`To steal or not to steal—that is the question.'

The young men took their way at a rapid pace along the path
down to the village and entering the silent Main street, were seen
a few moments afterwards in the lane leading to the cottage. As
they approached the white gate that opened upon a narrow lawn
and flower-garden, they saw the hackney coach standing beneath
an elm and the horses unharnessed grazing near by. Bent resolutely
on their purpose they did not avoid the carriage but passing
near it, entered the portico of the dwelling. Eustace stopped a moment
to listen—all was still, and their worst fears as to the fate of
the noble young man were confirmed.

`Let us enter and know the worst,' he said passing into the hall.
The door of the parlor was open and Eustace entered it with a
slow and noiseless tread, with awe at his heart. Stretched on a sofa
with a pillow beneath his head, lay the dead, unsightly body of
Frederick Orne. From the appearance life had been extinct several
hours. The face was black, and the room was tainted and
deadly. By the side of the pillow was a low chair, in which the
child had evidently sat to watch by him until he died? and when
death came she fled in fear—But death was not so hard of heart as
the living with whom she would have sought protection.

The young men stood a moment and gazed with horror and commissiration
upon the corpse of their late friend and companion.

`Noble fellow!' said Eustace with deep feeling. `He has sacrificed
himself to his benevolence of heart. `Come, my friends
let two of us go out and dig his grave and pay him the last office
of friendship and love! Two will go for a coffin, where you will
find them in the deserted coffin-maker's shop.'

In half an hour the grave was dug, and the body placed in the
coffin by these brave young men. They raised it upon their shoulders
and bore it forth from the dwelling. It was now night, and
the stars, and the faint lingering glow of the western horizon, only
gave them light. Shadows and darkness and silence were around
them. The river flowed by a mournful black flood, rippling and
murmuring a requiem! They stopped by its banks, and in silence
placed the coffin in a third grave, dug where they had seen him
kneel by the side of that of the strangers! Eustace then read the
service for the dead, and they returned slowly to the house.

`Now, my friends, we have another duty to perform. I received
the orders from my father as I parted with him, as the decision of
of the town council.'

He then entered the infected dwelling and returned with a lighted
torch.

At the sight of this, a deep murmur of voices reached their ears
from the hill side, where in the darkness of night, were still
assembled the congregated people. The murmuring soon rose to
a shout that awoke the echoes of the river banks, and filled all the
air, like the sweeping by of a tempest. The motion of the torch
was watched with intense interest, and they saw it multiply into
four! Every eye was bent upon the movements of each torch-bearer,
and in a few seconds four jets of flames were seen simultaneously
to shoot upward from the four corners of the House of the Plague!
Again a shout filled the valley, and then all was silent. Rapidly
the flames curled up the sides, and darted along the eves like four
serpents of fire, and entwining on the roof, rose high in the still
air, crackling and flashing, and casting far and wide over river and
field, village and height, a baleful glare. In strange awe the multitude
watched the progress of the consuming fire. No word was
spoken! no sound but that of deep suppressed breathing, and the
lashing roar of the flames, was heard till the smouldering ruins fell
suddenly in together in a mass, and a dark cloud ignited by a mile
lion of flying sparks, poured from the fierce crater, in the place of
the late brilliant flame, and falling low around it hung over the
spot like a pall!

Minutes passed, and yet no voice had broken the strange silence
that reigned. They remained gazing upon the scenes of ruin with
a sort of fascination. At length the venerable rector spoke. His
clear voice, though low in its tones, sounded like a trumpet to their
ears, so profoundly were their hearts buried in the silence.

`Now hath the plague been stayed, and the town purified by
fire. The four young men, whom Heaven defend! will remain on
the island in the river, until all fear of contagion is passed. Provisions
must be sent down to them, by the current! Return now,
my friends, to your homes, and let each man hasten to purify himself
from the plague of sin, and humble himself before God, lest the
fires of his vengeance consume him, as we have this night consumed
the House of the Plague.'

`But the child!' said the landlord of the inn, doubtingly.

`There is no proof that it has taken the plague. If God has
spared it a day and night, and taken the others, he will perhaps
yet spare it—I will first return into the village, and will see this
orphan, and know if it be well, and free from the plague.

