must be considered now that the worst of the peril is past.  When the plague was at its worst last month, there was of necessity some relaxation of stringent measures, because there were times when neither watchmen nor nurses could be found, and common humanity forbade us to close houses when the inhabitants could not get tendance in the prescribed way.  Moreover, a sort of desperation was bred in men’s minds, and the fear was the less because that every man thought his own turn would assuredly come ere long.  So that when of a sudden the bills began to decrease, it seemed unreasonable to be more strict than we had been just before.  Moreover, it was found harder to restrain the people in their joy than in their sorrow; and so we must hope for the best, and trust that the lessened malignity of the disease will keep down the mortality.  For that there will continue to be many sick for weeks to come we cannot doubt.  As for myself, knowing and fearing all I do, nothing would more please and comfort me than to bring my wife and girls hither to this safe spot.  I had not dared to think you could take such a party, Mary; but since you have already made provision for us, why, the sooner we all get forth from the city, the better will it please me.”

Great was the joy in the cottage occasioned by this answer.  Sorrow for the loss of poor Dan was almost forgotten in joyful preparation.  Dan had not been much at home for many years, only coming and going as his ship chanced to put into port in the river or not.  Therefore his loss was not felt as that of Reuben would have been.  It seemed a sad and grievous thing, after having escaped so many perils, to come to his death at last; but so many families had suffered such infinitely greater loss, that repining and mourning seemed almost wrong.  And the thought of seeing all the home faces once more was altogether too delightful to admit of much admixture of grief.

“I wonder if Dorcas will come,” said Gertrude, as they hung about the door awaiting the arrival which was expected every minute.

Three days had now passed since James Harmer’s first visit, and he was to bring his wife and daughters in the afternoon, and stay the night himself, returning on the morrow to transact some necessary business, but spending much of his time with his family in this pleasant spot.

Gertrude had offered to leave, if there were not room for her; but in truth she scarce knew where to go, since of her father she had heard very little of late, and knew not how long his house would be his own.

No one, however, would hear of such a thing as that she should leave them.  She was already like a sister to the boys, and had in old days been as one to the girls.  Moreover, as Mary Harmer sometimes said, why should not she and Reuben be quietly married out here before they returned to the city, and then they could go back to their own house when all the negotiations had been completed and her father’s mind relieved of its load of care?