THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER

 CHARLES S BENTLEY AND F KIMBALL SCRIBNER

 The Fifth of November _A Romance of the Stuarts_

 By Charles S. Bentley and F. Kimball Scribner

 "No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turn'd when he rose" --Thomas Moore. 

 Chicago and New York: Rand, McNally & Company, Publishers. 

 Copyright, 1898, by Rand, McNally & Co. 

 CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER. PAGE. I. WHAT BEFELL AT THE SIGN OF THE LEOPARD. 1 II. IN THE SHADOW OF ST. PAUL. 11 III. THE HOME-COMING OF GUIDO FAWKES. 21 IV. THE SUPERIOR OF THE JESUITS. 33 V. WHY MASTER FAWKES WAS SUMMONED TO ENGLAND. 42 VI. "THE WISEST FOOL IN CHRISTENDOM. " 52 VII. THE VISCOUNT EFFINGSTON. 61 VIII. IN THE GARDEN OF THE GENTLEMAN-PENSIONER. 73 IX. GARNET AND THE KING. 81 X. THE FORGING OF THE THUNDERBOLT. 89 XI. THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 97 XII. WHAT THE MOON SAW. 108 XIII. AT THE SIGN OF THE LEOPARD. 119 XIV. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 130 XV. "THOU SHALT NOT KILL. " 140 XVI. MONTEAGLE AND SALISBURY. 152 XVII. SOWING THE WIND. 158 XVIII. THE CELLAR. 167 XIX. THE NOTE OF WARNING. 178 XX. ON THE STROKE OF ELEVEN. 184 XXI. THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER. 192 XXII. FAWKES BEFORE THE KING. 200 XXIII. THE BANQUET. 207 XXIV. "IN THE KING'S NAME. " 213 XXV. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND. 222

AUTHOR'S NOTE. 

It has not been the intention of the authors of "The Fifth ofNovember" to write an historical novel, though, throughout the story, they have endeavored to follow as closely as was consistent with theplot in hand, the historical facts collected by the various writerswho have made the nature and workings of the "Gunpowder Plot" aspecial study. With one or two exceptions, the characters in thepresent romance have been borrowed from history, and, save in ChaptersXXI and XXII, the lines of the story have followed those traced by thehand of the historian. 

In presenting to the public this "Romance of the Stuarts, "indebtedness is acknowledged by the writers to Professor S. R. Gardiner's "What the Gunpowder Plot Was, " and also to the historyof England as set forth by Knight, Hume, Froude and Ridpath. 

 THE AUTHORS. New York, February, 1898. 

THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER. 

CHAPTER I. 

WHAT BEFELL AT "THE SIGN OF THE LEOPARD. "

Snow had fallen through the day, and as night approached all objectswere covered with a mantle of white. The noises incident to the lifeof a great city had long since become muffled and indistinct. Thefootfalls of those who traversed the streets could no longer be heard;and the only sounds which now and again broke the silence, were thevoices of my lord's link-men, who, in goodly number, fully armed, carrying flaming torches whose lurid dancing light shone through theblinding snow, appeared at a distance to be a party of ancient saintscome forth from their tombs to indulge in a ghostly frolic under coverof the night. The voices of the men, falling upon the snow-laden air, sounded dull and echo-less as they heralded the approach of a chair tosome sharp turn or gateway. An armed escort in those days was no markof royalty or distinction, for it was not well or safe for men totravel the streets alone after nightfall, as many a sinister face andcloaked form lurked hid in the shadow of secluded corners and darkby-ways, awaiting opportunity to cut the purse, or the throat, as needbe, of the solitary wayfarer. 

Numbers were no guarantee of escaping unmolested; for of late therogues had become so bold that it was a common thing for a party ofgentlemen to be attacked successfully, as the ruffians mustered intheir ranks many soldiers of fortune who had served in Flanders, France and Spain, and were well versed in the play of both sword anddagger. These acts of robbery and murder were confined to no onelocality, but the vagabonds who perpetrated the deeds had haunts andplaces of common rendezvous, and as night fell, these dens pouredforth upon the town their murder-bent crews. 

In one of the most narrow and crooked of streets, often lost amid thewinding of greater thoroughfares, and safely hidden from the watchfuleyes of the King's soldiers, was situated a tavern, patronized for themost part by those who replenished their purses when low, by runningsome belated traveler through the back, and taking what money he had. This tavern was famous among its patrons for its mulled ale, the likeof which, they swore could not be found in all London. To those whohad not partaken of this famous beverage, and knew not the inn byreputation, its business was made known by a swinging sign, uponwhich, very indifferently executed, was the figure of a leopard, and, further, as if the artist had not sufficient confidence in his powersof portrayal, he had printed in large and uncertain letters, "At thesign of the Leopard may be found all manner of goodly cheer andcomfort. " Below this evidence of what might be found within, a smalland narrow doorway gave entrance to the hostelry. Inside, a largerroom than the outer aspect of the place indicated, awaited the guest. A low ceiling, blackened by age, and hung with numberless spider webs, whose weavers had long since fled--driven thence by the clouds oftobacco smoke puffed from the lips of many a sturdy knave who nightlyhelped to fill the place. The walls of the room being paneled in somedark wood to an unusual height, the three windows, which furnishedmore air than light, were well up toward the ceiling. The sides ofthis chamber were decorated with rows of pewter pots and flagons ofvarious shapes and sizes. The furniture consisted of half a dozenrough tables and high-backed benches ranged about the sides. The floorwas freshly sanded, but rough in many places from the prominence ofknots, the softer wood being worn from around them by the shuffling ofnumberless pairs of boots. An uncertain light proceeded from severallarge candles standing in brass candlesticks, but most of theillumination was due to a fire which burned briskly in a large stonefireplace at the extreme end of the room, and gave to all an aspect ofwarmth and good cheer. 

Standing in front of the blaze was the host of the establishment, attired in the costume of his time, --a loose jacket, linen breechesand green apron. He was eyeing with a look of no small displeasurethree men seated at one of the tables, two of whom, by their actions, seemed to have partaken a little too freely of the Leopard's specialbeverage. They wore the dress of a class, which, by their manner, wasone of no great elevation. Long, soft, wide-brimmed hats adorned theirheads, while tight-fitting jerkins of very much soiled leather coveredtheir bodies. Trunks and tights of some faded material, and boots withdeep falling tops, completed their costume, unless there should beadded the two long bellguard rapiers lying upon the table, and towhich, from appearances, the gentlemen in question owed theirlivelihood. The man seated opposite was thick-set and slightly undermedium height; instead of the leather jerkin worn by them, his bodywas incased in a steel cuirass or breastplate, which, judging fromthe numerous dents thereon, had turned the force of many a savagethrust and blow. The face of the man was one which had long beenexposed to both sun and storm, and even pestilence had not spared it, for in many places the disfiguring finger of smallpox had left itsmark. His beard was worn in the style favored by the soldiers of theSpanish, rather than the English army, for it was pointed andsurmounted by a long, black and up-curling moustache, which addedfierceness to an already not too kindly countenance. His sword, a longpoint and blade rapier of Italian pattern, still hung by his side, asif even when surrounded by this good cheer, he, from habit born ofmany a hard campaign, still clung to it. 

"What, ho, John Tapster;" exclaimed he of the steel cuirass, banginglustily on the table with the pummel of his sword, "another six-hoopedpot of thy best mulled ale, for the sour and remorseful wine of Spainwhich I have drunk, ill befits my stomach. "

The landlord advanced reluctantly to comply, with an air which plainlyshowed he was divided in his mind between the doubt of a settlement toan already long unpaid score, and the fear of personal violence did herefuse the man his request. The love of a whole skin, however, triumphed, for after filling the pot with ale and plunging the mullingiron into it, which he had drawn from the fire, he set the desireddrink before his guest. 

"By Sir Bacchus!" said the stranger, after taking a deep draught, "'tis the only fitting liquid to put into one's body, if he wishes tostrike a stout blow for the King. " Then, as he finished the pot, "Itseemeth well to drown the clinging dust of Spain within one's throat, in merry English ale. "

The landlord did not venture to reply to these offers of conversation;he seemed loath to enter into friendly talk, when in all probabilityhe soon would be embroiled with the man in a dispute, if not in anissue of more serious nature. However, the other, nothing daunted, andgazing on his two companions, whom he discovered wrapped in drunkenslumber, snoring roundly, prodded them both with the scabbard of hissword, which action eliciting from them nothing but a grunt, and beingdesirous of further conversation, he again turned to him of the greenapron who had resumed his watchful scrutiny from before the fire, andcontinued:

"Thou seemest but sparing of thy speech, Sir Host. Judge a man notalways by the company he keeps; these drunken knaves whose silly pateswould have been turned with milk of the morning's drawing, are nocomrades of mine; 'tis only a mere chance friendship. I was not overparticular in my pick of friends, being lately landed, and but tooglad to take up with the first varlets speaking my own sweet English;after many months of naught but jabbering Spanish sounding in my ears'twas well and pleasing to hear once more the brave tongue in which myfirst aves were taught unto me. "

"Aves have not, I trow, over-troubled thee, " answered the landlord innot too jovial a tone. 

"Nay, nay, friend; be not quick to judge by weight of purse or hilt ofsword, for a man with not over much money in his gipsire may stillhave that about him which would recommend him more. "

"And what, pray, might that be?" inquired the other;--"a handsome faceand ready tongue? They are goodly coin to win the heart of some fairmaid, but naught of cakes and ale they'll buy thee when thy belly'sempty. "

"Nay, I will offer neither, for I have none of them. The first was butrudely handled some thirty years ago by plague, at Havre; the second'shad but small practice, and its tone was spoiled by breathing the dampwinds of the Flemish marshes. I leave such graces to the stay-at-homeswho twist a tap--but, a truce to this witty talk, for it makes but illfriends, and I would ask of thee a favor, which will cost naught butcivility, that is cheap and in the end may gain thee much. " So saying, he put his hand into a small bag which hung at his side, drawingtherefrom a very much soiled and crumpled paper, and advancing with ittoward the host, continued: "I am but illy versed in such priestlycraft; the meaning I can understand, but its full intent may havemissed my stupid eyes. Canst thou decipher it for me, Sir Host?"

