Satisfied that she was in a healthful situation, and that her chance of preservation from the pestilence was better than that of any other member of his family, he turned his thoughts entirely to them.
Redoubling his precautions, he tried by every means to keep up the failing spirits of his household, and but rarely ventured to open his shutter, and look forth on the external world.
On the tenth of September, which was afterwards accounted the most fatal day of this fatal month, a young man of a very dejected appearance, and wearing the traces of severe suffering in his countenance, entered the west end of London, and took his way slowly towards the city.

He had passed Saint Giles's without seeing a single living creature, or the sign of one in any of the houses.

The broad thoroughfare was completely grown over with grass, and the habitations had the most melancholy and deserted air imaginable.

Some doors and windows were wide open, discovering rooms with goods and furniture scattered about, having been left in this state by their inmates; but most part of them were closely fastened up.
As he proceeded along Holborn, the ravages of the scourge were yet more apparent.

Every house, on either side of the way, had a red cross, with the fatal inscription above it, upon the door.