re visited, a day or two after the earthquake, by an old
acquaintance of Isoult, the companion--"servant" he was called at that
time--of Bishop Latimer. Augustine Bernher was by nation a
German-Swiss, probably from Basle or its vicinity; and unless we are to
take an expression in one of Bradford's letters as figurative, he
married the sister of John Bradford.

Like every one else just then, Bernher's mind was running chiefly on the
earthquake. He brought news that it had been felt at Croydon, Reigate,
and nearly all over Kent; and the question on all lips was--What will
come of it? For that it was a prognostic of some fearful calamity, no
one thought of doubting.

Whether the earthquake were its forerunner or not, a fearful calamity
did certainly follow. On the 7th of July the sweating sickness broke
out in London. This terrible malady was almost peculiar to the
sixteenth century. It was unknown before the Battle of Bosworth Field,
in 1485, when it broke out in the ranks of the victorious army; and it
has never been seen again since this, its last and most fatal epidemic,
in 1551. It is said to have been of the character of rheumatic fever,
but its virulence and rapidity were scarcely precedented. In some cases
death ensued two hours only after the attack; and few fatal instances
were prolonged to two days. On the tenth of July, the King was hurried
away to Hampton Court, for one of his grooms and a gentleman of the
chamber were already dead. The fury of the plague, for a veritable
plague it was, began to abate in London on the 20th; and between the 7th
and 20th died in the City alone, about nine hundred persons [Note 2].
Nor was the disease confined to London. It broke out at Cambridge--in
term time--decimating the University. The Duchess of Suffolk, who was
residing there to be near her sons, both of whom were then at Saint
John's, hastily sent away her boys to Bugden, the Bishop of Lincoln's
Palace. But the destroying angel followed. The young Duke and his
brother reached Bugden on the afternoon of July 13; and at noon on the
following day, the Duchess was childless.

The suspense was dreadful to those who lived in and near London. Every
day Isoult watched to see her children sicken--for children were the
chief victims of the malady; and on the 15th, when Walter complained of
his head, and shivered even in the July sun, she felt certain that the
sword of the angel had reached to her. The revulsion o