This direct appeal to his learning softened to some extent him of thespigot, whose curiosity as well as pride was aroused, for the manaddressing him, judging from his speech, was a little above the usualclass who frequented the tavern. Reaching for a candle which stoodupon the mantel, that he might better see, and taking the letter withgrudging fingers, said in a slightly more gracious tone after amoment's scrutiny, "It ill pleases me, that monkish writing, but printsuch as honest John Caxton did manufacture, I can decipher rightreadily. " Then with knitted brow, during which the other man remainedstanding, looking over his shoulder in an expectant attitude, hecontinued: "For truth, I could at first but illy make it out; I haveit now. " Then read from the paper:

 "'To Guido Fawkes: In the Army of His Majesty, Philip of Spain: I doubt not that thou rememberest my promise, made some time since, which I have now the pleasurable opportunity to fulfill. Much it pleaseth me to offer thee a place, the duties of which will keep thee near thy daughter, and, moreover, the reward of such being not below the merit of him who, by my knowledge, most honestly gained it, and is well worthy. If it suit thee to accept the charge I have to offer, the naming of which I shall defer until we meet, detach thyself from thy present occupation, repair to London with all likely haste, and seek me at my house when soon arrived. "'(Signed) SIR THOMAS WINTER. '"

"Beshrew my heart, but thou art a ripe scholar, landlord, and much Imarvel to see one with such goodly learning wasting time on knaveslike these, " cried the man, pointing to his companions at the table;"and pray, " he continued, "since myself hath been introduced in name, I would know thine also, so I might thank thee the heartier. "

"Giles Martin, for want of better, " replied the host, "and dost thouknow this Sir Thomas Winter?" he inquired after a moment, stilllooking at the note in his hand. 

"Aye, and for a right brave gentleman, who hath done me nobleservice. "

"For one done unto himself, I take it, from the purport of theletter?"

"A small service, not worth the mentioning, " replied Fawkes. "Once inSpain, a gentleman--the self-same Sir Thomas, was sorely set upon by asurly ruffian, who, in exchange for his purse, would have given himParadise. " Then with a deprecating wave of the hand, which he droppedon the hilt of his rapier, "'twas but a weakly blow I turned, andspitted the varlet with my good sword here. Zounds, " he continued witha voice full of enthusiasm, "for this petty act he did conduct my poormotherless lass out of a country where, to the men, a pretty face isas flint to powder, and brought her safe to London and her grandam. "

"You saved his life; 'twas a worthy object and a worthy deed, "exclaimed Martin heartily, who had been watching the speaker narrowlyduring his narration. 

"Tut, tut; 'twas nothing; but I take it thou hast acquaintance withhim, " said Fawkes, turning toward the other, with a manner whichdenoted surprise at the landlord's outburst of appreciation, "and maydirect me unto his residence, for after many years' absence I amlately come, and illy versed in London's streets which are as crookedas a blade that hath lain long in the fire. "

"In truth, I do know where he lives, " said Martin (then continued in alower tone as if speaking to himself) "and further, that he's in nonetoo good favor with the King. But as to his address: if thou wilt takethe dome on St. Paul's as thy guide, which thou canst most readilysee, proceed thither, and when reached, continue down the streetrunning toward the left, a few more steps will bring thee to a housesurrounded by an iron railing; it is the one thou seekest. " Hehesitated a moment, then continued as if good judgment had beenovercome by enthusiasm--"and when thou dost behold Sir Thomas, makemention that Giles Martin (say naught of my present calling, for heknows me not by that) sends his duty, and would again at his elbow cryin the self-same voice, 'An Essex, An Essex!' Perchance, " Martinadded, suddenly breaking off, fearing he had been incautious before astranger in connecting his name with an incident which had brought butlittle honor with it, "that is why I am now doing this, " taking asoiled tankard from the table and wiping it on his apron. 

"Gladly will I be the bearer of thy message, but as thou hast said, why does Sir Winter stand in ill repute?"

"It may be, " answered Martin, turning his gaze upon the two men at thetable, then setting down the tankard, "that he hath a quick temper anda ready tongue, swift steeds in our time to pull a man's head upon theblock, " and advancing toward the other concluded in a low voice fullof emotion, "mayhap memory doth hold up a mirror to his eye, in whichis reflected Mary's dripping head, chopped for her faith. "

"Verily, " cried Fawkes, in a loud tone characteristic of one notafraid of voicing opinions that lay near his heart, "would that goodKing James might look into the glass thou dost mention and see thepromises of his youth, for naught of promise or his mother's headmethinks----"

"Hist, " whispered Martin, breaking in and laying his hand upon thespeaker, "a truce to such treason talk; naught has it done but broughtme to an ill-famed pot-house, " he concluded in a thoughtful voice. 

"Well, well, none of thy story will I ask; but in Spain they do illytreat a heretic, " Fawkes continued, looking significantly at the fire, and pointing toward it with his outstretched arm; "a truce, as thousayest, for I must no longer tarry. Saint Paul's bell is on the strokeof ten, and I would see Sir Winter, and (in a softer voice) my lass, to-night; for honestly, I am more than anxious to see her pretty face;first I must bid yon knaves good-bye. " So saying he endeavored torouse the companions of his cups. Not being able however to bring themto any degree of consciousness, he discontinued his exertions, andturning toward the landlord, who had been watching his efforts, said, laughingly: "'tis but little harm they'll do in sleep, and I trowthey are none too good when in their seven senses, so I will leavethem thus; but take thou from this the reckoning of us all, for naughtof gold they have, I swear"--handing the other a purse, which, afterextracting a sovereign, Martin returned to its owner. 

"'Tis but a sorry night in which to travel, " remarked the host, pocketing the money and proceeding to rake the fire, while his guestwrapped about himself a long, thick cloak which had hung over the backof a bench. 

"Aye, 'tis cold, and steel draws unto itself the frost, " respondedFawkes, as he finished his preparations for departure. "And now, SirHost, " he continued, extending his hand, "farewell, but soon, when Iam once more to rights, it will do me pleasure to quaff a flagon inthy honest company, for such is a man who knoweth Sir Thomas Winter, and, " he continued, drawing closer to the other, "is no pratingProtestant in these times when he who would seek a favor or gain atitle must blow out the candles on his altar, and break its images. Start not at my words, for by thy very speech thou art no heretic, andI do love thee the better for it. But see, " he continued as he openedthe door, "the night is already mended, the snow hath ceased, the moonshows bright, and by my troth, there is my guide, " and he pointed tothe distant dome of St. Paul, on which a huge cross glistened in themoonlight. 

CHAPTER II. 

IN THE SHADOW OF ST. PAUL. 

In the heart of London, a musket shot distance from the great dome ofSt. Paul, stood a dwelling of no mean pretension occupied by oneThomas Percy, Gentleman-Pensioner, a man of goodly parts, bloodrelative of the Earl of Northumberland and well known as a Catholic, though, by reason of his office, there attached to him scant suspicionin the minds of the King's ministers that his faith overlapped hisloyalty. 

On the same night which witnessed the appearance of Guido Fawkes andhis drunken companions at the "Sign of the Leopard, " there weregathered together, in an upper chamber of Percy's dwelling, fourgentlemen. The house was an official structure given over as a meetingplace for certain of the King's commissioners, the room wherein theysat being well adapted for the discussion of such matters as it seemedinexpedient to let reach the ears of those whose business called themnot within the council chamber. 

A snow storm made the night exceeding chilly, so three of those whocame to partake of the hospitality of the Pensioner had providedthemselves with ample cloaks, which, closely wrapped about theirpersons, and covering the lower portions of their faces, precludedrecognition, were any, by chance, to accost the wearer on the King'shighway. Although few were abroad on account of the extreme cold, andthose few would not have marveled that a gentleman should be closelymuffled even as a secret assassin, or highwayman, or noticed that thethree went not together to the outer door of the house, still eachcame separately, knocking thrice upon the panel, whereupon Sir Percyhimself opened to him, that he might enter quickly. 

Being safe within, and the room warmed by great logs which sputteredin the open fireplace, the three laid aside their cloaks, and satuncovered in the presence of their host, who, the better to discoursewith each, occupied a place at the head of the long table about whichwere wont to sit the commissioners of the King. 

That the little gathering was not composed of churchmen, or learneddoctors of the day, might have been easily guessed by theiryouthfulness and dress. Scarce past five and thirty, with clear cutfeatures, well knit frames, dignity of carriage, apparel of the higherclass, and the court rapier then in vogue, hanging at the side ofeach, designated them as gentlemen. 

Having drained with nervous haste a goblet of wine which stood beforehim, he who was the Pensioner turned with a frowning brow to hiscompanions:

"Gentlemen!" said he, half rising from his seat, "shall we always talkand never do anything?"

This appeal uttered in an impatient voice moved each of his guests ina manner strikingly dissimilar. One on the right sitting with back tothe door, turned uneasily as though fearing that the portal stoodopen, and that, on the threshold, might appear a stranger, orperchance the King's officer. Another, clad in a suit of gray velvet, drummed nervously upon the table, while the third, who seemed to bethe eldest of the four, frowned darkly. To him the host turnedimpatiently. 

"Ah!" cried he, "my words have struck you illy, my Lord Catesby, thatyou frown so ominously!"

"Nay, Percy!" replied the other, the shadow of a smile playing aboutthe corners of his mouth. "Thy words but recalled me to my duty. Asthou sayest, we have spoken much, and I did but consider that talkingwould scarce pull from the throne----"

He who was attired in the gray velvet started. "Not so plainly; not soopenly, my good Catesby!" he interrupted, "or as my name be JackWright, I----"

The language of his companion aroused the dormant energies and spiritof Catesby. 