`But the black,' said the quavering voice of Deacon Ring.

`He also cannot have the disease, or he would have died with it.
Let us not fear, but have courage—Heaven may be satisfied with
what has been sacrificed, and spare us. But let proper precaution
be taken. Remain you here, while I go into the village.'

To this step there was a strong and determined objection, raised
by every voice, when mine host of the `Gen. Warren' taking courage
in his heart, said he would himself go and look after his own
house. With this determination, he hastened on in advance of
the rector, and the crowd of following towns-people, and was soon
out of sight, in the darkness of the shadow of the trees. On reaching
the street in front of his inn, he felt his heart fail him; for
Ben Power loved life, and good cheer, and would have been satisfied
to live and keep the General Warren for the accommodation
of the next seven generations. He did not like coffins, graves, and
such dull matters, and was never known to speak of them without
washing down the words with a stiff brandy sling or some other
stout potation. But though he loved life he did not let his fears
of dying destroy the native goodness of his temper, and the kindly
feeling of his nature. He had risked life to save the lives of
persons endangered by a boat upsetting, or a carriage run-away
with, and he felt that he could now do so again! But there was, it
must be confessed a reluctance felt by our host, to be taken off by
the cholera. The very idea of this pestilence, conveyed a thousand
horrid deaths to every mind! The idea of death in other
forms, seemed endurable to people, compaired with this; and happy
were they esteemed who died quietly of an honest fever, before
the cholera seized upon them. Captain Ben, (for whoever knew
an innkeeper without a military title?) was especially of this way
of thinking. But the little girl's lonely situation, had taken hold
of his better nature, and her pitiful orphan-hood silently appealed
to his benevolence.

A light in his back sitting-room, now drew his attention, and
strengthening his resolution by calling in the aid of humanity, he
boldly walked across the street to his house, and stood on the
threshold.

`Ho, blackee! what's the news, hey?' he called without entering;
for Ben could not quite overcome his fears; as was also
evident by his diligently cramming his nostrils with snuff, and renewing
his quid of pigstail.

`Ah, bress your soul, massa, am you dar!' answered the negro
coming out of the back room with a light; `I'se tink I corporation
an' mayor, and poppilation ob dis 'spectable town! Dont you

[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]

knows I, Mass' Power, when I drive gemman's out to your house
so of en?'

`Yes, yes, I know you now, Pomp; but d—n you, keep your
distance;' he said in some trepidation, and retreating a step, `keep
off! But you dont look pale—you an't got it yet, have you?'

`Yah, yah! dey looks brack dem Cholera fokes do, mass' Ben,
not pale, when it gripe hold on em.'

`But I did not know but a nigger might grow pale, you know
Pomp,' answered Captain Ben with a smile. But how is the
child?'

`She sleeps now, boss,' peeping over his shoulder in at the door,
to see if the fact sustained his assertion.

`Is she sick? Has she got it? We saw you carry her in.'

`No—she on'y tired and ask to sleep den! Poor chil'! she too
pretty to hab de black Cholera! She no catch um, mass' Ben!
children `scape most always Its de big sinners dat cotch 'em?'

`Then you must be very innocent, Pomp, to escape as you have
so far.'

`I vas scared last night when I found I had de case ob cholery
in de coach, and I cut stick as if de debble vos arter me with a
pitch fork! But when I gets in the bushes and finds myself safe—
I reflects on my inmost life, boss, and how niggers never yet cotch
em from white folks, on'y from anodder nigger! So I says an amen
prayer, and a bit ob catechis' and comes back to look arter my
horses. I soon finds em, and unharness em, and let em eat
grass; and then I comes here in your stable, boss, and takes a nap.
When I wakes up, it was afternoon; nebber nigger 'fore sleep so!
and den em little girl comes along, and I takes pity on her, and she
tell me how her fader and moder die, and a young gemman cotch
it and die, and den she cry herself to sleep.'

`You are sure she has'nt got it, then, Pomp?'

`Sartain sure, boss; no more got him den me! If I'm cotched,
I'se not inform'd ob it by any pursymshuns,' replied the black
with a learned look, and an emphasis, upon the last word, which
rightly interpreted probably stood for `symptoms.'

