"Yes; I saw them the day before I was taken ill," the doctor said, "and told them that the man was so far out of danger that he might safely be moved. They seemed very interested in you, and were very pleased when I told them that I had now given up attending you, and that you were able to walk across the room, and would, erelong, be yourself again. I hope we are getting to the end of it now, lad. As the Plague travels East it abates in the West, and the returns for the last week show a distinct fall in the rate of mortality. There is no further East for it to go now, and I hope that in another few weeks it will have worn itself out. We are half through October, and may look for cold weather before long."

"I should think that I am strong enough to be useful again now, sir."

"I don't think you are strong enough, and I am sure I shall not give you leave to do so," the doctor said. "I can hardly say how far a first attack is a protection against a second, for the recoveries have been so few that we have scarce means of knowing, but there certainly have been cases where persons have recovered from a first attack and died from a second. Your treatment is too severe to be gone through twice, and it is, therefore, more essential that you should run no risk of infection than it was before. I can see that you are still very far from strong, and your duty now is, in the first place, to regain your health. I should say get on board a hoy and go to Yarmouth. A week in the bracing air there would do you more good than six months here. But it is useless to give you that advice, because, in the first place, no shipping comes up the river, and, even if you could get down to Yarmouth by road, no one would receive you. Still, that is what I should do myself as soon as I could get away, were it not that, in my case, I have my duties here."

"But, doctor, what you said to me surely applies to yourself also?" Cyril said, with a smile.

"I know that," the doctor said good-humouredly, "and expected it, but it is not for a doctor to choose. He is not free, like other men; he has adopted a vocation in which it is his first duty to go among the sick, whatever their ailment may be, to do all that he can for them, and if, as in the present case, he can do practically nothing else, to set them an example of calmness and fearlessness. Still, for a time, at any rate, I shall be able to go no more into houses where the Plague is raging. 'Tis more than a month since you were cured, yet you are still a mere shadow of what you were. I had a much harder fight with the enemy, and cannot walk across the room yet without William's help. Therefore, it will be a fortnight or three weeks yet before I can see patients, and much longer before I shall have strength to visit them in their houses. By that time I trust that the Plague will have very greatly abated. Thus, you see, I shall not be called upon to stand face to face with it for some time. Those who call upon me here are seldom Plague-stricken. They come for other ailments, or because they feel unwell, and are nervous lest it should be the beginning of an attack; but of late I have had very few come here. My patients are mostly of the middle class, and these have either fled or fallen victims to the Plague, or have shut themselves up in their houses like fortresses, and nothing would tempt them to issue abroad. Therefore, I expect that I shall have naught to do but to gain strength again. Come here when you will, lad, and the oftener the better. Conversation is the best medicine for both of us, and as soon as I can I will visit you. I doubt not that John Wilkes has many a story of the sea that will take our thoughts away from this sad city. Bring him with you sometimes; he is an honest fellow, and the talk of sailors so smacks of the sea that it seems almost to act as a tonic."

Cyril stayed for an hour, and promised to return on the following evening. He said, however, that he was sure John Wilkes would not accompany him.

"He never leaves the house unless I am in it. He considers himself on duty; and although, as I tell him, there is little fear of anyone breaking in, seeing how many houses with much more valuable and more portable goods are empty and deserted, he holds to his purpose, saying that, even with the house altogether empty, it would be just as much his duty to remain in charge."

"Well, come yourself, Cyril. If we cannot get this old watch-dog out I must wait until I can go to him."

"I shall be very glad to come, doctor, for time hangs heavily on my hands. John Wilkes spends hours every day in washing and scrubbing decks, as he calls it, and there are but few books in the house."

"As to that, I can furnish you, and will do so gladly. Go across to the shelves there, and choose for yourself."

"Thank you very much indeed, sir. But will you kindly choose for me? I have read but few English books, for of course in France my reading was entirely French."

