"Reuben found! Reuben alive! O Joseph, Joseph, Joseph!" and Dorcas
burst into tears of joy and relief, and sobbed aloud upon her
brother's neck.
Joseph had brought his news straight to Dorcas, knowing that she at
least would be certainly found within Lady Scrope's house. He was
secretly afraid to go home first, lest the fatal red cross upon the
door should tell its tale of woe, or lest the whole house itself
should be shut up and desolate, like the majority of the houses he
had passed in the forlorn city that morning. He felt, however, an
almost superstitious confidence that Lady Scrope's house would defy
the infection. He was decidedly of the opinion that that
redoubtable dame was a witch, and that she had charms which kept
the plague at bay. He therefore first sought out the sister with
whom he felt certain he could obtain speech; and she had drawn him
into a little parlour hard by the street door, in great
astonishment at seeing him there, and fearful at first (as folks
had grown to be of late) that he was the bearer of evil tidings.
The joy and relief were therefore so great that she could not
restrain her tears, and between laughing, crying, and repeating in
astonished snatches the words of explanation which fell from
Joseph's lips, she made such an unwonted commotion in the
ordinarily silent house, that soon the tap of a stick could have
been heard by ears less preoccupied coming down the stairs and
along the passage, and the door was pushed open to admit the little
upright figure of the mistress of the house.
"Hoity toity! art thou bereft of thy senses, child? What in
fortune's name means all this?
"Boy, who art thou? and what dost thou here? A brother, forsooth!
Come with some news, perchance? Well, well, well; how goes it in
the city? Are any left alive? They say at the rate we are going
now, it will take but a month more to destroy the city even as
Sodom was destroyed!"
"O madam," cried Dorcas dashing away her tears, and turning an
eager face towards the witch-like old woman, who in her silk gown,
hooped and looped up, her fine lace cap and mittens, and her ebony
stick with its ivory head, looked the impersonation of a fairy
godmother, "this is my brother Joseph, and he comes with welcome
tidings. My brother Reuben is not dead, albeit he has in truth been
smitten by the plague. Joseph found him yesterday in the pest house
just beyond Clerkenwell; and he is in a fair way to recover, if his
mind can but be set at rest.
"Oh what news this will be for our parents!--for the girls!--for
Gertrude! Oh how we have mourned and wept together; and now we
shall rejoice with full hearts!"
"Has Mistress Gertrude mourned for him too?" asked Joseph eagerly.
"Marry that is good hearing, for I have wondered all this while
whether I should obtain the grace from her for which I have come."
"And what is that, young man?" asked Lady Scrope, tapping her cane
upon the ground as much as to say that in her own house she was not
going to take a secondary place, and that conversation was to be
addressed to her. Joseph turned to her at once and answered:
"Verily, good madam, my aunt has sent me hither to fetch Mistress
Gertrude forthwith to his side. She says that he calls ceaselessly
upon her, and that unless he can see her beside him he may yet die
of the disappointment and trouble, albeit the plague is stayed in
his case, and it is but the fever of weakness that is upon him. She
thinks it will not hurt her to come, if so be that it is as we
hope, and that she has in her heart for him the same love as he has
for her."
"Oh, she has! she has!" cried Dorcas, fired with sudden
illumination of mind about many things that perplexed her before.
"Her heart is just breaking for him!
"Prithee, good madam, let me go and call her. They say that she is
of little use in the house now, being weak and weeping, and too sad
at heart to work as heretofore. They can well spare her on such an
errand, and methinks it will save her life as well as his. Let me
but go and tell her the news."
"Go, child, go. Lovers be the biggest fools in all this world of
fools! And if the women be the bigger fools, 'tis but because they
were meant to be fitting companions for the men!
"Go to, child!--bring her here, and let us see what she says to
this mad errand of this mad boy.
"And you, young sir, whilst your sister is gone, tell me all you
saw and heard in the pest house! Marry, I like your spirit in going
thither! It is the one place I long to see myself; only I am too
old to go gadding hither and thither after fine sights!"
Joseph was quite willing to indulge the old lady's morbid curiosity
as to the sights he had seen yesterday and today, as he had
journeyed back into the city in the guise of a market lad. The
things were terrible enough to satisfy even Lady Scrope, who seemed
to rejoice in an uncanny fashion over the awful devastation going
on all round.
"I'm not a saint myself," she said with unwonted gravity, "and I
never set up for one, but many has been the time when I have warned
those about me that God would not stand aside for ever looking on
at these abominations. The means were ready to His hand, and He has
taken them and used them as a scourge. And He will scourge this
wicked city yet again, if men will not amend their evil practices."