"Faith!" cried he, bringing his clenched hand down upon the table, "methinks the adventure with my Lord of Essex hath left thy stomachbut poorly fitted for so tough a morsel as the undoing of the 'WisestFool in Christendom. ' Even Sir Digsby, who but now turned tremblingtoward the doorway, hath more spirit for the undertaking. Hath notPercy touched the keynote of our ill condition? What matters it thatwe writhe under the despotism of James Stuart? Wherefore are the penallaws renewed? Why hath England driven from her shores those who wouldserve us in our churches? Where is our Mass, our altars and the imagesof Holy Mother Church? Would we call on France, Spain and the HolyFather to sweep from the land this band of heretics who fear not God, nor respect the faith of five centuries of English kings? I tell thee, Sir John Wright, friend and fellow churchman though thou art, that'tis to us--to all the Catholics in England--that the world looks foraction. Will France act while we are idle? Thinkest thou Spain hath sosoon forgotten the Armada, that she will consent to aid while weremain under cover? 'Tis for us to open a way whereby may enter thosewho stand without, seeking our deliverance. Words beyond count, likethe drops of the ocean, have been uttered since James came to thethrone, yet are we free? 'Tis not words, I tell thee, but action, swift, sharp and merciless, that will put down our enemies. Fearestthou the block? Did Essex, did Moore, a hundred others whose faith wastheir life, fear the headsman? Good Percy hath brought us to oursenses and surely thou must see the truth of it. "

Having thus delivered himself Catesby sank into his seat, his facewhite from the intensity of the fire which burned within him. Hiscompanions remained silent, so great was their astonishment at theopenly expressed earnestness of Catesby. Percy was the first to regainspeech. 

"It ill becomes us, " said he, "that a quarrel should arise in acompany gathered for the discussion of so weighty a matter. Yet thewords of Sir Robert Catesby are well balanced, and the time draws nighwhen this same James Stuart shall know that there yet remain goodCatholics in England. Sir Thomas Winter----"

"Ah! Sir Thomas Winter!" broke in Digsby, "the hour is long past andhe is yet absent. "

"There be some good reason, " said Wright quickly. "Sir Thomas is toogood a Catholic, too earnest in the undertaking which will yet free usfrom the heretic, to absent himself willingly. And, " turning toCatesby with hand extended, "I thank thee that thou hast thus spokenso boldly; would there were more like thee to arouse the Catholics ofour country. "

The frown passed as a cloud from the brow of the elder conspirator. 

"Forgive me!" cried he, "if my words bore too much of the flame ofimpatience and too little of that unity which should ever be betweenus. As to Sir Winter, fear nothing; even now, I warrant he is on hisway hither, having perhaps been delayed by some slight adventure, forthe times are troublous and after nightfall a gentleman may not walkwith perfect safety through the streets of London. "

As though in answer to this confidence, the speaker had scarcelyfinished, when there sounded through the house three muffled raps, andPercy, uttering an exclamation, hastily left the room. 

"It may, indeed, be Winter, " said Digsby, "or, perchance, Rookwood, although he made known to me but yesterday, that certain businessdemanded his presence in the country. "

The sound of the opening and closing of the street door precluded areply. There was a clatter of feet upon the stairs, and into the roomcame Percy, followed by two men whose forms and features wereconcealed by their huge cloaks. 

The three at the table arose hurriedly, each with hand upon the hiltof his sword, but the words of one of the new comers changed theirlook of alarm into one of welcome. 

"Faith!" cried he who pressed close behind Percy, "wherefore would yoube so ready to draw blades at the coming of a comrade? Come! SirRobert Catesby, and thou Wright, and Digsby, seest not that the coldhath well nigh overcome me? Wine, therefore, wine, that we may pledgeeach other in our venture. "

So saying, Sir Thomas Winter cast aside his cloak, revealing a figureclad in doublet and hosen of somber brown, offset by slashes ofcardinal, and the gilt of the sword belt which girded his hips. 

"Welcome!" cried the others, crowding about him, "thou art, in truth, doubly welcome, as thy coming is so long after the appointed hour. "

Endeavoring to get a better view of him who closely followed Winter, Catesby made a gesture of interrogation. 

Sir Thomas laughed softly. "Ah! Good Catesby!" said he, "thou wertever of a most careful nature. Know, then, that yonder cavalier is, intruth, one of whom I have so often spoken, Guido Fawkes; an oldcomrade of the wars, and whom I have brought hither that I mightintroduce him to so good a company, a cheerful fire and a goblet ofSir Percy's stoutest wine. "

At the name of Fawkes, pronounced by Winter with an intonation whichwould have puzzled any one not familiar with certain matters knownonly to a few in England, Catesby, Wright and Digsby cast searchingglances at the new comer, as though seeking to read in the impassivefeatures of the soldier of fortune some riddle which heretofore hadpuzzled them. As to Fawkes, not deigning to notice the evidentcuriosity with which the three gentlemen greeted him, he allowed hiscloak to fall upon the floor, walked to the fireplace, and stood withback to the blaze, his eyes fixed upon the face of Winter. 

"Come!" said that personage, accepting the goblet which Percy tenderedand passing it to Fawkes, "you are surprised that I appear among youwith Master Guy at my heels. It was, indeed, a happy venture thatthrew us together. "

"Happy, forsooth, " replied Wright, "but yesterday thou didst tell usthat this same bold captain was even now in Spain, though thou hadstsummoned him hither. "

"And so I thought him, " said Winter, "fighting among the Dons that thegold pieces might jingle more merrily in his wallet. Yet he is here, and to-morrow at my own house we will confer together. What sayestthou, friend Guido?"

"Faith!" replied Fawkes, setting down the goblet which he had drainedto the bottom, "'twas for that same purpose I came to London, also tosee once more my daughter. "

"That thou shalt, " broke in Winter heartily, "and a better favoredwench can scarce be found in all the kingdom. "

Percy and Catesby exchanged glances. Winter continued:

"But first, perchance, 'twould be to the liking of the company thatI make known the manner of so unexpected a meeting, when, thinkingFriend Guido basked beneath the skies of Spain, I fell across him 'midthe snows of London. "

"'Twas of little import, " spake Fawkes gruffly; "a cast of fortune, the simple drawing of a blade, such as once befell when thou didstserve in Spain. "

"As to that, " replied Sir Winter, "these gentlemen can judge when theyhear concerning it. 'Tis true, that had this same bold cavalierremained in Castile, Thomas Winter were now ready for burial. "

"Then, " cried Percy, "thou art doubly welcome, Master Fawkes, asperchance thou shalt learn presently. "

Having refilled the goblets Winter seated himself before the fire. 

"I was delayed some two hours by certain matters within my owndwelling, " began he, "and it was with exceeding impatience that Ihastened hither, not following the most public highways, but seeking ashorter passage through unfrequented alleys, in order to join you thesooner. 

"Methinks I had gone some two thousand paces, my face muffled andsword ready to hand, when suddenly there sprang upon me from theshadow of a doorway, two ruffians, who, making short shift ofcourtesy, demanded my purse and such valuables as were upon my person. Having slight desire for so rude a giving, I did straightway put myback against a wall, and with drawn blade contended against the two. They, being persons of fixed purpose, and withal, excellent swordsmen, had near ended the matter by thrusting me through, when mostopportunely came a third man who, perceiving two against one, thrustthe larger of the ruffians through the back, and would have donelikewise with the other, but the fellow took to his heels and ran asthough the devil pursued him. 

"The adventure was quickly over, and my rescuer coolly wiping hisblade upon the cloak of the dead robber did swear roundly in Spanish, for that his amusement had been of so short duration. 

"'Faith!' growled he looking up at me, ''tis not thus they fight inSpain; yet, having perchance rendered thee some slight service, canstthou, good sir, direct me to a certain dwelling, hard by St. Paul's, wherein may be found one Sir Thomas Winter, to seek whom I have cometo London?'

"Much amazed at his words I scanned him closely, for his voice had afamiliar ring in my memory. 

"'Zounds!' cried he, noting that I sought to read his features, 'wherefore dost thou look so hard upon me? Hath the air of Spain----'

"'Fawkes!' cried I, seizing him by the shoulders, ''tis truly myfriend Guido!'

"'Ah!' said he gruffly, 'then thou knowest me?'

"'And why not?' I replied, 'having sent for thee. '

"At this his astonishment was great, yet was he pleased that he hadcome upon me so handily. He had, he told me, but just arrived inLondon, having come hither to obtain service under me, and to see oncemore his daughter. "

"And, " said Fawkes, Winter having finished, "having so quickly foundone, I would seek the other. Blood is thicker than water, and Iwarrant me the lass is much improved both in stature and knowledge. 'Tis now close upon the morning, good gentlemen, therefore I praythee, Sir Winter, direct me whither I shall go, being in sore haste tofind her. "

Winter drew Catesby aside, whereupon a whispered consultationfollowed, the drift of which was evidently known to Percy, Wright andDigsby, though Fawkes wondered somewhat at it. His impatience soonshowed itself. 

"Zounds!" cried he, striking with his clenched hand the hilt of hisrapier, "I am much beholden to thee, Sir Winter, and later--but now, Ipray thee, make haste, that I find my daughter. "

Catesby flushed angrily, for the words of the soldier of fortunestruck illy upon his haughty temper, and he would have replied, butWinter pressed his arm. 

"Good Guido, " said he, soothingly, "thy haste is most commendable. Gothen to thy daughter, and that thou mayest not miss the way, followclosely the directions I shall give thee. Upon leaving Sir Percy'sdoor, turn thou to the left, going down the street which leads pastthe gate of St. Paul's. Proceed five hundred paces, then turn about tothy left, when thou wilt see before thee a narrow street, upon thecorner of which is situate a gabled dwelling, bearing upon its peak agolden arrow. Count then two score doors from the corner, and upon thethree and fortieth, knock loudly; 'tis there thy daughter dwelleth. "

At Winter's words all signs of impatience vanished from the soldier'smanner. 

"By the keys of Peter!" cried he, "I am much beholden to thy lordship. Having spoken with the lass, where may I find thee?"

