One Evening, when it was getting too dusk to work or read, and I was falling into a Muse, a tall Shadow darkened the Door, which happened to be ajar, and the next Moment a Man whom I did not immediately recognise, entered the Parlour and stepped up to me.
“Cherry! dear Cherry!” he said in a stifled Voice, and took me in his Arms with a Brother’s Affection. It was poor Mark.
“Dear Mark!” I said, “where have you been? Oh, how often have I thought of you!”
“Aye, Cherry, well you might, and pray for me, too,” said he, somewhat wildly. “Oh, what a Tale I have to tell you!—You will either hate or despise me.”
“You are ill, very ill,” said I, looking fearfully at his haggard Face; “let me give you Something before you say another Word.”
“Wine, then,” said he; and drank with avidity the Glass I poured out, and then filled it again himself. “Thanks, dear Cherry!—will my Uncle be coming in?”
I looked at him and at my Dress, and could not speak; but there was no need—“Ah!”—said he; and wrung my Hand, and then dropped it.
“Cherry,” said he, after a Moment’s Pause, “you know how afraid I was of the Plague, and how my Wife taunted me for it, and for taking the commonest Precautions. She herself braved it, defied it; secure in her Amulet and Fortune-telling. What was worse, she cruelly exposed her Servants to it, for the merest Trifles. We had Words about it often: bitter Words, at last—She accused me, utterly without Foundation, of caring more for the Servant-girl than for her, reviled me for tempting my own Fate by Fear; finally, said I should be no great Loss, for I had never cared much for her, nor she for me. All this embittered me against her. Well, the poor Maid caught the Plague at the Butchers’ Stalls, and, the next Night, was in the Dead-cart. The following Day, our youngest ’Prentice died. The other decamped in the Night. I now became nearly Mad with Fear and Anger; and, finding my Wife would not stir, or at least, as she said, ‘not yet,’ I considered that Self-preservation was the first Law of Nature; and, taking a good Supply of Money with me, I left the House in the Night. Fear of being driven back was my sole Feeling till I got clear out of London; then, I began to have an Impression I had done wrong. But ’twas Death, ’twas Madness to think of turning back. On I went....
“It had been my Impression, Cherry, that, with plenty of Money in my Pocket, I could make my Way wherever I would; but now, in whatever Direction I went, I came upon a Watchman, who, because I had no Clean Bill of Health to show, would not let me pass. At length, after running hither and thither, throughout the Night, I came upon a couple of Men, with a small Cart and Horse. They seemed to be in the same Strait as myself, and talked of fetching a Compass to Bow. I asked them to let me join them, and they consented. They were a rough Sort of Fellows; one it seemed had deserted his Mother, the other his Wife. Their Conduct, and their brutal Way of talking of it, only made mine seem more ugly.