`I will then go in and see her,' said captain Ben with confidence;
and following the black, he entered the room.

The child lay upon the outside of a low bed, with its cheek in
its hand, and its pale tear-full face shadowed with bright curls.
He gazed upon her a moment or two, as she slept in her innocence
and beauty, and then said emphatically.

`We are all brutes to fear evil from this angel, and to fly from
her as we have done, like sheep before a wolf. You shall find a
friend in me, pretty one. I will be a father to you.'

At this instant the child as if disturbed by his word, partly lifted
the lids of her eye, and whispered `dear father.'

The words went to the bottom of the large, generous heart of
mine host, and brushing a tear from his cheek, he bent softly over
the child and kissed its fair white brow. He then went to the
door and seeing a man who had ventured to approach as near as
the other side of the street, he told him all was safe, that the child
and black had both miraculously escaped infection. This intelligence
was immediately communicated by the man to the people
who were cautiously advancing from the hill side, and was received
with a loud shout of rejoicing. In a few minutes a rushing sound
and the tramp of hundreds of feet were heard entering the village;
and soon the populace, so many hours exiled from their homes,
began to re occupy them. Lights one after another rapidly appeared
in the darkened windows, and a strange, busy sound of
voices was every where heard. Those who occupied dwellings
near the Inn, were last to occupy them, and then only with anxiety.
The Inn itself was left deserted, not a footstep crossing its longworn
threshold, or lingering near it, save that of the ostler who
ventured to enter his stable. The family of mine host, his servants
and guests, contented themselves with quartering upon their
neighbors, till there was positive certainty, that no danger could
result from the presence of the negro, and the stranger child.

`Let them take care of themselves, if they choose, Pomp,' said
the Captain; `you and I have done our duty. If we are to suffer
by it, we suffer and God have mercy on us! But I do not fear.—
Come, good friend, take a stiff horn of this old brandy; it will do
you good, and keep out the plague. I always find it a remedy for
all aches? Here's your health, Pomp, and that of the poor child
in the room there,'

`Tank 'ee, boss; furs' for myself and secon' place for de chil','
said the black, bowing and making a scrape with his left leg, `you
see, boss, I takes a likin' to this chil,' seein' as how its kind o' under
my pertectum. Coz you see, I had de fader and moder and it
for my fare down, and dey was all three under my purticklar purtectum.
Now mass' Cholery hab cotch dem and kill 'em, it stan's
to reason, boss, dat de chil' vot vas leffum darein in dese circumstans,
am under my care. So I'se very much oblige to you, mass'
Power for drinking um healt.'

`What is the child's name? and where did you take up the parents?
and where were you going? and —'

`Jiss luffum dere, mass' Ben!' cried Pompey emphatically;' how
debble nigger answer 'secutively all dem 'terogatorums! one 'qui
rum at de time, boss, and den nigger reply wid compressiveness
to your understandum. In de fuss place you 'terrogaate me vid
dis 'quirum; what am de chil's name?'

`Yes, Pompey,' said mine host adding a little more water to the
sugar in the bottom of his glass.

`Well, dat am a piece of information I hab to guess at,' answered
Pompey gravely, at the same time, after mine host's example adding
a little water to the sugar in his own tumbler.

`How can you guess at a name, if you dont know it? `asked
Captain Ben taking the decanter and adding a little and then a
little more brandy to the water he had added to the sugar.

`Coz,' answered the black stretching forth his hand and taking
up the decanter mine host had set down again; `you see fuss
place, I'se good at guessin' nat'rally, and secon' place I hear em
call her `Fan,' which is persumptum evidence dat her name am
Fanny;' and Pompy added at least two fingers of Cogniac to the
water in his glass.

`That is very clear, Pompey, Fanny must be her name. Here's
to the pretty little Fanny!' drinking off his sling.

`Here am to de same, savin' your health, boss,' answered Pompey
pouring the contents of the tumbler down the capacious orifice
of his throat. `Bressed nice liquor you keep, Cap'n Ben, de
leavins ob de glass, vid a little water and a drop o' brandy am
jess as good as de fuss drink! now I'm ready for um secon' terragatorum!
'

“Is there no other name that you heard?'

“No. He call her wife, she call him husban' and Henry.'