"Fear not, " replied Winter, "for in the evening, about the hour ofnine, I will come for thee. Go thou, then, speedily. "

Fawkes made haste to snatch his cloak, and having wrapped it abouthim, bowed to the company and, preceded by Percy, clattered down thestairs. 

"Methinks he will serve us, " muttered Winter; "yet, good Catesby, mustwe deal gently with him, for, being of an exceeding rough nature, 'twill need but an ill-timed word to turn him into gunpowder. "

CHAPTER III. 

THE HOME-COMING OF GUIDO FAWKES. 

"By my hilt!" exclaimed Fawkes, as he closed the door of the councilchamber and wrapped his long cloak well about him, "'tis a merry nightI've had; first, in none too clean a pot-house; then a stout thrustfor good Sir Thomas, --'twas passing strange that I did once more standtwixt him and glory; and, last of all, a stoup of good old wine in thecompany of a most noble throng. Indeed, good Guido, " he continued, asmusing to himself he walked along, "thou wert made, I marry, forbetter things than cracking the knavish pates of yellow Dons; butguard thy touchy temper well, for even to-night thou couldst but sadlybrook a small delay, and wouldst have answered my Lord Catesby'shaughty look with scant courtesy. I fear thy warlike nature wouldpoorly thrive upon a diet of quiet living. But these be times when thedogs of war are ill leashed, and need small urging to slip theirfetters and bark and bite anew. I question much what the morrow holds, and would that Sir Thomas had made some mention of my employ. 

"By St. George, " he added after a moment, slackening his pace as if asudden thought occurred to him, "they did seem but poorly pleased tosee a strange face standing in their door, until Sir Walter stoodsponsor for the same. Aye, and what names had these noblegentlemen--Catesby, Wright, Digsby, Percy! All good Catholics, " hecontinued, a cunning smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "And, who is King? Why, James Stuart, to be sure, a most bigoted Protestant!What was it that Master Martin said about Mary's dripping head? Well, well, friend Guido, thy good sword may not be red with rust alone;wait but a little while, and thy employment may be most pleasing tothy taste, and thy conscience, also. " Then he drew his cloak moreclosely about him and quickly proceeded on his way. 

At last, following the direction given him by Winter, Fawkes arrivedbefore a small, neat house, situated in the outskirts of the city;stopping in front to make sure it was the one for which he was inquest, he proceeded up the steps and knocked thrice. No answerfollowed his summons, and after several moments of waiting, which wereconsumed in the stamping of feet and walking up and down, for it wasbitterly cold in the frosty air, he again repeated the announcement ofhis presence to those within, this time with better result. The soundof a casement opening, caused him to look up, and he beheld thewrinkled visage of an old woman, who, with blinking red-rimmed eyes, and night-cap on her head, stood regarding him with an air of evidentdisfavor, for presently she cried in a shrill, toothless voice, "Getthee gone, thou beggar, I have naught for thee. " "By my soul, goodmother, " answered the man, laughing heartily, "thy welcome doth matchthe morning air in warmth. Dost not know thy son Guy?"

"By the blessed Virgin!" exclaimed she, in half-frightened tones, evidently engendered by a most wholesome respect for her son, "waitbut a trice until the door be unbarred. " Saying which, she hastilywithdrew her head and closed the window. Immediately after, the shrilltones of her voice were heard within the house, crying: "MistressElinor! Mistress Elinor! hurry down and let thy sire in, for he standswithout!" A moment of silence, followed by the drawing of bolts, andsuddenly the door was thrown open, disclosing the figure of a girl, who, with outstretched arms, exclaimed: "My father!"

Standing bathed in the rosy light of coming day, she was in highcontrast to the rough, weather-beaten man, who quickly clasped her tohis breast. The pale and lightly tinted olive complexion, which showeddescent from some far-off Castilian ancestor, harmonized well with thedainty but clear cut features. A shapely head, surrounded by a wealthof dark and glossy hair, carried downward from the temples andgathered into a knot behind, so as to completely cover the fragileears, formed a fitting frame for eyes of the darkest violet, which, asthey gazed up into his, showed the fondest love. A soft gray gown, half closed at the throat and fastened about the waist by a silvergirdle, completed the attire of a slender but perfect figure, throwninto bold outline by her attitude. 

"Forsooth, " exclaimed Fawkes, as soon as he could speak for hercaresses, "methinks thou at least art glad to see thy old father onceagain. " Then, as he held her at arm's length, that he might bettergaze upon the face, "indeed, thou art changed; 'tis the promise of thebud fulfilled in the blossoming flower. But let us in, for the coldair ill becomes me after the warming sun of Spain, and frost butroughly handles such tender plants as thou art. "

"Nay, nay!" exclaimed she, closing the door and throwing her armsabout him, "thy tender plant is naught but a sprig of hardy ivy, whichhath needed these many months the sturdy oak on which to cling. " Then, with a little shiver, and a laugh, as her warm body rested against thecold steel of his breastplate, "thou dost give thy ivy but a chillyhold, Sir Oak. "

"Ah, " said Fawkes, looking at her; "thou wert always the same daintypuss, but I trow this cold cuirass hath been warm enough even for thynestling, as down it hath gushed the warm blood of many a valiant foekilled in close conflict. But enough of battles now, my pretty, forhome once more am I, and not sorry to let such bloody deeds rest. "Unfastening his cloak, sword and breastplate, he threw himself into achair before the fire which burned brightly on the hearth. 

"But where's thy good grandam?" queried he, "must she tarry to put onsilks and satins in which to bid her son a welcome?"

"Nay, " replied the girl with a laugh, kneeling at his side; "she, poorsoul, was but half awake; for these cold days illy suit her bones, andshe doth lie long in bed. "

"And thou, " said the man, taking her head between his hands, "art uplike a lark, to bid thy father welcome. Didst expect my return?"

"Sir Winter made mention of thy coming, but set no special day for thyarrival, " answered the girl, a shadow passing over her face as shelooked into the blaze. 

"And did he say for what I was to come?" inquired Fawkes, evidentlyanxious to set his mind at rest upon that subject. 

"That he did not, " she replied, still gazing abstractedly at the fire, "but simply said that if thou camest to England he would give theeservice which would keep thee and me near to each other. And, "continued she, suddenly turning toward him and taking both his handsin hers, "thou wilt not leave me again for so long a time; I have beensore lonely and oft have felt the need of thy sturdy arm on which tolean. "

"That I will not, my pretty dear, " said Fawkes, drawing her closelyto him; "and thou didst really miss me, whom some do illy term apock-marked ruffian?"

"Indeed, thou art no ruffian!" Elinor cried, her eyes ablaze in amoment; "and if any one so dared to call thee, I'd----"

"Well, well!" the father exclaimed, evidently surprised and lookinginto the flushed face, "my sweet rose hath thorns as well as blushingleaves, and would, I dare swear, strike a good blow for her sire'sname. By good Sir Cupid, but I do pity the one who doth try to balkthy temper, little woman. "

"And soon will come a time when thou wilt have a brave gentleman topity, " broke in a mumbling voice which made the two start and turn. 

The figure of an old woman, bent by age, with face resembling anill-fitting parchment mask placed upon a skull, advanced toward them. 

"By the blessed dead, mother!" said Fawkes, arising, "thou didst turnmy blood with thy prophetic voice; but hast thou not a blessing forthy son?"

"That I have, good Guido, and most glad am I to see thee back! I gavethee a rude greeting from the window, for my eyes and ears have failedof late, but I am not so blind that I cannot see two brave gentlementied to my lady's girdle there, " she cried, with a wheezy laugh, pointing her trembling hand at the girl who stood with an arm drawnthrough her father's. 

"What is this tale?" said Fawkes, with feigned sternness, turningtoward his daughter; "hath thy pretty ways been breaking heartsalready?" Then, as he observed the blushing face and downcasteyes:--"There, there, my darling; all in good time. When thy heartdoth open of its own accord, thy father's ear will ever be a willinglistener. By Venus, " he continued in a voice full of admiration, as hegazed upon her fair figure, "I could not marvel or condemn if thouhadst fifty gallants at thy little heels, and would but admire therogues the more for their excellent taste in beauty. But, " he added, evidently wishing to turn the conversation on noting herembarrassment, "I have not broken bread for nigh onto fifteen hours;after I have taken food I will listen to thy pretty tale, and tellthee many a one such as thou once wert fond of. Dost remember how thoudidst, long ago, climb upon my knee, and tugging with thy baby handsat my shaggy beard, beg for a story ere thy bedtime came?"

"That I do, " exclaimed the girl, all her embarrassment gone; "butfirst I will set before thee what our larder affords. "

So saying, and aided by the old woman, she began preparations for themorning meal. Having done ample justice to the repast quickly setbefore him, and having lighted a long pipe from a coal without theblaze, Fawkes again settled himself before the fire, and, after two orthree long puffs, turned toward Elinor, who was employed about theroom, and said:

"Now, my pretty little housekeeper, thou hast done enough; sit theebeside thy father. It is long since he hath known the pleasure of thysweet face and a blazing hearth, and the good grandam seems illcompany, for there she nods but a drowsy greeting, " added he, pointingwith his pipe to the old woman, who had fallen asleep in a remotecorner of the chamber. 

"Dost thou remember the last time we sat so?" asked the girl, as shecame and knelt beside him, placing an arm upon his shoulder; "'twasthe night before I left for England; and, oh! it was a most sorrytime. " Then fingering the ends of her silver girdle and glancing atthe old woman, who was still asleep, she began in a hesitating voice:

"Mayhap the speech of my good grandam might mislead thee into thinkingme but a sorry flirt. Therefore, I would make explanation, which ismost easy, and set thee right. "

"I thought naught of it, daughter, for I am much too well acquaintedwith her mischief-working words, that are ever ready to brew atrouble. If thou hast aught to say, however, and would feel better forthe telling, pray go on, and know an ever-loving heart awaits thyspeech, " replied Fawkes, stroking her hair. 