"Then take Shakespeare. I hold his writings to be the finest in our tongue. I know them nearly by heart, for there is scarce an evening when I do not take him down for an hour, and reading him I forget the worries and cares of my day's work, which would otherwise often keep me from sleep. 'Tis a bulky volume, but do not let that discourage you; it is full of wit and wisdom, and of such romance that you will often find it hard to lay it down. Stay—I have two editions, and can well spare one of them, so take the one on that upper shelf, and keep it when you have read it. There is but little difference between them, but I generally use the other, and have come to look upon it as a friend."

"Nay, sir, I will take it as a loan."

"You will do nothing of the sort. I owe you a fee, and a bumping one."

Henceforth Cyril did not find his time hang heavy on his hands. It seemed to him, as he sat at the window and read, that a new world opened to him. His life had been an eminently practical one. He had studied hard in France, and when he laid his books aside his time had been spent in the open air. It was only since he had been with Captain Dave that he had ever read for amusement, and the Captain's library consisted only of a few books of travels and voyages. He had never so much as dreamt of a book like this, and for the next few days he devoured its pages.

"You are not looking so well, Cyril," Dr. Hodges said to him abruptly one day.

"I am doing nothing but reading Shakespeare, doctor."

"Then you are doing wrong, lad. You will never build yourself up unless you take exercise."

"The streets are so melancholy, doctor, and whenever I go out I return sick at heart and in low spirits."

"That I can understand, lad. But we must think of something," and he sat for a minute or two in silence. Then he said suddenly, "Do you understand the management of a boat?"

"Yes, doctor; it was my greatest pleasure at Dunkirk to be out with the fishermen."

"That will do, then. Go down at once to the riverside. There are hundreds of boats lying idle there, for there are no passengers and no trade, and half of their owners are dead. You are sure to see some men there; having nothing else to do, some will be hanging about. Say you want to hire a boat for a couple of months or to buy one. You will probably get one for a few shillings. Get one with a sail as well as oars. Go out the first thing after breakfast, and go up or down the river as the tide or wind may suit. Take some bread and meat with you, and don't return till supper-time. Then you can spend your evenings with Shakespeare. Maybe I myself will come down and take a sail with you sometimes. That will bring the colour back into your cheeks, and make a new man of you. Would that I had thought of it before!"

Cyril was delighted with the idea, and, going down to Blackfriars, bought a wherry with a sail for a pound. Its owner was dead, but he learned where the widow lived, and effected the bargain without difficulty, for she was almost starving.

"I have bought it," he said, "because it may be that I may get it damaged or sunk; but I only need it for six weeks or two months, and at the end of that time I will give it you back again. As soon as the Plague is over there will be work for boats, and you will be able to let it, or to sell it at a fair price."

John Wilkes was greatly pleased when Cyril came back and told him what he had done.

"That is the very thing for you," he said. "I have been a thick-head not to think of it. I have been worrying for the last week at seeing you sit there and do nothing but read, and yet there seemed nothing else for you to do, for ten minutes out in the streets is enough to give one the heartache. Maybe I will go out for a sail with you myself sometimes, for there is no fear of the house being broken into by daylight."

"Not in the slightest, John. I hope that you will come out with me always. I should soon find it dull by myself, and besides, I don't think that I am strong enough yet to manage a pair of sculls for long, and one must reckon occasionally on having to row against the tide. Even if the worst happened, and anyone did break in and carry off a few things, I am sure Captain Dave would not grumble at the loss when he knew that I had wanted you to come out and help me to manage the boat, which I was ordered to use for my health's sake."

"That he wouldn't," John said heartily; "not if they stripped the house and shop of everything there was in them."

CHAPTER XVIII
A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE

Having finally disposed of John Wilkes's scruples as to leaving the house during the daytime, Cyril thenceforth went out with him every day. If the tide was in flood they rowed far up the river, and came down on the ebb. If it was running out they went down as far as it would take them. Whenever the wind was favourable they hoisted the sail; at other times, they rowed. The fresh air, and the exercise, soon did their work. Cyril at first could only take one scull, and that only for a short time, but at the end of a fortnight was able to manage both for a time, or to row with one for hours. The feeling of lassitude which had oppressed him passed away speedily, the colour came back to his cheeks, his muscles strengthened, and he began to put on flesh.