`Did you never see them before?”

`No, boss. I vos you see all alone on my stan' rubbin down my
horses 'xpectin' fare—for de carriages am in great demand dese
cholery times, ebbery body scamperin' to the country, vhen dis
gemman, no, dat dead man, comes up to me and axes me if my
coach am tuck by any body. He den say dat he want me to go to
um ship at Indium wharf, and tuck him, a lady an chil' (de little
one in dar asleep!) and drive twenty miles into de country to de
first healthy village, where he could stay till de Cholery was over.
He said how he hab just come from England in de ship, and finding
de plague was in de city, he wanted to 'scape from it, vithout
stoppin a minute in town! He said he would pay me half a
guinea a league, and as much for myself back to the city. Says I
boss, fore pay am sure pay! So he put four gold guineas in my
hand.

`He must have been an Englishman,' said mine host,

Dat am dis nigger's 'pinion; coz I nebber hab fare dat pay me
in yellow boys, but dey am Englishum. So I takes him in and
drive down to de ship and takes 'em wid a trunk, he sayin' he
hab leff his odder baggage at de custom house.'

`Did the gentleman look sick?'

`No—only he seemed terrible 'fraid to stay in de city, for fifty
died de day afore, and coffins vas thicker in de streets dan coaches.
I drove out o'town across Craige's bridge and when he gets
into de country, and saw de green fields, and breathes de pure at
mospherrum, he vos cheerful as a bird and he axed me vot um
Colleges vos, and de churches and them likes; and I vos willing
to answer all his 'quirums wid pleasure, coz he vas civil and soft
spoken like a born gemman. Well I tuck the pike to this village,
boss, as I knew um road, and know'd how comfortable dey would
find demselves in your house, Capt'n Ben.'

`Your glass is empty, Pompey. Fill it again and let us drink
to their memory 'said mine host with a gratified look. `Poor
people!'

`Yes, mass Ben! I'se pity 'em. He took ill about five miles from
here, and when de lady discover it, she put her head out ob de
coach vinder and tell me to drive as fast as I could. I din't drive
fast enough for her, and he grew sicker; and so she guved me a
guinea, and told me not to spare um horses. So I put on um lash
and came on all flying, until yur timber wall brought me up all
standin'! Den I tuck to my heels sudden, didnt I, boss. But dont
mention um! I'se redeem my reputatium now: ki! but I beat de
whole poppulation, boss!'

`You run like a hare, Pomp, there is no mistake. And this is
all you know about them or the child?' asked mine host with a
look and voice of serious interest.

`Yes, boss, answered Pompey

`The child is truly an orphan and a stranger. There was a
trunk, you say. That may contain some evidence of her name
and parentage, and may guide us where to send her. Go for it,
Pompey, now. I will remain with the child. Ah! perhaps she
is old enough to give us information when she wakes.

Pompey soon returned from the lawn of the smouldering ruin,
bearing the trunk and some articles in his hand, a reticule and
book and mantle, reporting that he had searched the carriage for
any thing they might have had with them. These latter conveyed
no further intelligence to him. Whatever papers or jewels they
had about their persons was now beyond reach, as they had been
burried in their clothes! And who would dare dishume `The Dead
of the Plague!' The trunk was now opened with a key found in

[figure description] Page 006.[end figure description]

the reticule, and examined. It contained several changes of apparel
for a gentleman and lady, and abundant clothing for the child.
It was all rich though plain in its mode, and fully proved that the
deceased moved in genteel society. There was neither letter nor
paper, nor a card, to indicate the name. He bethought himself of
the linen, and examined it for a mark. His was marked with the
initials H. L. The lady's handkerchiefs with F. L.; the little
girl's dresses with the name, done in a beautiful stitch, of `Fanny.'
The lock of the trunk was then examined, and on a plate was
found engraved `H. H., England,' which the honest Ben Power
took to be the initials of the lady's maiden name.

Beyond this all was involved in mystery. Once more mine host
went over the examination of the trunk and every thing in it, but
no further light was thrown upon the subject of their investigation.