Next minute Gertrude and Dorcas came running in together, and
Gertrude almost flung herself into Joseph's arms in her eager
gratitude to him for his news, and her desire to hear everything he
could tell her.
Such a clamour of voices then arose as fairly drowned any remark
that Lady Scrope tried from time to time to throw in. Her old face
took a suddenly softened look as she watched the little scene, and
heard the words that passed amongst the young people. Presently she
went tapping away on her high-heeled shoes, and was absent for some
ten or fifteen minutes. When she came back she held in her hands a
small iron-bound box, which seemed to be very heavy for its size.
"Well," she asked in her clear, sharp tones, "and what is going to
be done next?"
"O madam, I am going to him. I can do naught else," answered
Gertrude, whose face was like an April morning, all smiles and
tears blended together. "I cannot let him lie wanting me and
wearying for me."
"Humph! I thought you had shown yourself a girl of spirit, and had
sent him about his business when he came a-wooing, eh?"
"O madam, I did so. I thought that duty bid me; but I have repented
so bitterly since! They say that 'twas since then he fell into the
melancholy which was like to make him fall ill of the distemper.
Oh, if he were to die, I should feel his blood on my head. I should
never hold it up again. I cannot let anything keep me from him now.
I must go to him in my poverty and tell him all. He must be the
judge!"
Lady Scrope uttered a little snort, although her face bore no
unkindly look.
"Child, child, thou art a veritable woman! I had thought better
things of thee, but thou art just like the rest. Thou wilt gladly
lie down in the dust, so as the one man shall trample upon thee,
whilst thou dost adore him the more for it. Go to! go to! Maids and
lovers be all alike. Fools every one of them! But for all that I
like thee. I have an old woman's fancy for thee. And since in these
days none may reckon on seeing the face of a departing friend
again, I give now into thine hands the wedding gift I have had in
mine eyes for thee.
"Nay, thank me not; and open it not save at the bedside of thy
betrothed husband--if thou art fool enough to betroth thyself to
one who as like as not will die of the plague before the week is
out.
"And now off with you both. If you tarry too long, the watch will
not believe you to be honest market folks, and will hinder your
flight. Good luck go with you; and when ye be come to the city
again--if ever that day arrive--come hither and tell me all the
tale of your folly and love. Although a wise woman myself, I have a
wondrous love of hearing tales of how other folks make havoc of
their lives by their folly."
Gertrude took the box, which amazed her by its weight, and
suggested ideas of value quite out of keeping with what she had any
reason to expect from one so little known to her as Lady Scrope.
She thanked the donor with shy gratitude, and pressed the withered
hand to her fresh young lips. Lady Scrope, a little moved despite
her cynical fashion of talking, gave her several affectionate
kisses; and then the other girls came in to see the last of their
companion, and to charge her with many messages of love for Reuben.
Joseph during this interval darted round to his father's house, to
exchange a kiss with his mother and tell her the good news. It was
indeed a happy day for the parents to hear that the son whom they
had given up for lost was living, and likely, under Gertrude's
care, to do well. They had not dared to murmur or repine. It seemed
to them little short of a miracle that death had spared to them all
their children through this fearful season. When they believed one
had at last been taken, they had learned the strength and courage
to say, "God's will be done." Yet it was happiness inexpressible to
know that he was not only living, but in the safe retreat of Mary
Harmer's cottage, and under her tender and skilful care.
So used were they now to the thought of those they loved caring for
the sick, that they had almost ceased to fear contagion so
encountered. It appeared equally busy amongst those who fled from
it. They did not even chide Joseph for the reckless curiosity which
had led the boys to adventure themselves without cause in the
fashion that had led to such notable results.
When Joseph returned to Lady Scrope's, it was to find Gertrude
arrayed in the clothes provided for her, and looking, save for her
dainty prettiness, quite like a country girl come in with
marketable wares. Such things of her own as she needed for her
sojourn, together with Lady Scrope's precious box, were put into
the barrow beneath the empty basket and sacks. Then with many
affectionate farewells the pair started forth, and talking eagerly
all the while, took their way through the solitary grass-grown
streets, away through Cripplegate, and out towards the pleasanter
regions beyond the walls.
Joseph sought to engross his companion in talk, so that she might
not see or heed too much the dismal aspect of all around them. He
himself had seen a considerable difference in the city between the
time he and Benjamin had left it and today. In places it almost
seemed as though no living soul now remained; and he observed that
foot passengers in the streets went about more recklessly than
before, with a set and desperate expression of countenance, as
though they had made up their minds to the worst, and cared little
whether their fate overtook them today or a week hence.