"Then thou must know, " she began abruptly, "that Sir Thomas Winter isa frequent caller at this house, and, my father, how can I tell theefor the very shame of it? He hath never spoken to that effect, butthere are many thoughts ne'er proclaimed by tongue which are mostloudly uttered by eye and hand, often, too, more truly eloquent arethey than those framed in simple words; and by this very language yetoutspoken, I know soon will come the day when there will be asked aheart----" she broke off suddenly and buried her face in herhands--"that is not now mine to give. "

"There, there, my pretty one, stop thy crying, for thine eyes weremade for smiles and not for grief. It is naught so bad; Sir Winter isa fine gentleman and much we owe him. But thou art my daughter, and I, a poor, rough soldier; it would be an ill-assorted match; in truth, Ibelieve that the lark should not pair with the golden finch, who wouldsoon tire of her sweet song, because she lacked the yellow feathers ofher mate. What, dost thou but cry the harder for my words? I have not, I know, the tender touch of a mother to dry thy tears, but a morewilling hand to comfort cannot be found. " Then he added tenderly: "Ifthou hast aught more to tell, open thy heart to me and I will play thewoman for a while. "

"Think not, then, from my tears, " she suddenly exclaimed, lifting herhead and confronting her father with that spirit which is often hid ina seemingly gentle nature, "that I am ashamed of him on whom my lovedoth fall; or, rather, of him to whom my love doth mount, for he is asfar above me in worth, as I beneath him in station. But what hathequality to do with it? Is it so--that love is only right betweenthose whose purses tip the scale alike? Nay, that would be asacrilege, for this mortal love of ours is the one thing which liftsus from the earth. Doth God not love the most unworthy of hiscreatures? Would it be just to say that salvation should be meted onlyto those who are the Creator's equal? Who of us, then, would escapethe flame? Not so, " she continued, her eyes ablaze with the intensityof her emotion. "It is that very affection bestowed upon us by our Godthat lifts us poor mortals into fellowship with him. Love knows nolaws of title, tithes or wealth, and by the very act of loving, thepeasant rightly seats himself beside the king. Ah, think not, dearfather, " she cried, falling on her knees, "that I would lightly castaside a wish of thine. Dwell but upon the love that thou once felt, and remember it is she, the reflection of that self-same love, whoseeks thy aid. "

There was silence, broken only by the sobs of the kneeling girl. Fawkes regarded his daughter with an air of evident surprise, notunmixed with anxiety in anticipation of what might follow; for everyaction showed she was wrought up to the highest state of excitementand earnestness. After a moment he said in a quiet voice: "I trustthese hot words of thine are but the outcome of some foolish fancy, which, like the silly scorpion, will kill itself with its ownviolence. But thou hast not told me all; until I am fully advised, mycounsel can be but scant. What name hath he? What title doth he hold?For by thy speech he must be noble?"

"Herbert Effingston, " replied the girl. 

"I know not that name, " answered the other, after a moment's musing. "And his title?"

"Viscount Herbert Effingston, son of Lord Monteagle. "

"Thou hast indeed flown high, " Fawkes cried, with a sudden outburst ofpassion. "Because I love thee I would wish thee dead, aye, dead, " hecontinued, fiercely, raising himself from the chair, "rather than havethee bear the hated name of Monteagle. "

"But thou knowest no evil of him, " cried the girl, springing to herfeet. "He is good; he is true and noble; aye, and hear me, it was hewho saved my life--a life thou lovest. I know what thou wouldst say, but the son is not holden for his father's sins; he is not----"

"But he is of the brood, " thundered Fawkes, now thoroughly aroused;"the litter of the jackal will eat the holy dead left by itssire--'tis in their nature. Monteagle!" he repeated with fine scorn. "And marry, that would be a pretty name for thee to choose--a namethat hath done more to set aside our Holy Catholic Church than all thefiends in hell. What I know is true, " he exclaimed, seizing her by thearm. "Hark to what I say to thee; even I have heard, for ill fameflies with swallow's wings swiftly across the sea, and when I am done, if thou still dost love, pray to the Madonna to stop the beating of aheart that holds so unworthy a regard. Thou sayest the son saved thylife--by what means I know not. Think you that doth make amends forall the evil done by him and his? Enough of this, and listen, " hecontinued, mastering his anger and pacing up and down the room. "Monteagle and his son, both Catholics, and until James Stuart reachedthe throne, most valiant champions of their faith, have, since thescepter reached the hands of that wise fool, endeavored by all thefoul means within their power, to defeat the efforts of their fellowchurchmen, which, as thou knowest--and all England as well--weredirected against those laws which meant the downfall of our church. Did these hell hounds come boldly out and show a lusty fight--whichwould, in a small degree, have recommended them? Nay, that is not thenature of the serpent. They falsely affirm themselves most strongadherents to the Pope, receive the confidences of the Papal Delegates, and by treasonable use of this knowledge of their secret mission, defeat them ere they strike a blow. Is it for truth that they areagainst the faith? Not so; for the hypocrites do cross themselves andbow before the Host. Is it for a principle that they act thus? Nay, for they have none. What, then, is their object? It is to gain favorwith the King, and place themselves by underhanded, sneaking wayswhere true merit ne'er could raise them. Ah, my daughter, " he cried, with a voice full of supplication, "I love thee much too well to causethy heart a single pang. Canst thou not see it all aright? And even iffor love of me thou wilt not pluck this passion from thy heart, thendo it for the love thou owest God. "

While her father had been speaking, the girl stood motionless, everyline on her face showing plainly the conflict raging within herbreast. Her eyes were dry, for there are griefs so deep and searingthat they, with their fiery tongues, do lick up the springing tearsbefore they can fall. It was not in her nature to love lightly; to herpassion meant more than a mere auxiliary to her existence; simplymaking life brighter and happier; every action, deed or thought, however trivial and far removed from him, by some subtle influencelike that which turns the magnetic needle toward the north, had beenturned to bear upon this love of hers. The accusations just utteredconcerning his traitorous actions with regard to her faith, influencedher but little; for her attitude toward religion resembled that ofmost of her kind; the pure feminine mind turns instinctively towardthat which they deem great and good, believing, as a rule, --shall wesay ignorantly?--in all which is said to issue from a source theycannot comprehend, and which they fear for the mystery attached to it. Man, by instinct, loves power and dominion over others. Womansubstitutes for that characteristic the longing to be ruled, and inthat subordination of herself seeks protection. In this girl's breast, the desire for a mystical and intangible power which promised toprotect, had been, to a degree, supplanted by the knowledge that thereawaited one who would clasp her in strong arms, and guard her againstall the world. Therefore the words spoken a moment ago had but littleweight, and played a small part in forming the resolution to which shesoon gave voice. Duty was clear. This poor, lonely man, her father, who had known but little happiness, whose whole existence was summedup in two great all-absorbing passions--a fearful, passionate beliefin God, and after that, his love for her, --for his sake she must makethe sacrifice. 

"Ah!" thought she, "sacrifice means death, and my love can never die, but I shall hide it, bury it deep within my bosom, until in time itsstrength shall tear my heart asunder; then I, in place of love, willbe the sacrifice. "

This, and more, quickly passed through her mind, but now she turnedtoward the man with that wonderful self-control which only can befound in woman, and said, in a quiet voice, devoid of passion andmalice, for she felt none:

"If it be thy wish, I will do it for love of thee. "

"My daughter!" cried he, taking the motionless figure in his arms, "thou hast saved me from a living hell. Thou wilt soon find I havebrought but good counsel. Pluck this poisoned shaft from out thyheart, and if the wound hurt, soothe the smart with sweet knowledge ofmy love, and above all, with a sense of justice done to God. Forget, my pretty one, thy father's hasty temper; or, if remembered, let it beonly as called forth by love of thee. But we shall talk no more ofpassions; let them go. Come now beside me, while I rest, for I am soreweary after my long journey. Sit so, " he continued, reclining on abench before the blaze, taking the white hand she offered and drawingher down to him, "that I may not lose thee again, even in my dreams. "

She silently complied with his request. It would have been impossibleto express what was in her mind, so paralyzed and benumbed was it bythe heavy blow which had suddenly fallen. As the fingers which heldhers gradually relaxed in slumber, she slowly sank upon her knees, andwith outstretched arms, in a tearless voice, exclaimed: "Oh, my love, thou who art my life; since on earth I must forever be without thee, let some kindly hand give me unto death!"

CHAPTER IV. 

THE SUPERIOR OF THE JESUITS. 

While Guy Fawkes held converse with his daughter, the five gentlemenhe had left at Percy's house were soberly discussing the weightymatters which had drawn them together. The sun had already gilded thedome of St. Paul, when Winter, Catesby, Wright and Digsby made readyto take their departure. On the threshold of the chamber Catesbypaused, and turning to Percy, said: "'Twill mayhap be two days ere Iagain come to thee, for it is my purpose to make a journey into thecountry, that I may gain better understanding concerning certainmatters which rest heavily on my mind; therefore marvel not if for onenight I be absent. "

"Thou goest then to Worcester?" asked Winter. 

"Aye, to Hendlip that, in its wisdom, the counsel of the Church maydirect me. Having gone so far 'twere ill to draw back, yet methinksthere is another whose words we must not treat lightly. "

"Garnet!" burst forth Digsby. 

Winter started. "Not here, " he whispered quickly, "name not one whosezeal hath banished him from England. Let James once know that he isyet among us, and not a hiding place in Britain could shelter him. "

And a wise precaution it was that the name of Henry Garnet should notbe brought to the King's notice. Balancing the advantage of beingneither Catholic nor Protestant, the accusation that he was about tofavor the Papists, had so angered James, that he cast aside allpretentions of toleration to the adherents of Rome. Coming to thethrone with promises of favor to the Catholic nobility, he had renewedwith great severity the laws of repression, and the banishment of theJesuits. Many of the latter had sought refuge in the houses of themore zealous Papists, and among them Henry Garnet, Superior of theOrder of Jesus in England, an accomplished scholar, and a man of milddemeanor, though an uncompromising adherent to his faith. 'Twas toGarnet, that Catesby, troubled in spirit and, perhaps, uncertain ofthe undertaking which lay before him, had resolved to turn, that theadvice of the wily Jesuit might strengthen his purpose, or check for atime, his zeal in the desperate venture which at present filled hismind. 