`I see how it is, Pompey,' he said, after carefully replacing all
the articles in the trunk and relocking it. `Providence has placed
this child under my charge, and I shall accept it till I can find out
her friends; for she must have relations somewhere, either in this
country or in England. She comes to me without money, though
doubtless they had money; but death and flame, and the grave
have forever sealed all secrets connected with the House of the
Plague! Doubtless what was not buried with them is consumed. I
am poor, but I can bring her up. But I shall go in to Boston when
the cholera disappears and find out the ship that brought them
over. Do you remember her name?'

`No, boss, I'se nebber go on um back end to see, coz you knows
I hab no anticipatium ob sich a catastrophum as dis.'

`I shall make every inquiry, Pomp; and in the end, if all intelligence
fail me, I shall give her my name, unless she can tell me
her own, which it is likely she can. Listen! did you not hear her
call?'

`Dat am her, sure 'nuff, boss,' said Pompey, following the captain
from the bar into the little chamber. The child was sitting
up in bed, and looking with fear and surprise around her.

`Poor child!' said Ben to himself. `Do you want any thing, my
sweet bird,' he asked as tenderly in voice and epithet as he could,
fearing to terrify her.

`My mother! my father! Where are they?'

`Don't think ob dem jiss at dis time, young missus,' said Pompey
kindly; `dey is quite 'appy, if you doesn't see em! Don't
you know me, wot am de nigger dat druv de car'age?'

`Oh yes,' said the child eagerly; and smiling she put forth her
arms towards him.

`That is no English child to take to a darkey so,' said captain
Ben, as she clung to Pompey's neck; `if she don't turn out to be
Southern born I'm mistaken. An English child, Pomp, would
have been frightened at such a blackamoor, while your southern
children take to them as kindly as they do to their own mothers,
and more so, for that matter.'

`She may be English, boss, and be born in de West Indy, where
dey say niggers am plenty as blackberries. Dem is my sentimentums.
What am yourn, little beauty?'

`Take me to my father!—oh! I have no father—I have no mother.
I saw them dead—I saw them buried in the deep, red ground,
and hid from my sight. I saw my friend die, and then I fled
away from the dreadful house. My poor mother!—my dear, dear
father!'

`Don't take on so, pretty child,' said mine host in a husky voice,
and soothing her by putting back her rich brown ringlets with his
hard hand; `come to me. I will be a father to you: you shall be
my child.'

The little girl stopped the expressions of her touching grief,
and looking at him steadily in the face with an inquiring gaze, after
a moment's observation, turned from him again and patted
Pompey on his cheek.

`No, no, you are not my pa: this is my black pa, now I have no
white pa. He was kind to me, and I love him.'

`But I will be kind to you, Fanny,' said captain Ben tenderly.

She started, as if pleased at the sound of her name, and smiled,
and then said:

`You too shall be my pa; I will have two pas, a black pa to wait
on me, and a white pa to love.

`None but a Southern child would have said that, Pompey.—
What is your name besides Fanny?'

`Fanny Buck.'

`That is a nick-name.'

`No, sir, father calls me Fanny Buck; but mother calls me Fanny
Lark.'

`Ah, I knew it to be a pet name.'

`Oh, my poor pa! dear mother—dear father! Is it possible
that I am without parents?' she said with sudden and touching pathos.

`No, I will be your father, and my wife will be a mother to
you.'

`Is she kind and good as my mother was, sir?'

`I can't say she is all that, dear; but she shall treat you kindly,
or I will turn her out of the house.'

`Dere am two sides to a questionum, boss, and de lady sometime
hab both; yah, yah, yah!'

`I see you know something of Mrs. Powers, Pomp, you rascal;
but I shall rule this time.'

`Dat's right, boss. I'se never guv up to de wimmins, 'special'
when dey persume to inwade my independum rights and sacriligious
privileges. I'se sure rule in my own house whenebber a
bressed Providence please to put one ober my head; and if I hab
de misfortunum to hab de additionum bressin' ob a wife, I make
her mind or I break her neck, if she am lubly as um new polished
boot, and hab eyes like brackberries stuck in de white ob a boiled
egg. Dem's my sentimens pertickerly, boss. Dey say your
old woman hab a little bit ob de tartar 'metic in her compositium,
mass Ben.'

