When first the alarm was given that the plague had entered within the city walls, this man had hastily decided to quit London with his wife and family and seek an asylum in the country, and had earnestly urged the Harmers to do the same.  For many months nothing had been heard of them; but with the first abatement of the malady the father had appeared, and had asked advice from Harmer as to how soon he might bring home his family, who were all sound and well.  His friend advised him to wait another month at least; but he laughed such counsel to scorn, and just before the Harmers themselves started for Islington, their friends had settled themselves in their old house opposite.

Ten days later Harmer heard with great dismay that three of the children had taken the plague and had died.  By the end of the week there was not one of the family alive save the unhappy man himself, and he went about like one distraught, so that his reason or his life seemed like to pay the forfeit.

It was no wonder, in the hearing of such stories as these—­of which there were many—­that Mary Harmer rejoiced to have her brother’s household safely housed and out of danger, and that she earnestly begged them to remain with her at least until the merry Christmastide should be overpast.

CHAPTER XV.  A CHRISTMAS WEDDING.

“I never thought to see daughter of mine wedded from the house of a neighbour,” said the Master Builder (whose title yet clung to him, albeit there was something of mockery in the sound), heaving a sigh as he looked into the happy face of his child.  “But a homeless man must needs do the best he can; and our good friends have won the right to play the part of kinsfolk towards us both.”

“Indeed—­indeed they have, dear father,” answered Gertrude; “thou canst not think how happy I have been here in this sweet cottage, nor what a home it has been to us all these weeks.  I shall be almost loth to leave it on the morrow—­at least I should be, were it not for the great happiness coming into my life.  But the home to which Reuben will take me must be even dearer than this.  And thou wilt come with us, sweet father, and make us happy by thy presence!”

“Ay, child, if thou wilt have the homeless old man who has managed his affairs so ill as to have to start life afresh when he should be thinking of resigning his work into other hands, and passing his old age in peace and—­”

But Gertrude stopped him with a kiss.

“Thou art not old, father; and I trow before thou art, a peaceful and prosperous old age will be in store for thee.  Whilst Reuben and I live, nothing shall lack to thee that filial love can bestow.  O dearest father! methinks there are bright and happy days before us yet.”

“I trust so—­I trust so, my child, for thee especially.  For thou dost deserve them.  Thou hast been a good daughter, and wilt make a good wife.”