They were now in November, and needed warm garments when on the water, and John insisted on completely muffling him up whenever they hoisted the sail; but the colder weather braced him up, and he was often inclined to shout with pleasure as the wind drove the boat along before it.

It was cheering to know that others were benefiting by the change. In the week ending October 3rd the deaths officially given were 4,328, though at least another thousand must be added to this, for great numbers of deaths from the Plague were put down to other causes, and very many, especially those of infants, were never counted at all. It was said that as many people were infected as ever, but that the virulence of the disease was abated, and that, whereas in August scarce one of those attacked recovered, in October but one out of every three died of the malady.

In the second week of October, the number of deaths by the Plague was but 2,665, and only 1,250 in the third week, though great numbers were still attacked. People, however, grew careless, and ran unnecessary risks, and, in consequence, in the first week of November the number of deaths rose by 400. After this it decreased rapidly, and the people who had fled began to come back again—the more so because it had now spread to other large cities, and it seemed that there was less danger in London, where it had spent its force, than in places where it had but lately broken out. The shops began to open again, and the streets to reassume their former appearance.

Cyril had written several times to Captain Dowsett, telling him how matters were going on, and in November, hearing that they were thinking of returning, he wrote begging them not to do so.

"Many of those who have returned have fallen sick, and died," he said. "It seems to me but a useless risk of life, after taking so much pains to avoid infection, to hurry back before the danger has altogether passed. In your case, Captain Dave, there is the less reason for it, since there is no likelihood of the shipping trade being renewed for the present. All the ports of Europe are closed to our ships, and it is like to be a long time before they lose fear of us. Even the coasting trade is lost for the present. Therefore, my advice is very strongly against your returning for some weeks. All is going on well here. I am getting quite strong again, and, by the orders of the doctor, go out with John daily for a long row, and have gained much benefit from it. John sends his respects. He says that everything is ship-shape above and below, and the craft holding well on her way. He also prays you not to think of returning at present, and says that it would be as bad seamanship, as for a captain who has made a good offing in a gale, and has plenty of sea-room, to run down close to a rocky shore under the lee, before the storm has altogether blown itself out."

Captain Dave took the advice, and only returned with his wife and Nellie a week before Christmas.

"I am glad indeed to be back," he said, after the first greetings were over. "'Twas well enough for the women, who used to help in the dairy, and to feed the fowls, and gather the eggs, and make the butter, but for me there was nothing to do, and it seemed as if the days would never come to an end."

"It was not so bad as that, father," Nellie said. "First of all, you had your pipe to smoke. Then, once a week you used to go over with the market-cart to Gloucester and to look at the shipping there, and talk with the masters and sailors. Then, on a Sunday, of course, there was church. So there were only five days each week to get through; and you know you took a good deal of interest in the horses and cows and pigs."

"I tried to take an interest in them, Nellie; but it was very hard work."

"Well, father, that is just what you were saying you wanted, and I am sure you spent hours every day walking about with the children, or telling them stories."

"Well, perhaps, when I think of it, it was not so very bad after all," Captain Dave admitted. "At any rate, I am heartily glad I am back here again. We will open the shop to-morrow morning, John."

"That we will, master. We sha'n't do much trade at present. Still, a few coasters have come in, and I hope that every day things will get better. Besides, all the vessels that have been lying in the Pool since June will want painting up and getting into trim again before they sail out of the river, so things may not be so slack after all. You will find everything in order in the store. I have had little to do but to polish up brass work and keep the metal from rusting. When do the apprentices come back again?"

"I shall write for them as soon as I find that there is something for them to do. You are not thinking of running away as soon as we come back I hope, Cyril? You said, when you last wrote, that you were fit for sea again."