Gertrude's thoughts, however, were so much with Reuben, that she
heeded but little of what she saw around her. She spoke of him
incessantly, and begged again and again to hear the story of how he
had been found. Her cheek flushed a delicate rose tint each time
she heard how he had called for her ceaselessly in his delirium.
That showed her, if nothing else could convince her of it, how true
and disinterested his love was; that it was for herself he had
always wooed her, and not for any hope of the fortune she had at
one time looked to receive from her father as her marriage dowry.
When they had passed the last of the houses, and stood in the sunny
meadows, with the blue sky above them and the songs of birds in
their ears, Gertrude heaved a great sigh of relief, and her eyes
filled with tears.
"O beautiful trees and fields!" she cried; "it seems as though
nothing of danger and death could overshadow the dwellers in such
fair places."
"So Benjamin and I thought," said Joseph gravely; "but, alas, the
plague has been busy here, too. See, there is a cluster of houses
down there, and but three of them are now inhabited. The pestilence
came and smote right and left, and in some houses not one was left
alive. Still death seems not so terrible here amid these smiling
fields as it does when men are pent together in streets and lanes.
And the dead at first could be buried in their own gardens by their
friends, if they could not take them to the churchyards, which soon
refused to receive them. Many were thus saved from the horror of
the plague pit, which they so greatly dreaded. But I know not
whether it is a wise kindness so to bury them; for there were
hamlets, I am told, where the plague raged fearfully, and where the
living could scarce bury the dead."
Gertrude sighed; death and trouble did indeed seem everywhere. But
even her sorrow for others could not mar her happiness in the
prospect of seeing Reuben once again; and as they neared the place,
and Joseph pointed out the twisted chimneys and thatched roof
peeping through the sheltering trees and shrubs, the girl could not
restrain her eager footsteps, and flew on in advance of her
companion, who was retarded by his barrow.
The next minute she was eagerly kissing Benjamin (who, together
with Fido, had run out at the sound of her footsteps), and shedding
tears of joy at the news that Reuben was no worse, that there were
now no symptoms of the plague about him, but that he was perilously
weak, and needed above all things that his mind should be set at
rest.
At the sound of voices Mary Harmer came softly downstairs from the
sick man's side, and divining in a moment who the stranger was,
took her into a warm, motherly embrace, and thanked her again and
again for coming so promptly.
"Nay, it is I must thank thee for letting me come," answered
Gertrude between smiles and tears. "And now, may I not go to him? I
would not lose a moment. I am hungry for the sight of his living
face. Prithee, let me go!"
"So thou shalt, my child, in all good speed; but just at this
moment he sleeps, and thou must refresh thyself after thy long, hot
walk, that thou mayest be better able to tend him. I will not keep
thee from him, be sure, when the time comes that thou mayest go to
him."
Joseph at that moment came up with the barrow, and Gertrude found
that it was pleasant and refreshing to let Mary Harmer bathe her
face and hands and array her in her own garments. And then she sat
down to a pleasant meal of fresh country provisions, which tasted
so different from anything she had eaten these many long weeks.
The boys, who as a precautionary measure were keeping away from the
house itself until it should be quite certain that their brother
was free from infection, took their meal on the grass plot outside,
and enjoyed it mightily.
The whole scene was so different from anything upon which
Gertrude's eyes had rested for long, that tears would rise unbidden
in them, though they were tears of happiness and gratitude. The dog
Fido took to her at once, and showed her many intelligent
attentions, and was so useful altogether in fetching and carrying
that his cleverness and docility were a constant source of
amusement and wonder to all, and gave endless delight to the boys,
who spent all their spare time in training him.
Then just when the afternoon shadows were beginning to lengthen,
and the light to grow golden with the mellow September glow,
Gertrude was softly summoned to the pleasant upper chamber, which
smelt sweetly of lavender, rose leaves, and wild thyme, where
beside the open casement lay Reuben, in a snow-white bed, his face
sadly wasted and white, and his eyes closed as if in the lassitude
of utter weakness.
Mary gave Gertrude a smile, and motioned her to go up to him, which
she did very softly and with a beating heart. He did not appear to
note her footfall; but when she stood beside him, and gently spoke
his name, his eyes flashed open in a moment, and fixed themselves
upon her face, their expression growing each moment more clear and
comprehending.
"Gertrude!" he breathed in a voice whose weakness told a tale of
its own, and he moved his hand as though he would fain ascertain by
the sense of touch whether or not this was a dream.
She saw the movement, and took his hand between her own, kneeling
down beside the bed and covering it with kisses and tears.
That seemed to tell him all, without the medium of words. He asked
no question, he only lay gazing at her with a deep contentment in
his eyes. He probably knew not either where he was, or how any of
these strange things came to pass. She was with him; she was his
very own. Of that there could be no manner of doubt. And that being
so, what did anything else matter? He lay gazing at her perfectly
contented, till he fell asleep holding her hand in his.
