On reaching the door of the house, the burier set
down the lantern near the body of a young man which
had just been thrust forth. At the same moment,
Chowles, with a lantern in his hand, stepped out upon
the threshold. “Who have you got, Jonas?”
he asked.
“I know not,” replied the hindmost burier.
“We entered yon large house, the door of which
stood open, and in one of the rooms found, an old
woman in a fainting state, and the body of this young
girl, wrapped in a sheet, and ready for the cart.
So we clapped it on the board, and brought it away
with us.”
“You did right,” replied Chowles.
“I wonder whose body it is.”
As he spoke, he held up his lantern, and unfastening
it, threw the light full upon the face. The features
were pale as marble; calm in their expression, and
like those of one wrapped in placid slumber. The
long fair hair hung over the side of the board.
It was a sad and touching sight.
“Why, as I am a living man, it is the grocer’s
daughter, Amabel,—somewhile Countess of
Rochester!” exclaimed Chowles.
“It is, it is!” cried the earl, suddenly
rushing from behind a building where he had hitherto
remained concealed. “Whither are you about
to take her? Set her down—set her
down.”
“Hinder them not, my lord,” vociferated
another person, also appearing on the scene with equal
suddenness. “Place her in the cart,”
cried Solomon Eagle—for he it was—to
the bearers. “This is a just punishment
upon you, my lord,” he added to Rochester, as
his injunctions were obeyed—“oppose
them not in their duty.”
It was not in the earl’s power to do so.
Like Leonard, he was transfixed with horror.
The other bodies were soon placed in the cart, and
it was put in motion. At this juncture, the apprentice’s
suspended faculties were for an instant—and
an instant only—restored to him. He
uttered a piercing cry, and staggering forward, fell
senseless on the ground.
DECEMBER, 1665.
THE DECLINE OF THE PLAGUE.
More than two months must be passed over in silence.
During that time, the pestilence had so greatly abated
as no longer to occasion alarm to those who had escaped
its ravages. It has been mentioned that the distemper
arrived at its height about the 10th of September,
and though for the two following weeks the decline
was scarcely perceptible, yet it had already commenced.
On the last week in that fatal month, when all hope
had been abandoned, the bills of mortality suddenly
decreased in number to one thousand eight hundred
and thirty-four. And this fortunate change could
not be attributed to the want of materials to act upon,
for the sick continued as numerous as before, while
the deaths were less frequent. In the next week
there was a further decrease of six hundred; in the
next after that of six hundred; and so on till the
end of October, when, the cold weather setting in,
the amount was reduced to nearly one thousand.