"I am not thinking of going for some little time, if you will keep me, Captain Dave. There is no news of the Fleet fitting out at present, and they will not want us on board till they are just ready to start. They say that Albemarle is to command this time instead of the Duke, at which I am right glad, for he has fought the Dutch at sea many times, and although not bred up to the trade, he has shown that he can fight as steadily on sea as on land. All say the Duke showed courage and kept a firm countenance at Lowestoft, but there was certainly great slackness in the pursuit, though this, 'tis said, was not so much his fault as that of those who were over-careful of his safety. Still, as he is the heir to the throne, it is but right that he should be kept out of the fighting."

"It is like to be stern work next time, Cyril, if what I hear be true. Owing partly to all men's minds being occupied by the Plague, and partly to the great sums wasted by the King in his pleasures, nothing whatever has been done for the Fleet. Of course, the squadron at sea has taken great numbers of prizes; but the rest of the Fleet is laid up, and no new ships are being built, while they say that the Dutch are busy in all their ship-yards, and will send out a much stronger fleet this spring than that which fought us at Lowestoft. I suppose you have not heard of any of your grand friends?"

"No. I should have written to Sydney Oliphant, but I knew not whether he was at sea or at home, and, moreover, I read that most folks in the country are afraid of letters from London, thinking that they might carry contagion. Many noblemen have now returned to the West End, and when I hear that the Earl has also come back with his family it will, of course, be my duty to wait upon him, and on Prince Rupert also. But I hope the Prince will not be back yet, for he will be wanting me to go to Court again, and for this, in truth, I have no inclination, and, moreover, it cannot be done without much expense for clothes, and I have no intention to go into expenses on follies or gew-gaws, or to trench upon the store of money that I had from you, Captain Dave."

They had just finished breakfast on the day before Christmas, when one of the apprentices came up from the shop and said that one Master Goldsworthy, a lawyer in the Temple, desired to speak to Sir Cyril Shenstone. Cyril was about to go down when Captain Dave said,—

"Show the gentleman up, Susan. We will leave you here to him, Cyril."

"By no means," Cyril said. "I do not know him, and he can assuredly have no private business with me that you may not hear."

Mrs. Dowsett and her daughter, however, left the room. The lawyer, a grave-looking gentleman of some fifty years of age, glanced at Cyril and the Captain as he entered the room, and then advanced towards the former.

"My name is unknown to you, Sir Cyril," he said, "but it has been said that a bearer of good news needs no introduction, and I come in that capacity. I bring you, sir, a Christmas-box," and he took from a bag he carried a bundle of some size, and a letter. "Before you open it, sir, I will explain the character of its contents, which would take you some time to decipher and understand, while I can explain them in a very few words. I may tell you that I am the legal adviser of Mr. Ebenezer Harvey, of Upmead Court, Norfolk. You are, I presume, familiar with the name?"

Cyril started. Upmead Court was the name of his father's place, but with the name of its present owner he was not familiar. Doubtless, he might sometimes have heard it from his father, but the latter, when he spoke of the present possessor of the Court, generally did so as "that Roundhead dog," or "that canting Puritan."

"The Court I know, sir," he said gravely, "as having once been my father's, but I do not recall the name of its present owner, though it may be that in my childhood my father mentioned it in my hearing."

"Nevertheless, sir, you know the gentleman himself, having met him, as he tells me, frequently at the house of Mr. Wallace, who was minister of the chapel at which he worshipped, and who came up to London to minister to those sorely afflicted and needing comfort. Not only did you meet with Mr. Harvey and his wife, but you rendered to them very material service."

"I was certainly unaware," Cyril said, "that Mr. Harvey was the possessor of what had been my father's estate, but, had I known it, it would have made no difference in my feeling towards him. I found him a kind and godly gentleman whom, more than others there, was good enough to converse frequently with me, and to whom I was pleased to be of service."

"The service was of a most important nature," the lawyer said, "being nothing less than the saving of his life, and probably that of his wife. He sent for me the next morning, and then drew out his will. By that will he left to you the estates which he had purchased from your father."

