"You!" cried Patience, contemptuously; "I would not have you for the world. Where is he buried?"

"In the plague-pit," replied Pillichody. "I attended him during his illness. It was his second attack of the disorder. He spoke of you."

"Did he? -- dear little fellow!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what did he say?"

"'Tell her,' he cried," rejoined Pillichody, "'that my last thoughts were of her.'"

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" cried Patience, hysterically.

"'Tell her also,' he added," pursued Pillichody, "'that I trust she will fulfil my last injunction.'"

"That I will," replied Patience. "Name it."

"He conjured you to marry me," replied Pillichody. "I am sure you will not hesitate to comply with the request."

"I don't believe a word of this," cried Patience. "Blaize was a great deal too jealous to bequeath me to another."

"Right, sweetheart, right," cried the individual in question, pushing open the door. "This has all been done to try your fidelity. I am now fully satisfied with your attachment; and am ready to marry you whenever you please."

"So this was all a trick," cried Patience, pettishly; "I wish I had known it, I would have retaliated upon you nicely. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Major Pillichody, to lend a helping-hand in such a ridiculous affair."

"I did it to oblige my friend Blaize," replied Pillichody. "It was agreed between us that if you showed any inconstancy, you were to be mine."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Patience. "I would not advise you to repeat the experiment, Mr. Blaize."

"I never intend to do so, my angel," replied the porter. "I esteem myself the happiest and most fortunate of men."

"You have great reason to do so," observed Pillichody. "I do not despair of supplanting him yet," he muttered to himself. "And now, farewell!" he added aloud; "I am only in the way, and besides, I have no particular desire to encounter Mr. Bloundel or his apprentice;" and winking his solitary orb significantly at Patience, he strutted away. It was well he took that opportunity of departing, for the lovers' raptures were instantly afterwards interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Bloundel, who was greatly delighted to see the porter, and gave him a hearty welcome.

"Ah, sir, I have had a narrow escape," cried Blaize, "and never more expected to see you, or my mother, or Patience. I "have" had the plague, sir, and a terrible disorder it is."

"I heard or your seizure from Leonard Holt," replied Mr. Bloundel. "But where have you been since you left the hospital at Saint Paul's?"

"In the country, sir," rejoined Blaize; "sometimes at one farm-house, and sometimes at another. I only returned to London yesterday, and met an old friend, whom I begged to go before me, and see that all was right before I ventured, in."

"We have all been providentially spared," observed Mr. Bloundel, "and you will find your mother as well as when you last quitted her. You had better go to her."

Blaize obeyed, and was received by old Josyna with a scream of delight. Having embraced him, and sobbed over him, she ran for a bottle of sack, and poured its contents down his throat so hastily as nearly to choke him. She then spread abundance of eatables before him, and after he had eaten and drank his full, offered him as a treat a little of the plague medicine which she had in reserve.

"No, thank you, mother," replied Blaize. "I have had enough of "that". But if there should be a box of rufuses amongst the store, you can bring it, as I think a couple might do me good."

Three days after this event, the apprentice was sent forth to ascertain the precise state of the city, as, if all proved favourable, the grocer proposed to open his house on the following day. Leonard set out betimes, and was speedily convinced that all danger was at an end. A severe frost had set in, and had completely purified the air. For the last few days there had been no deaths of the plague, and but little mortality of any kind. Leonard traversed several of the main streets, and some narrow thoroughfares, and found evidences of restored health and confidence everywhere. It is true there were many houses, in which whole families had been swept off, still left untenanted. But these were only memorials of the past calamity, and could not be referred to any existing danger. Before returning to Wood-street, an irresistible impulse led him to Finsbury Fields. He passed through the postern east of Cripplegate, and shaped his way towards the lesser plague-pit. The sun, which had been bright all the morning, was now partially obscured; the air had grown thick, and a little snow fell. The ground was blackened and bound by the hard frost, and the stiffened grass felt crisp beneath his feet. Insensible to all external circumstances, he hurried forward, taking the most direct course, and leaping every impediment in his path. Having crossed several fields, he at length stood before a swollen heap of clay, round which a wooden railing was placed. Springing over the enclosure, and uttering a wild cry that evinced the uncontrollable anguish of his breast, he flung himself upon the mound. He remained for some time in the deepest affliction, and was at last roused by. a hand laid upon his shoulder, and, raising himself, beheld Thirlby.

"I thought it must be you," said the new comer, in accents of the deepest commiseration. "I have been visiting yonder plague-pit for the same melancholy purpose as yourself, -- to mourn over my lost child. I have been in search of you, and have much to say to you. Will you meet me in this place at midnight tomorrow?" Leonard signified his assent.

"I am in danger," pursued Thirlby, "for, by some means, the secret of my existence has been made known, and the officers of justice are in pursuit of me. I suspect that Judith Malmayns is my betrayer. You will not fail me?"

"I will not," returned Leonard. Upon this, Thirlby hurried away, and leaping a hedge, disappeared from view.

Leonard slowly and sorrowfully returned to Wood-street. On arriving there, he assured his master that he might with entire safety open his house, as he proposed, on the morrow; and Doctor Hodges, who visited the grocer the same evening, confirmed the opinion. Early, therefore, the next morning, Mr. Bloundel summoned his family to prayers; and after pouring forth his supplications with peculiar fervour and solemnity, he went, accompanied by them all, and threw open the street-door. Again, kneeling down at the threshold, he prayed fervently, as before. He then proceeded to remove the bars and shutters from the windows. The transition from gloom and darkness to bright daylight was almost overpowering. For the first time for six months, the imprisoned family looked forth on the external world, and were dazzled and bewildered by the sight. The grocer himself, despite his sober judgment, could scarcely believe he had not been in a trance during the whole period. The shop was scarcely opened before it was filled with customers, and Leonard and Stephen were instantly employed. But the grocer would sell nothing. To those who asked for any article he possessed, he presented them with it, but would receive no payment.

He next dispatched Blaize to bring together all the poor he could find, and distributed among them the remainder of his store -- his casks of flour, his salted meat, his cheeses, his biscuits, his wine -- in short, all that was left.

"This I give," he said, "as a thanksgiving to the Lord, and as a humble testimony of gratitude for my signal deliverance."