That was the beginning of a steady if rather a slow recovery. It
was only natural indeed that Reuben should be long in regaining
strength. He had been through months of fatigue and arduous wearing
toil, and the marvel was that when the distemper attacked him in
his weakness and depression he had strength enough to throw it off.
As Mary Harmer said, it seemed sometimes as though those who went
fearlessly amongst the plague stricken became gradually inoculated
with the poison, and were thus able to rid themselves of it when it
did attack them. Reuben at least had soon thrown off his attack,
and the state of weakness into which he had fallen was less the
result of the plague than of his long and arduous labours before.
How he ever came to be in the pest house of Clerkenwell he never
could altogether explain. He remembered that business had called
him out in a northwesterly direction; and he had a dim recollection
of feeling a sick longing for a sight of the country once more, and
of bending his steps further than he need, whilst he fancied he had
entertained some notion of paying a visit to his aunt, and making
sure that his brothers had safely reached her abode. That was
probably the reason why he had come so far away from home. He had
been feeling miserably restless and wretched ever since Gertrude
had refused him, and upon that day he had an overpowering sense of
illness and weariness upon him, too. But he did not remember
feeling any alarm, or any premonition of coming sickness. He had
grown so used to escaping when others were stricken down all round,
that the sense of uncertainty which haunted all men at the
commencement of the outbreak had almost left him now. It could only
be supposed that the fever of the pestilence had come upon him, and
that he had dropped by the wayside, as so many did, and had been
carried into the farm house by some compassionate person, or by one
of the bearers whose duty it was to keep the highways clear of such
objects of public peril. But he knew nothing of his own condition,
and had had no real gleam of consciousness, until he opened his
eyes in his aunt's house to find Gertrude bending over him.
There was no shadow between them now. Gertrude's surrender was as
complete as Lady Scrope had foreseen. She used now to laugh with
Reuben over the sayings of that redoubtable old dame, and wonder
what she would think of them could she see them now. The box she
had entrusted to Gertrude had been given into Mary Harmer's care
for the present, till Reuben should be strong enough to enjoy the
excitement of opening it. But upon the first day that saw him down
in the little parlour, lying upon the couch that had been made
ready to receive him, Joseph eagerly clamoured to have the box
brought down and opened; and his wish being seconded by all, Mary
Harmer quickly produced it, and it was set upon a little table at
the side of the couch.
"Have you the key?" asked Reuben of Gertrude, and she produced it
from her neck, round which it had been hanging all this while by a
silken cord.
"It felt almost like a love token," she said with a little blush,
"for she told me I was not to open it save at the side of my
betrothed husband!"
Now, amid breathless silence, she fitted the key into the lock and
raised the lid. That disclosed a layer of soft packing, which, when
removed, left the contents exposed to view.
"Oh!" cried Joseph and Benjamin in tones of such wonder that Fido
must needs rear himself upon his hind legs to get a peep, too; but
he was soon satisfied, for he saw nothing very interesting in the
yellow contents of the wooden box, which neither smelt nice nor
were good for food. But the lovers looked across at each other in
speechless amazement.
For the box was filled to the brim with neatly piled heaps of
golden guineas--the first guineas ever struck in this country; so
called from the fact that they were made of Guinea gold brought
from Africa by one of the trading companies, and first coined in
the year 1662. And a quick calculation, based upon the counting of
one of these upright heaps, showed that the box contained five
hundred of these golden coins, which as yet were only just coming
into general circulation.
"Oh," cried Gertrude in amaze, "what can she have done it for? And
they call Lady Scrope a miser!"
"Misers often have strange fancies; and Lady Scrope has always been
one of the strangest and most unaccountable of her sex," said
Reuben. "I cannot explain it one whit. It is of a piece with much
of her inscrutable life. All we can do is to give her our gratitude
for her munificence. She has neither kith nor kin to wrong by her
strange liberality to thee, sweet Gertrude; nor can I marvel that
she should have come to love thee so well. Sweet heart, this money
will purchase the house upon the bridge which thy father tells us
he is forced to sell. I had thought that I would buy it of him for
our future home. But thou hast the first claim. At least, now the
place is safe. What is mine is thine, and what is thine is mine,
and we will together make the purchase, and give him a home with us
beneath the old roof.
"Will that make you happy, dear heart? Methinks it will please Lady
Scrope that her golden hoard should help in such an act of filial
love!"
And Gertrude could only weep tears of pure happiness on her lover's
shoulder, and marvel how it was that such untold joy had come to
her in the midst of the very shadow of death.