Some two hours after leaving his companions, Catesby, mounted upon apowerful chestnut mare and wrapped closely about with a fur linedcloak, cantered slowly through the streets of London which led to theoutskirts of the city facing the northwest. The storm of the previousnight had ceased, and the country side lay wrapped in a mantle ofwhite, broken here and there by the gray wall of some silenthabitation from whose chimneys the first blue smoke was rising incircling clouds through the crisp morning air. 

Having reached the open country, the rider set his horse into agallop, for his destination lay many leagues away, and it was hispurpose to reach it ere nightfall. Hendlip House stood near the middleof a spacious park thickly studded with trees; the structure itselfwas surrounded by shrubbery, and contained within its walls manysecret hiding places, trap doors and double wainscotings. It had beenconstructed by one Thomas Abington, a devoted recusant of the reign ofQueen Elizabeth, and the dwelling was a famous resort for those whosedesire it was to conceal themselves from the authorities. 'Twas there, the Superior of the Jesuits, together with a clerk of that Order, Oldcorne by name, and Owen, a servant, had been taken by certain ofthe Catholic gentry, among whom were Lord Rookwood and Sir EverardDigsby. 

That precaution had been observed to guard against surprise was shownby the presence of a watchman, who, on the arrival of Catesby outsidethe manor grounds, stepped from his lodge that he might hold conversewith the new comer, and if an officer, or one attached to theParliament, might give warning to those within the house. 

Upon perceiving, however, that it was Sir Robert Catesby who came thusunexpectedly to Hendlip, the man doffed his cap, returning a civilgreeting to the rider's remark upon the coldness of the weather. 

"Has my Lord Rookwood passed this way?" inquired he, reining in hishorse. 

"He has, in truth, " replied the servant, catching dexterously thesilver piece tossed him. "Even now, together with Mistress Vaux, he iswithin the house. "

"Vaux! Anne Vaux!" muttered Catesby, "there must be then some weightymatter afoot that she comes to Hendlip. " And touching his horse withthe spur, he galloped up the avenue which led to the main entrance ofthe mansion. Being well known by its inmates he was at once conductedto an upper chamber, the door of which was unbarred by Owen, whomotioned him to enter. 

There were three occupants of the room. Before the great fireplace, ablaze with logs, sat Henry Garnet. Scarce past middle age, thelearned prelate was a striking figure, clad though he was in thesimple, dark-hued garb of his Order. Beneath a brow white and smoothas a child's, shone a noble countenance, gentle almost to effeminacy, but redeemed by firm lines about the mouth, and the intensity of thesteel-gray eyes. As Catesby entered, these eyes, which had been gazingabstractedly into the fire, lighted with a smile of welcome. 

One of the Jesuit's companions was a personage whose dress and mannerproclaimed him a noble of the period. He leaned indolently against theframe of the wide window facing the avenue, through which the horsemanhad come, and he it was, Lord Rookwood, who first announced to thePrelate that a visitor approached. 

The third occupant of the apartment was a woman. Born and bred inluxury, the daughter of a peer of England, Anne Vaux was numberedamong the most devoted followers of the Superior. Scarce six andtwenty, she had passed her minority at the court of Elizabeth, and theaccession of James the First had marked no change in the life of thelady-in-waiting. Anne of Denmark, pleased with the loveliness of thedaughter of Lord Vaux, had retained her near her person. 

Pausing on the threshold, Catesby took in the three personages at aglance, but it was to the Jesuit that he offered his first salutation, dropping on one knee as Garnet extended his hand, upon a finger ofwhich glistened the signet ring denoting his holy office. 

"Welcome, Sir Robert Catesby!" murmured the Prelate, motioning thecavalier to draw near the fire. "'Tis, indeed, a most happycircumstance which brings to Hendlip so devoted a servant to the causeof God. "

"The more happy, " replied Catesby, "that I find your Reverence of goodcheer, and in converse with my Lord of Rookwood and Mistress Vaux. "

"They are truly of much comfort to me in my solitude, " said theSuperior, "and with the help of God I have patience to remain inidleness, that at the time of harvest I may be ready. "

Catesby cast a quick glance at Rookwood, but the imperturbable face ofthe latter told him nothing. It was Anne Vaux who spoke. 

"'Tis but little, indeed, the followers of this most holy man can doto comfort him, " she said softly, "yet it seemeth fit that such of usas may, shall make known to him that even the court of James----"

Garnet smiled. "Anne!" said he, turning his gray eyes affectionatelyupon her, "'tis a comfort beyond human utterance. " Then to Catesby:"But thou hast ridden hard, good son?"

"That I may benefit by thy wisdom, " replied Sir Robert, "for my soulis troubled. "

"A confession!" cried Anne, rising quickly. "Therefore I will retirewith my Lord of Rookwood. "

The latter shrugged his shoulders; evidently it but poorly fitted hisdesire that the conversation with the Superior should be unheard byhim. Catesby noted his displeasure, and signaled him to remain. Garnetcomprehended the matter. 

"Not so!" said he, "I warrant me, good Catesby seeketh not theconfessional, but to render certain reports concerning that which hathtranspired in London, and of which Lord Rookwood hath someunderstanding. Yet, lest our discourse weary thee, good Anne, thoumayst retire, and if it please thee, return when our conference isended. " So saying, he arose and conducted her to the door. 

When alone with the two gentlemen, the Prelate looked fixedly atCatesby. 

"It were fitting, " said he "that Mistress Vaux, zealous though she be, know not too much concerning the temper of our following. Now tell mequickly what hath arisen to disturb thee. "

Catesby walked thrice about the room, then stopped before the Jesuitand said soberly:

"That which agitates my mind is, perforce, the same matter whichtroubles thee--a holy father of the Church, my Lord of Rookwood, andsome tens of thousands of loyal Catholics in England. 'Tis the brokenpromises of James--the overthrow of our religion, the----"

Garnet checked him. 

"Thou speakest as a true Catholic, " said he, "yet has thy grievancebeen long endured. There are many men whose childhood witnessed theseselfsame wrongs. "

"Aye!" cried Catesby, seizing the hand of the Superior, "oursufferings have, indeed, been of long duration, but we looked to theascension of the new King to lessen evils which have pressed so hardupon us. 'Twas to James of Scotland----"

The eyes of the Jesuit blazed fiercely. 

"Wretched country!" cried he, stretching out his arms, "thou hast intruth suffered long, and the blessing of Most Holy God hath gone fromthee. Thy soul is troubled, Sir Robert Catesby, thou, who art free tolive as suiteth thee! Thinkest thou then that I, whom the Holy Churchhath appointed to teach her children, suffer nothing being thus aprisoner behind the walls of Hendlip House? If thou art vexed atthought of penalties, and cruel enactments against thy brethren, whatthinkest thou of the happiness of one to whom banishment without voiceor trial, such as are granted to the lowest criminal, follows from sounjust a law? What have I done, wherein lieth the crime of all thepriests in England, that the hand of James is turned against us? Ifthou seek out the King, or question the Parliament, and ask whereforewe are driven from our churches--they will answer thee, 'Ye areCatholics. '"

During his words, spoken with the fire of an ardent spirit, theslender form of the Jesuit seemed to tower, as an enraged deity, abovethe persons of his two companions. But having poured out thebitterness of his soul, the meekness of the man asserted itself, andsinking into a chair he buried his face in his hands. The sightaroused Catesby to madness. 

"Aye!" cried he, advancing to the Prelate's side, "I will go to James, but 'twill not be to test his arguments. One thrust and thou, with allCatholics, will be free. "

Drawing out his sword he threw it at the feet of the silent Jesuit. 

"Bless thou therefore this trusty blade, good Father, that it may doits work quickly. Bless it, and me, for ere night comes again 'twillhave drunk the blood of the heretic!"

The recklessness of the other's purpose roused Garnet from hislethargy. 

"Thou art mad, good Catesby, " said he sadly; "that thou thinkest tokill the King of England. Put up thy sword! 'Tis not through theviolence of one man that England will be freed. We have waited longalready; pray for patience that thou mayst bear with meekness theburden which rests heavily upon thee. Thinkest thou I groan not underit?"

Catesby might have replied in anger, but the voice of Rookwoodforestalled him. 

"There are many gentlemen in England this day who from waiting havegrown weary, and who hope no more for indulgence from the King and hisParliament. Some there may be, who, even as good Catesby, have intheir minds resolved upon most desperate measures. If it be then a sinto----"

Garnet turned upon him saying:

"A sin! A sin to slay the King of England?"

"Yet one who hath broken his promises, forsaken the religion of hismother, and who, blind to the mercy of God, doth seek to uproot thisholy cause!" cried Catesby. 

Whatever might have been the ultimate purpose of the Jesuit, whetheras an Englishman he recoiled at the thought of the assassination ofhis King, or, as a Catholic, his zeal overbalanced his loyalty, he sawthat it was quite time to curb the fanatical tendencies of hiscompanions. The very life of the Catholic religion in England, his ownsafety, and that of his fellow priests, might be sacrificed by apremature attempt on the part of Catesby, or some of his followers, toend their wrongs by the murder of the King. With the keen perceptionwhich Garnet eminently possessed, he saw that the desired change inthe religious policy of the government could only be brought about bya farther reaching blow than the removal of the person of James. Norwould a decided objection on his part to their purpose serve his ends, for it was his policy to draw about him the leading Catholic gentry ofthe kingdom. He therefore cast about for a middle course whereby thosewhose zeal had overcome their discretion might be pacified. Theremembrance of Anne Vaux suggested an expedient. 

"Good Catesby, and thou, Lord Rookwood, " said he blandly, "your zealin the cause hath much endeared you to me, yet, it were well toproceed with due caution in so grave a matter. Perchance King Jameshath it in his mind to extend to us that kind indulgence which wecrave for. Ye know that the Parliament of England is composed of manywho prate much about their liberties, and if James seek to aid us bydissimulation, 'twere an ill thing to cut the unripe corn. "

"What then, good Father?" asked Catesby. 

