The Sign of the Red Cross | Page 2

went about clad in much the same fashion as his neighbours,
save that the materials of his clothing were finer, and his frills more
white and crisp; and it was in his favour that his friendship with his old
friend James Harmer had never waned, although he knew that this
honest tradesman by no means approved his methods.
Perhaps in his heart of hearts he preferred the comfortable living room

of his neighbour to the grandeur insisted upon by his wife at home. At
any rate, he found his way three or four evenings in the week to
Harmer's fireside, and exchanged with him the news of the day, or
retailed the current gossip of the city.
Harmer was by trade a gold and silver lace maker. He carried on his
business in the roomy bridge house which he occupied, which was
many stories high, and contained a great number of rooms. He housed
in it a large family, several apprentices, two shopmen, and his wife's
sister, Dinah Morse, at such times as the latter was not out nursing the
sick, which was her avocation in life.
Mason and Harmer had been boys together, had inherited these two
houses on the bridge from their respective fathers, and had both
prospered in the world. But Harmer was only a moderately affluent
man, having many sons and daughters to provide for; whereas Mason
had but one of each, and had more than one string to his bow in the
matter of money getting.
In the living room of Harmer's house were assembled that February
evening six persons. It was just growing dusk, but the dancing firelight
gave a pleasant illumination. Harmer and Mason were seated on
opposite sides of the hearth in straight-backed wooden armchairs, and
both were smoking. Rachel sat at her wheel, with her sister Dinah near
to her; and in the background hovered two fine-looking young men, the
two eldest sons of the household--Reuben, his father's right-hand man
in business matters now; and Dan, who had the air and appearance of a
sailor ashore, as, indeed, was the case with him.
It was something which Dinah Morse had said that had evoked the
rather fierce disclaimer from the Master Builder, with the rejoinder by
Rachel as to the laxity of the times; and now it was Dinah's voice which
again took up the word.
"Whether it be God's judgment upon the city, or whether it be due to
the carelessness of man, I know not," answered Dinah quietly; "I only
say that the Bill of Mortality just published is higher than it has been
this long while, and that two in the Parish of St. Giles have died of the

plague."
"Well, St. Giles' is far enough away from us," said the Master Builder.
"If the Magistrates do their duty, there is no fear that it will spread our
way. There were deaths over yonder of the plague last November, and
it seems as though they had not yet stamped out the germs of it. But a
little firmness and sense will do that. We have nothing to fear. So long
as the cases are duly reported, we shall soon be rid of the pest."
Dinah pressed her lips rather closely together. She had that fine resolute
cast of countenance which often characterizes those who are constantly
to be found at the bedside of the sick. Her dress was very plain, and she
wore a neckerchief of soft, white Indian muslin about her throat,
instead of the starched yellow one which was almost universal amongst
the women citizens of the day. Her hands were large and white and
capable looking. Her only ornament was a chatelaine of many chains,
to which were suspended the multifarious articles which a nurse has in
constant requisition. In figure she was tall and stately, and in the street
strangers often paused to give her a backward glance. She was greatly
in request amongst the sick of the better class, though she was often to
be found beside the sick poor, who could give her nothing but thanks
for her skilled tendance of them.
"Ay, truly, so long as the cases are duly reported," she repeated slowly.
"But do you think, sir, that that is ever done where means may be found
to avoid it?"
The Master Builder looked a little startled at the question.
"Surely all good folks would wish to do what was right by their
neighbours. They would not harbour a case of plague, and not make it
known in the right quarter."
"You think not, perhaps. Had you seen as much of the sick as I have,
you would know that men so fear and dread the distemper, as they most
often call it, that they will blind their eyes to it