Cyril gave a start of surprise, and would have spoken, but Master Goldsworthy held up his hand, and said,—

"Please let me continue my story to the end. This act was not the consequence of the service that you had rendered him. He had previously consulted me on the subject, and stated his intentions to me. He had met you at Mr. Wallace's, and at once recognised your name, and learnt from Mr. Wallace that you were the son of Sir Aubrey Shenstone. He studied your character, had an interview with Dr. Hodges, and learnt how fearlessly you were devoting yourself to the work of aiding those stricken with the Plague. With his own son he had reason for being profoundly dissatisfied. The young man had thrown off his authority, had become a notorious reprobate, and had, he believed, sunk down to become a companion of thieves and highwaymen. He had come up to London solely to make a last effort to save him from his evil courses and to give him a chance of reformation by sending him out to New England.

"Mr. Harvey is possessed of considerable property in addition to the estates purchased of your father, for, previous to that purchase he had been the owner of large tanneries at Norwich, which he has ever since maintained, not so much for the sake of the income he derived from them as because they afforded a livelihood to a large number of workmen. He had, therefore, ample means to leave to his son, should the latter accept his offer and reform his life, without the estates of Upmead. When he saw you, he told me his conscience was moved. He had, of course, a legal right to the estates, but he had purchased them for a sum not exceeding a fifth of their value, and he considered that in the twenty years he had held them he had drawn from them sums amply sufficient to repay him for the price he had given for them, and had received a large interest on the money in addition. He questioned, therefore, strongly whether he had any right longer to retain them.

"When he consulted me on the subject, he alluded to the fact that, by the laws of the Bible, persons who bought lands were bound to return the land to its former possessors, at the end of seven times seven years. He had already, then, made up his mind to leave that portion of his property to you, when you rendered him that great service, and at the same time it became, alas! but too evident to him that his son was hopelessly bad, and that any money whatever left to him would assuredly be spent in evil courses, and would do evil rather than good. Therefore, when I came in the morning to him he said,—

"'My will must be made immediately. Not one penny is to go to my son. I may be carried off to-morrow by the Plague, or my son may renew his attempt with success. So I must will it away from him at once. For the moment, therefore, make a short will bequeathing the estate of Upmead to Sir Cyril Shenstone, all my other possessions to my wife for her lifetime, and at her death also to Sir Cyril Shenstone.

"'I may alter this later on,' he said, 'but for the present I desire chiefly to place them beyond my son's reach. Please draw up the document at once, for no one can say what half an hour may bring forth to either of us. Get the document in form by this evening, when some friends will be here to witness it. Pray bring your two clerks also!'

"A few days later he called upon me again.

"'I have been making further inquiries about Sir Cyril Shenstone,' he said, 'and have learnt much concerning him from a man who is in the employment of the trader with whom he lives. What I have learnt more than confirms me in my impression of him. He came over from France, three years ago, a boy of scarce fourteen. He was clever at figures, and supported his reprobate father for the last two years of his life by keeping the books of small traders in the City. So much was he esteemed that, at his father's death, Captain Dowsett offered him a home in his house. He rewarded the kindness by making the discovery that the trader was being foully robbed, and brought about the arrest of the thieves, which incidentally led to the breaking-up of one of the worst gangs of robbers in London. Later on he found that his employer's daughter was in communication with a hanger-on of the Court, who told her that he was a nobleman. The young fellow set a watch upon her, came upon her at the moment she was about to elope with this villain, ran him through the shoulder, and took her back to her home, and so far respected her secret that her parents would never have known of it had she not, some time afterwards, confessed it to them. That villain, Mr. Goldsworthy,' he said, 'was my son! Just after that Sir Cyril obtained the good will of the Earl of Wisbech, whose three daughters he saved from being burnt to death at a fire in the Savoy. Thus, you see, this youth is in every way worthy of good fortune, and can be trusted to administer the estate of his fathers worthily and well. I wish you to draw out, at once, a deed conveying to him these estates, and rehearsing that, having obtained them at a small price, and having enjoyed them for a time long enough to return to me the money I paid for them with ample interest thereon, I now return them to him, confident that they will be in good hands, and that their revenues will be worthily spent.'