"Thou knowest, " replied the Jesuit, "that Mistress Vaux is closelyunited to the Court. Maybe thou knowest, also, that there is a certaingentleman, close to the King, who would make Anne his mistress. 'Tis atruth that the wit of woman worketh much, and it comes to me that thiscourtier, to please Anne Vaux, might seek to discover what is in themind of his master regarding the Catholics of England. "

"'Tis a happy thought, " said Rookwood, "if we be benefited. "

"All is in the hands of God, " replied Garnet solemnly, and rising hetouched a bell which summoned Owen from the ante-chamber. 

"Good Owen, " said he, "bear to Lady Vaux my desire for her presence;our conference is ended. "

CHAPTER V. 

WHY MASTER FAWKES WAS SUMMONED TO ENGLAND. 

Elinor sat by the fire with a piece of embroidery in her hand. Herthoughts were evidently not upon it, for ever and anon she would laydown the work and sink into deep meditation, which ended in sighs;then, recollecting herself, the busy fingers would once more resumetheir task. The sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor without, caused her to turn toward the door, through which a man presentlyentered, who exclaimed in a petulant voice, as he ineffectuallyendeavored to fasten a sword belt: "Come, my daughter, lay down thypretty work for a moment, and aid thy father to gird this cursedbaldric about him, for the ends be as coy as an old maid and herlover. " She arose to comply with his request, and quickly fastened thedesired buckle, then inquired, on noting his attire:

"Dost thou go abroad to-night?"

"Verily, I do, if Sir Thomas doth keep his appointment. 'Tis past thehour of nine, and much I marvel that he hath not yet arrived. "

"Then I will now bid thee good night, " she answered, approaching andabout to kiss him, when hearing one coming up the steps caused her todelay. 

"There, by St. Paul, he is at last, " as a knock sounded on the door. "Run, my daughter, and open to Sir Thomas. "

The girl hesitated a moment as if loth to comply, then stepped intothe hall and withdrew the bolt. Soon the tones of a man's voice couldbe heard exclaiming: "A good evening to thee, Mistress Elinor. It isbut fitting that an angel should unbar the door of Paradise, for Ideem the house naught else wherein thou dwellest. " Kissing thereluctant hand which he held, then observing Fawkes, who had advancedto greet him, "Well, well, friend Guido; thou lookest fit for a battleroyal, with thy long war rapier girded by thy side. But, " hecontinued with a laugh, "it would ill become thee to go abroad poorlyarmed in my company, for we do in truth seem to invite attack whentogether. Did thy father tell thee, Mistress Elinor, of his adventureyester-night, which had for its intent the rescuing me again from direstraits?"

"Nay, he did not; for my father's brave deeds need not his tongue toset them forth, and he is much too modest to narrate his exploits, even though they had so worthy an object as the saving of thy life, "she replied with a little courtesy. 

"Marry, " broke in Fawkes, "I was marveling why thou didst not come, and was thinking perchance 'twould be better to go outside and listenfor the sound of a distant brawl. " Then observing the small courtsword which hung by the other's side, he continued, pointing towardit: "Thou art but lightly equipped. I wonder much that thou dost go sopoorly prepared; but, " he added, loosening his long rapier from itsscabbard, "thy purse is safe to-night at least. Wilt come for a momentto the fire, and warm thyself?"

"I cannot, though much I regret that precious time forbids; if thouart ready, methinks we had best depart. "

"I am ever at thy service, " cried Fawkes, and turning towards hisdaughter, who had thrown a long cloak over his shoulders, "I'll wishthee a good repose, sweet one, for 'twill be late ere I return. "Embracing her, then going toward Winter, he continued: "'Tis mostpleasing to have a pretty face on which to kiss a sad good-bye, andknow that loving arms await to greet a happy return. "

"Aye, that it is, " he responded, biting his lip and watching the two;"but we poor single men have no such bliss, and must be content towatch the happiness of others. Still, there is left me the sweetsorrow of saying good night. " He extended his hand to the girl, wholet hers rest for an instant within his. "Now, if thou art ready, Master Fawkes, I will follow. "

The two passed out into the night, both turning, however, when halfway down the path to wave a parting adieu to the fair figure standingwithin the door. For some little distance the men continued on insilence, each engrossed in thought. At length, Winter observing thatFawkes seemed well aware as to the direction they were taking, exclaimed with some little surprise: "Master Guido, one would thinkthe way to my residence an old traveled road to thee, but if Irecollect aright, this to my knowledge is the first time thou hastgone over it. "

"Marry, but I have a guide, Sir Thomas, " pointing to the dome of St. Paul's church, which reared itself dark against the star-studded sky. 

"Beshrew my heart, doth some angel of heaven fly before thee?" as justat the moment Fawkes turned sharply down another street leading totheir destination. 

"Nay, I have not that to point the way, but a friend of thine gave methe direction. I did not think to tell thee the first night of ourmeeting, for we had other matters of more pointed nature to engrossour thoughts, " he added with a laugh, striking his sword; "and it didslip my tardy mind that I was the bearer of a message from him tothee. "

"I can but illy guess who he may be; but, pray, say on, by what namewent he?"

"Giles Martin; and he did wish I would convey his best respects andwishes for thy good welfare. "

"By St. Peter! Where didst thou run across the man? I had deemed himlong dead, for naught have I seen of him these many years. "

"The truth is, Sir Winter, he wished no mention made of his presentwhereabouts; but I deemed thou hadst a sturdy friend in him, and, "continued Fawkes, looking at the other significantly, "he did seemwell informed on divers topics concerning these troubled times. "

"What dost thou mean, friend Guido?" asked Winter, turning a quickglance toward Fawkes. 

"I am but a plain man, and thy outspoken question invites little but aplain reply. Therefore, I'll repeat his words, which were that thoudidst stand poorly with those in high places, and, further, the timeswere such that hot outspoken opinions on certain subjects were apt tobe quickly followed by the whistle of an axe flying through the air, and that the King----"

"A truce, " Winter broke in, laying his hand upon the other's arm andlooking behind with some alarm as the two entered a thoroughfare, which, by the number of people passing up and down, indicated theirapproach to a central portion of the city; "by holy St. Dunstan, framenot thy speech in such loud words, for it might be illy construed. Buthere we are at our destination, and when within, thou mayst recite allthat Master Martin told. "

The two paused in front of an iron railing surrounding a court-yard, on which fronted a residence of no mean pretensions. After unlockingthe wicket, Winter, followed by his companion, proceeded up the walk, and passing through the main doorway, entered the house. 

"This is the first time, Fawkes, that I've had the honored pleasure ofthy company at mine own fireside, " exclaimed Winter, when inside, throwing his fur-lined coat upon a chair. Then observing that hiscompanion was already busily engaged in examining a trophy of swordswhich decorated the wall, he continued: "What, do thy warlike eyesever seek the implements of thy trade? See, Guido, there is a suit ofmail that a valiant ancestor of mine did wear at Crecy, " pointingtoward a stand of armor. 

"Indeed, " answered the other, examining it, "he must of necessity havebeen brave, for, I can but illy see how running could be done, even ifthe spirit prompted the legs, attired in this heavy harness. "

"And now, if thou be ready, " exclaimed Winter, evidently anxious toarrive quickly at the task of the evening, "I will conduct thee to achamber wherein we may hold converse without fear of interruption. "

The two proceeded, Winter leading the way to the end of the hall, andpassing through a heavy open door, which closed behind them, entered aroom well adapted to the discussion of such things as must not fall onuntrusted ears. The chamber was one of spacious proportion, but onaccount of its massive black furniture, seemed to be of medium size. The walls were hung in some dark, unfigured tapestry, which added tothe somberness of the apartment, and tended to spread over all an airof gloom. The dimness of the place was in some degree relieved by acrackling fire burning upon the hearth, and two silver candelabrumsholding lighted tapers, stood upon an oaken table occupying the middleof the room. 

The only window in the place opened down to the floor, leading outupon a balcony overlooking the court-yard, and the interior of thechamber was hidden from those passing by heavy curtains, which nowwere closely drawn. A divan, several massive black oak cabinets, andthree or four high-back chairs completed the furniture of the room, with the exception of a small table, on which stood a large andcuriously wrought silver flagon and several tankards. 

"Come Master Guy, " cried Winter, filling two of the cups, "let uspreface dry work with a drink of honest vintage, and then we will toour task. "

"With all my heart, " replied Fawkes, taking the cup and draining it ata draught. 

"And now to business, " exclaimed the other, seating himself by thetable and motioning his companion to a place opposite. Having settledhimself easily in the chair, shading his face from the light of thetapers that he might better watch the countenance of the other, hebegan in a quiet voice:

"I doubt not but thou didst deem it passing strange I made noreference to the nature of the employment I had to offer thee, and, mayhap, " he continued, holding up his hand to silence an interruptionfrom his listener, "there hath arisen in thy mind suspicious thoughtscaused by a combination of incidents since thy arrival, which wouldplace me as one with whom to be identified were not as safe as servingin the King's Guard. In point of fact, I refer particularly to theoutspoken words of our friend Giles Martin. "

"In truth, " responded the other, in that quick, brusque mannerbelonging to his nature, "Master Martin did lay naught at thy door, but what I, or any other righteous man, might deem an honor to ahouse. Nay, " he continued, with some vehemence, "if what he said betrue, then I am overjoyed to find employment with one whose faith ishis greatest crime. "

"What may be the purport of thy words?" inquired Winter, slowlyturning a keen glance upon the speaker. 

