In some
streets every house bore the sign of a red cross, and the tolling of
the bells of the dead-carts and piteous cries and lamentations were
the only sounds that broke the strange silence.
The scene was so disheartening that Cyril did not leave the house
again for another fortnight. His first visit was to Mr. Wallace. The
sight of a watchman at the door gave him quite a shock, and he was
grieved indeed when he heard from the man that the brave minister had
died a fortnight before. Then he went to Mr. Harvey's. There was no
mark on the door, but his repeated knockings met with no response,
and a woman, looking out from a window opposite, called to him that
the house had been empty for well-nigh a month, and the people that
were in it had gone off in a cart, she supposed into the country.
"There was a gentleman and lady," she said, "who seemed well enough,
and their servant, who was carried down and placed in the cart. It
could not have been the Plague, though the man looked as if he had
been sorely ill."
The next day he called on Dr. Hodges, who had not been near him for
the last month. There was no watchman at the door, and his man opened
it.
"Can I see the doctor?"
"Ay, you can see him," he said; "he is cured now, and will soon be
about again."
"Has he had the Plague, then?"
"That he has, but it is a week now since the watchman left."
Cyril went upstairs. The doctor was sitting, looking pale and thin,
by the window.
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