"In this parcel is the deed in question, duly signed and witnessed, together with the parchments, deeds, and titles of which he became possessed at his purchase of the estate. I may say, Sir Cyril, that I have never carried out a legal transfer with greater pleasure to myself, considering, as I do, that the transaction is alike just and honourable on his part and most creditable to yourself. He begged me to hand the deeds to you myself. They were completed two months since, but he himself suggested that I should bring them to you on Christmas Eve, when it is the custom for many to give to their friends tokens of their regard and good will. I congratulate you heartily, sir, and rejoice that, for once, merit has met with a due reward."

"I do not know, sir," Cyril replied, "how I can express my feelings of deep pleasure and gratitude at the wonderful tidings you have brought me. I had set it before me as the great object of my life, that, some day, should I live to be an old man, I might be enabled to repurchase the estate of my father's. I knew how improbable it was that I should ever be able to do so, and I can scarce credit that what seemed presumptuous even as a hope should have thus been so strangely and unexpectedly realised. I certainly do not feel that it is in any way due to what you are good enough to call my merits, for in all these matters that you have spoken of there has been nothing out of the way, or, so far as I can see, in any way praiseworthy, in what I have done. It would seem, indeed, that in all these matters, and in the saving of my life from the Plague, things have arranged themselves so as to fall out for my benefit."

"That is what Mr. Harvey feels very strongly, Sir Cyril. He has told me, over and over again, that it seemed to him that the finger of God was specially manifest in thus bringing you together, and in placing you in a position to save his life. And now I will take my leave. I may say that in all legal matters connected with the estate I have acted for Mr. Harvey, and should be naturally glad if you will continue to entrust such matters to me. I have some special facilities in the matter, as Mr. Popham, a lawyer of Norwich, is married to my daughter, and we therefore act together in all business connected with the estate, he performing what may be called the local business, while I am advised by him as to matters requiring attention here in London."

"I shall be glad indeed if you and Mr. Popham will continue to act in the same capacity for me," Cyril said warmly. "I am, as you see, very young, and know nothing of the management of an estate, and shall be grateful if you will, in all matters, act for me until I am of an age to assume the duties of the owner of Upmead."

"I thank you, Sir Cyril, and we shall, I trust, afford you satisfaction. The deed, you will observe, is dated the 29th of September, the day on which it was signed, though there have been other matters to settle. The tenants have already been notified that from that date they are to regard you as their landlord. Now that you authorise us to act for you, my son-in-law will at once proceed to collect the rents for this quarter. I may say that, roughly, they amount to seventeen hundred pounds a year, and as it may be a convenience to you to draw at once, if it so please you I will place, on Monday next, the sum of four hundred pounds to your credit with Messrs. Murchison and Graham, who are my bankers, or with any other firm you may prefer."

"With the bankers you name, by all means," Cyril said; "and I thank you heartily for so doing, for as I shall shortly rejoin the Fleet, a portion, at least, of the money will be very useful to me."

Mr. Goldsworthy took his hat.

"There is one thing further I have forgotten. Mr. Harvey requested me to say that he wished for no thanks in this matter. He regards it as an act of rightful restitution, and, although you will doubtless write to him, he would be pleased if you will abstain altogether from treating it as a gift."

"I will try to obey his wishes," Cyril said, "but it does not seem to me that it will be possible for me to abstain from any expression of gratitude for his noble act."

Cyril accompanied the lawyer to the door, and then returned upstairs.

"Now I can speak," Captain Dowsett said. "I have had hard work to keep a stopper on my tongue all this time, for I have been well-nigh bursting to congratulate you. I wish you joy, my lad," and he wrung Cyril's hand heartily, "and a pleasant voyage through life. I am as glad, ay, and a deal more glad than if such a fortune had come in my way, for it would have been of little use to me, seeing I have all that the heart of man could desire."