round, that the sense of uncertainty which haunted all men at the commencement of the outbreak had almost left him now.  It could only be supposed that the fever of the pestilence had come upon him, and that he had dropped by the wayside, as so many did, and had been carried into the farm house by some compassionate person, or by one of the bearers whose duty it was to keep the highways clear of such objects of public peril.  But he knew nothing of his own condition, and had had no real gleam of consciousness, until he opened his eyes in his aunt’s house to find Gertrude bending over him.

There was no shadow between them now.  Gertrude’s surrender was as complete as Lady Scrope had foreseen.  She used now to laugh with Reuben over the sayings of that redoubtable old dame, and wonder what she would think of them could she see them now.  The box she had entrusted to Gertrude had been given into Mary Harmer’s care for the present, till Reuben should be strong enough to enjoy the excitement of opening it.  But upon the first day that saw him down in the little parlour, lying upon the couch that had been made ready to receive him, Joseph eagerly clamoured to have the box brought down and opened; and his wish being seconded by all, Mary Harmer quickly produced it, and it was set upon a little table at the side of the couch.

“Have you the key?” asked Reuben of Gertrude, and she produced it from her neck, round which it had been hanging all this while by a silken cord.