When the household parted at night in the Hampstead cottage, there were solemn farewells said; none knew if they should meet again upon the morrow. The youthful Mercy, more ardent than her mother, had overcome her first fears; she still waited upon Edith with eager reverence and admiration; but she went forth with her no more, Edith desiring this as heartily as did Dame Rogers herself. Hitherto, the plague had not approached them, and John Goodman cherished his guests as the olden prince and patriarch cherished the angels whom he entertained unawares. They were a blessing to the humble house that sheltered them--and so thought his kindly, timid sister, though she feared these frequent visitations, which exposed her young guest to all manner of perils, and scarcely thought the danger of dwelling beside one who relieved many smitten households every day, counterbalanced by the efficacy of the good man’s prayers--the daily supplications in which the minister craved the protection of God. July, August--serene and beautiful--the brightest time of all the year, passed on, drawing out its long, fair days in torment, rising and sinking on such woeful sufferers as never English skies beheld before. The mellow days of September had begun. Upon one soft harvest evening, when the moon was already in the sky, though the heavens were still bright with ruddy sunshine, Edith was returning weary from her labor. The pestilence was reaching its height--still rising, alas! Her road lay between two fields, along the extreme verge of one of which, was the highway to London. It was a very lonely, quiet by-way, a little raised from the level of the fields, bordered with old hawthorns bending down over them; and the air about her was fresh, and sweet, and healthful, hushed with the calm of the sunset. She was not far from home when Sir Philip Dacre joined her; the rich dress of his rank was laid aside; he wore plain apparel, like some humble scholar, or member of the grave profession, to which, in reality, in this exigent time he belonged. He had not been sparing of his time or strength; but at even greater peril than his ministerial friends, had labored faithfully as an assistant to Doctor Newton ever since he made up his mind to remain in London. “Is the Lady Dacre still dwelling in Westminster?” asked Edith, when, after some conversation on the one great matter which occupied all minds and thoughts, they had walked on for some time in silence. “My mother!” said Sir Philip. “Alas! Mistress Edith I find it impossible to move her. She knows not fear; and now when she has remained so long in safety, her over-boldness is increased; so that I hope only for the ebbing of this evil tide, which as learned men of the faculty calculate--if we may dare to calculate that which hath its rising and its falling in the good-will of God--should reach to its highest flood ere long. God send it were but ebbing, or surely the despair of this people will make them mad.”