“My poor brother!” cried Gertrude, beneath her breath.  “Oh, what has my father done with him?  What will become of him?”

“Your father brought him hither at once—­not within the house, but into one of his old offices where in past times his goods were wont to be stored.  He has now gone to consult with your mother whether or not the poor lad should be admitted within the house or not.  If your mother will not have him here, he will remain for a while where he is; and if he falls sick, he will be removed to the pest house.”

“Oh no! no! no!” cried Gertrude vehemently, “not whilst he has a sister to nurse him—­a roof, however humble, to shelter him.  Let him not die amongst strangers!  I fear not the infection.  I will go to him this minute.  Already I have thought it were better to die of the plague, doing one’s duty towards the sick and suffering, than to keep shut up away from all.  They shall not take him away to die amidst those scenes of horror of which one has heard.  Even my mother will be brave, methinks, for Frederick’s sake.  I trow she will open her doors to him.”

“That is what your father thinks.  It may be that even now he is bringing him within.  But, sweet mistress, if Frederick comes here, it may well be that in another week this house will be straitly shut up, with the red cross upon the door, and the watchman before the portal day and night.  That is why I have come hither at once, to open the little door between our houses; for I cannot bear the thought of knowing naught that befalls you for a whole long month.  And since, though my work takes me daily into what men call the peril of infection, I am sound and bring no hurt to others, I am not afraid that I shall bring hurt to thee.  I could not bear to have no tidings of how it fared with thee.  Thou wilt not chide me for making this provision.  It came into my head so soon as I knew that peril of infection was like to come within these walls.  We must not let thee be shut quite away from us.  We may be able to give thee help, and in times of peril neighbours must play a neighbourly part.”

The tears stood in Gertrude’s eyes.  She was thinking of the unkindly fashion in which her mother had spoken of late years of these neighbours, and contrasting with that the way in which they were now coming forward to claim the neighbour’s right to help in time of threatened trouble.  The tears were very near her eyes as she made answer: 

“O Reuben, how good thou art!  But if our house be infected, how can it be possible for thee to come and go?  Would it not be a wrong against those who lay down these laws for the preservation of the city?”