e came into London. We
put up for the night at a decent inn, kept by some people named Bell,
which our father had sometimes used when we were with him; the people
remembered him, and were civil to us. My poor sister could scarce sleep
all that night; and the landlady coming herself to wait on us at
breakfast, Althea took occasion to ask her, did she know Mr. John Dacre?
and finding she did, she got from her particular information about his
house, and the way to it, and the hours when he was to be found there;
all which the good woman imparted cheerfully, but could not help pitying
our rashness in coming up to town.

'I live a dying life,' she said, 'for terror of the contagion; I would
never have run into it;' which words we passed over at that time, but
had to call them to mind after.

According to her information, Mr. Dacre rarely stirred from home before
noon; so we set off betimes to find him. Will, walking behind us, looked
about in amaze at the half empty streets, the many closed shops, and
houses uninhabited, and at last, fetching a great sigh, he said,--

'Methinks, mistresses, this whole town looks like a gaol, and the folk
go about like condemned prisoners.'

'Ay,' says Althea; 'but there are worse gaols within this gaol, Will.
Here, the sun shines and the wind blows on us; not so where your master
lies;' and she hastened her steps, which were swift before.

Mr. Dacre's house proved to be a very stately and fair one, towards the
west end of the town; it stood in a broad, very quiet street; too quiet,
I thought. Althea bade Will knock boldly at the door; 'We will not be
too humble,' says she; and he knocked loudly enough, once, twice,
thrice; but no one came to open to us, and our knocking seemed to echo
and re-echo strangely through the house.

'Sure,' says Althea, 'all the folks cannot be asleep; 'tis past ten
o'clock,' and she knocked once more.

There was a gentleman come out of a neighbouring house, who had looked
curiously at us; he now drew near, and, standing a little way off,
called out, 'It is little use to knock at that door, ladies--the master
is dead a week since, and the house stands empty;' at which Althea
turned a deadly pale face to him, saying,--

'Do not mock us--sure, it cannot be so.'

The man, looking compassionately at her, now came up to us and said,
'Nay, my words are too true, madam. Have you any interest in this Mr.
Dacre?'

'I am his cousin,' said Althea, 'and I am come u