`The least said about that the better, Pomp,' said mine host;
`come to me, dear child. You are to live with me till I can send
you to your friends. You have friends?' he said enquiringly, as
the child, after looking at him and closely studying a second time
his countenance, left the arms of Pompey for his; `where do they
live?'

`They are dead, sir! I have no friends but my father and mother;
and you know they are buried under the fresh, red earth,
with green sods upon their bosoms, where I used to lie and love
them. But I cannot lie there again, unless I lie upon the sods
that separated me from them; but I can love them, for they are
in Heaven. What is death, sir?' and she suddenly fixed her large
blue eyes upon his. `I try to think what it is, but I cannot tell
what it is, save that it is something dreadful that separates my
parents from me.'

`Nay, let us not speak of that now. You must try and sleep
again,' said mine host; `in the morning we will talk all this over.
Pompey shall sit and watch by you, and you shall have children
for company when you wake again.'

He then placed her upon the pillow, and she was soon asleep
again. Leaving the faithful black by her side he then went out to
seek his family, and communicate the events of the night. His
presence at the houses he visited caused not a little panic, but as
he declared the entire absence of disease both from the child and
the negro, he was suffered to enter, though none took him by the
hand or came in contact with him. He told his wife of his intentions
respecting the child, describing her beauty and affectionate
nature.

`We have children enough of our own,' answered Mrs. Power,
a handsome but bold-looking, managing woman; `if the child had
money it would be different. She shall not be put upon me without
I am paid for it. Let her go to the poor house! There's Deacon
Ring; he has no children, and he is a selectman; let him take
her and bring her up. I mean to have nothing to do with it.'

Such was the reception captain Ben's benevolent intentions met
with; but he wisely forebore to insist upon his plan in a neighbor's
house, having made up his mind to rule his own when his
wife returned to it; which she resolved she would not do as long
as the `cholera child' remained in it. Captain Ben then took his
way home alone, whistling `Bonnie Doon' in an under tone, and
deliberately making up his mind for a scene with his better half; in
which, however, he as deliberately resolved to come off victor.—
The streets were now quiet, though lights burned in every house;
for, although it was now past midnight, few felt like going to bed.

In the meanwhile, Pompey had kept his station by the side of
the sleeping child. It turned in its sleep, and was restless and
talking much. While he was watching her and smoothing her pillow,
he saw the glitter of gold in the child's bosom. He waited
for a moment when she was perfectly quiet, and then softly drew it
forth. It was a very small yet singularly beautiful vinaigrette of
fine gold, with a large topaz set in the lid, with a cypher engraved
upon it. The perforated holes to emit the pungent effluvia, and
the singular yet not unpleasant smell of it, not a little puzzled Pompey,
who had never before seen a vinaigrette. After examining it
with curiosity, and perplexing his brain with guesses at its use, he
came to the sagacious conclusion that it was a charm against the
cholera, and that this alone had kept her from taking it.

Pompey was not covetous; he was not dishonest; he had no
`propensitum,' as he would have phrased it, to thieving; but Pompey
did love life; he did fear the cholera. There was a moment
of hesitation—the temptation was great. Life and death seemed
at either elbow! the cholera was staring him in the face. He darted
a hurried look around to see if `the captain' was near, then another
at the sleeping child, and the jewel disappeared in some unknown
receptacle in his garments.

`Whew-w-w!' he breathed long and freely; `if dis nigger don't
feel like a d—n tief, den dere am no conscienceum in a nigger's
carcus. I hab um safe, dat sure, and feel debble like I stole um!
But stealin hab two side to him! Dere be dat side when dey steal
coz um love to steal—dat an't dis nigger! dere be, secondlum, dem
as steal coz what dey take benefit dem more dan dem dey steal
from: dat come pretty near dis perticklar case! Den dar am a
third side, and dat am when de cholery come, and nigger bound to

[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]

take ebbery percaution to sabe um life, take a little trinket from
little gal, to keep little while till cholery done killin' fokes, and
den gib it safe back to um again. Dem's 'zackly dis `spectable
brack man's case what am here in dis char.'

Pompey's further cogitations were interrupted by the entrance
of captain Ben; and the two sat together with a brandy bottle between
them, until the dawn broke and the sound of stirring feet
was heard in the village streets.