“Ay, verily do ye!” exclaimed the father, whose phrase Joseph had picked up and quoted.  “Heaven send that my poor sister be yet numbered among the living.  I know not whether the fell disease has wrought havoc beyond the limits of the city in that direction; but at the first it raged more fiercely north and west than with us, and God alone knows who are taken and who are left!”

“Then, father, may we go?” asked Benjamin, eagerly.

The father looked from one boy to the other with the glance of one who thinks he may be looking his last upon some loved face.  Men had begun to grow used to the thought that when they left their homes in the morning they might return to them no more, or that they might return to find that one or more of their dear ones had been struck down and carried off in the course of a few hours.  So terrible was the malignity of the disease, that often death supervened after a few hours, although others would linger—­often in terrible suffering—­for many days before death (or much more rarely, recovery) relieved them of their pain.  This good man knew that if he let the lads go, he might never see them again.  He or they might be victims before they met, and might see each other’s face no more upon earth.

Yet he did not oppose the boys’ plan.  He knew how bad for them was this shut-up life, and how the very sense of fret and compulsory inactivity might predispose them to the contagion.  If they could once get beyond the limits of the city, they might be far safer than they could be here.  It would be a relief to have them gone—­to think of them as living in safety in the fresh air of the country.  Moreover, it pleased him to think of sending a message of loving assurance to his favourite sister, who dwelt in the open country beyond the hamlet of Islington.  He felt assured that if she still lived she would have a warm welcome for his boys; and if the lads were well provided with money and wholesome food, they had wits enough to take care of themselves for a while, until they had found some asylum.  In all the surrounding villages, as he well knew, were only too many empty houses and cottages.  He knew that there was risk; but there was risk everywhere, and he felt sympathy with the lads for their eager desire to get free of their prison.

The mother felt more fear, but she never interfered with the decisions of her husband.  Her tears fell as she packed up in very small compass a few articles of clothing and some provisions for the lads.  Their father furnished them with money, the bulk of which was sewn up in their clothing, and with those health passes which were so needful for those leaving the infected city.

The summer’s night was really the best time in which to commence a journey.  The heat of the streets by day was intolerable, the danger of encountering infected persons was greater, whilst although it was at night that the dead carts went about, these could be easily avoided, as the warning bell and mournful cry gave ample notice of their approach.