"Have there been many deaths here of the distemper ?" "Twenty-five to-day!" groaned the man.

"Lord! what will become of us ?" "You seem rather disheartened," said Sir Norman, pouring out a glass of wine and handing it to him.

"Just drink this, and don't borrow trouble.
They say sack is a sure specific against the plague." Mine host drained the bumper, and wiped his mouth, with another hollow groan.
"If I thought that, sir, I'd not be sober from one week's end to t'other; but I know well enough I will be in a plague-pit in less than a week.

O Lord! have mercy on us!" "Amen!" said Sir Norman, impatiently.

"If fear has not taken away your wits, my good sir, will you tell me what old ruin that is I saw a little above here as I rode up ?" The man started from his trance of terror, and glanced, first at the fiery eyes in the corner, and then at Sir Norman, in evident trepidation of the question.
"That ruin, sir?
You must be a stranger in this place, surely, or you would not need to ask that question." "Well, suppose I am a stranger?
What then ?" "Nothing, sir; only I thought everybody knew everything about that ruin." "But I do not, you see?
So fill your glass again, and while you are drinking it, just tell me what that everything comprises." Again the landlord glanced fearfully at the fiery eyes in the corner, and again hesitated.
"Well!" exclaimed Sir Norman, at once surprised and impatient at his taciturnity, "Can't you speak man?
I want you to tell me all about it." "There is nothing to tell, sir," replied the host, goaded to desperation.