"I mean, " exclaimed Fawkes, leaning over the table toward hisquestioner, "that I would think it no disgrace to serve, or, if needbe, fall by the side of one who had the courage to openly or secretlyespouse the Catholic cause in these cross-breaking days. Aye, SirThomas, I will speak without concealment, for I have guessed at manythings, and know full well that the time must soon be ripe when allwho have not craven hearts will arise in wrath, and by word of mouth, of mayhap, if need be, by a more violent measure put down those whoadvise the enactment of laws which have for their intent the uprootingof the Church in this our Kingdom. "

"By St. Michael!" exclaimed Winter, surprised that the other shouldbring to the front so clearly his opinion on a subject upon which, hehad feared, it would require no small amount of questioning to elicitanything, "thou dost astonish me with thine ardor; I always knew theeas a brave churchman, but never----"

"Time hath altered my views on many subjects, " interrupted Fawkes. "The manners of the Spaniard are not always good, and their breath isoft odorous of garlic; but by my troth, they know full well how totreat a heretic, " he added with a decisive nod of his head. "Say on, for by thy manner I judge it is thine object to sound my depth incertain matters. I know not what's afoot; but by St. Peter, "continued he, striking the table a blow which made the tapers dance, "if it hath aught to do with those--even though they be kings--whoseunholy hands would snuff our altar lights, thou canst count on MasterGuy to twist the rack or carry faggots. "

During this recital Winter watched the other with keen attention. Knowing Fawkes to be a man of indomitable will, combined withundaunted courage, and one to stop at nothing in gaining endsjustified by his conscience, he had not hesitated to recommend him asa valuable adjunct to the cause dear to himself and his companions. Heavily the weight of responsibility rested upon him; it had fallen tohis lot that he should be the one to sound this man, and decide as tohow great or small a degree of their confidence might be given to him. One error in judgment now might be followed by the death of all theirhopes, and by the thud of heads dropping into the axman's basket. Therefore he weighed the matter well before saying:

"I did not over-estimate thy zeal. There are many things I would faintell thee, the purport of which methinks thou hast already guessed, but which at present must not, for reasons, be spoken of. If thou artwilling for a time to remain in darkness, and take service as agentleman about my household, I can almost promise that the gloom ofthy ignorance on many matters may soon be dispelled by a lurid glarewhich shall be red enough, even to thy liking. I have told theenaught, but the very concealment of some things, to the observing, doth show plainly what is hid. Ask no more, and, for the present, content thyself with suppositions. If the conditions which I havenamed suit thee, then thou wilt have access to these premises at alltimes. Further, be my companion when I go abroad; for what is morenatural in these purse-cutting days than that a gentleman shoulddesire a lusty swordsman with him? Dost accept, and agree to all?" Thelast word he pronounced with great emphasis. 

"Aye, to all, " responded the other grimly, arising and extending hisgauntlet. 

"And I would further recommend, " continued Winter, drumming on thetable with his fingers, "that thou say but little about this meeting, even, " looking narrowly at Fawkes, "to thy pretty daughter; for I haveremarked there is sometimes a certain visitor at thy house who, if thereport did reach his ears that two or three gentlemen of the Catholicpersuasion were closeted together, might denounce the assembling as aconspiracy, --which would be most unjust--and bring the King's Guardwith small courtesy. Dost follow me, friend Guido?"

"That I do; but there's naught to fear; I know your meaning. Hereticswill no more darken my door. "

"That is well, and I hope, truly spoken, " replied Winter, nodding hishead in approval, and rising from his chair with an air of relief thatthe business of the evening was settled. "Let us, " he continued, filling up the cups, "drink success to our compact. "

"Ah!" cried Fawkes, pointing to the wine as it flowed from theflagon's mouth, "A most fitting color be the draught;" then, as heraised the tankard to his lips, "A toast, Sir Thomas, I will offerthee. May we be as willing to give our blood when asked, as this goodflagon to yield its red cheer to us! And now I must set out for home, and 'tis with a lighter heart than when I came. Dost thou wish mypresence here to-morrow?" he inquired as they reached the door. 

"Thou mayst call on the stroke of ten, or thereabouts. Until then, farewell. "

The host watched the form of his guest disappear in the darkness, andshutting the door, returned with a thoughtful step to the chamberwherein they had been sitting. Filling a cup with wine and raising iton high, he exclaimed with a laugh: "Troth, Master Fawkes, I did drinkto thy health awhile ago; now I will quaff a flagon to thy daughter. Here is to one, Mistress Elinor, the fairest, the sweetest wench inall England, and for one warm kiss from whose lips Sir Thomas Winterwould right gladly face grim death. Marry, " he mused, setting down thecup, "thou hast done, mayhap, a good stroke for the cause, in bringingthis bloodhound Fawkes from out of Spain, but young Monteagle, beware;for if I be judge, the Spanish treatment of a heretic leaves butlittle for the burial. "

CHAPTER VI. 

THE WISEST FOOL IN CHRISTENDOM. 

The Royal Court of King James, at Whitehall, was furnished andembellished with all the luxury which love of show and the power ofthe owner could command. Choicest tapestries draped the walls, carpetsof marvelous softness covered the floors. In the King's bedchamberstood an elaborately carved bedstead canopied with perfumed velvetcunningly wrought in silk and gold. Upon its front glittered the royalarms of England. 

Reared as he had been in the plainness of Scottish simplicity, thewealth and lavish display in the English manor houses where he hadrested during his journey from Edinburgh delighted and enchanted himin the highest degree. Vain, fond of indolent diversions, and prodigalin expenditures, he at once surrounded himself with the choicestproducts of the weavers, decorators and artisans of the Continent. 

In a chamber of this palace, on the second afternoon following themeeting of Catesby with Rookwood and Anne Vaux at the hiding place ofthe Jesuit Superior, an interesting conversation took place betweenthe Queen's lady-in-waiting, and one Robert Carr, a Scotchman, andfavorite of the King. After James ascended the throne of England hemeted out ample measure to his countrymen, likening himself to Joseph, who, being raised to power, forgot not his brethren. That this Robertwas of goodly parts, being fair of feature and elegant of limb, rendered him the more acceptable to his royal master; forsooth, therewere few of the nobles in the two kingdoms but knew certain talesconcerning the favorites of the King, young gallants of the periodwhose presence at Court added nothing to the honor of their sovereign. 

Robert Carr, a person of deep perception and gifted with certainScottish wit, pandered much to the follies and pride of hisbenefactor. He was also a man easily excited by beauty of face andgrace of manner, and had fallen desperately in love with MistressVaux, to his own undoing and the jealousy of the Queen's women. It wasthis state of affairs which the Jesuit had reckoned upon, when, incasting about for an expedient to check the fiery zeal of Sir RobertCatesby, he had suggested that one dwelt at Court who might learn whatwas in the mind of the King concerning certain policies. Beinginstructed by Garnet what course to pursue, Anne Vaux, on her returnto Whitehall, made haste to summon into her presence the King'sfavorite. Nor did Carr need a second bidding to betake himself to thelady's chamber. 

"Sweet Anne!" cried he, dropping upon his knee before themaid-in-waiting, "thou hast saved me from despair. Knowest thou 'tiseight and forty hours since thy gentle presence hath made earth to mea paradise?"

"Nay, good Robert!" replied she, demurely casting down her eyes, yetpermitting the gallant to retain her hand, "Speak not of despair; thouwho hast so high a place with our royal master. Amid thy pleasures theabsence of Anne Vaux can be but of small moment unto thee. "

Carr covered her hand with kisses. 

"Whitehall without thee is a barren wilderness, " cried he, "for theewould I barter faith, honor----"

Anne raised her head until her eyes met his. 

"Nay, sweet gentleman!" said she, softly, "'tis not faith, nor honor Iwould ask of thee; 'tis----"

"Speak!" murmured Carr, overcome by his emotions. "Speak, that I mayserve thee. "

"'Tis but little, " replied the lady, "yet would it please me much, andthou art able to converse freely with his Majesty. "

"The King!" cried Carr, alarmed that the name of James should enterinto his love making. "What wouldst thou with the King?"

Anne withdrew her hand. "Ah!" cried she, pushing him gently from her, "'tis so little, yet thou wouldst withhold thy courtesy. There becertain other gentlemen, my lord of----"

"Say not so, " stammered the courtier, "be it the crown itself. " Hiscompanion laughed merrily. "The crown!" cried she, "what would AnneVaux with the crown of England? 'Tis but a simple question, a wordwith his Majesty, that I may gain a wager. "

"Speak then, " said Carr, "that I may hasten to obey thee. "

"Thou knowest, " replied Anne, "there be much serious speculation, manytheories formed throughout the kingdom concerning the mind of the Kingregarding the penalties against the Catholics. Some there be who hold'tis the King's wish that the ordinances, or edicts of Elizabeth, beremoved utterly, while others affirm that James doth join withParliament for their maintenance. Having been drawn into an argumentwith certain of my mistress' ladies, a wager was made, that ere themorrow the truth of the matter should to me be disclosed. "

The look on her companion's face changed to consternation. 

"Ask the King concerning so grave a matter?" cried he. 

"A truce, Master Carr!" replied Anne, sharply, "it needeth smallperception to discern thy temper. Thou dost ask much, yet givestlittle. "

The King's favorite was nonplussed. To question James concerningaffairs of State was no light matter, yet, in opposition to so doingstood the anger and the loss of Mistress Vaux. This thought, which hecould not endure, caused him to hesitate. 

"Be it so!" said the lady, coldly, "Thou hast refused so small afavor, therefore will I summon one who, methinks, hath moreconsideration. " And she moved as though to touch the bell upon thetable. 

The action, indicating his dismissal, removed all scruples which hadarisen in the mind of the courtier, and kneeling before her he pledgedhimself to at once seek an audience with the King, who, having passedthe afternoon in hunting, was resting in his own apartments. 

Pleased that her object had been so easily gained, Anne permitted theenraptured Scotchman to clasp her in his arms, then he rushed from thechamber hoping after a short interview with the King to return to her. 

As Carr had intimated, James, wearied by several hours in the saddle, for it was his pleasure to hunt or horseback in Waltham forest and inother royal chases, had retired early to his bed chamber. He had eatenheartily, for despite his ungainly person the First of the Stuarts wasa famous trenchman. Freed from his quilted clothes and mellow withstrong wine, he admitted to his presence two gentlemen who sought anaudience. 

The noblemen who were thus occupants of the royal chamber stood instrong contrast to the Sovereign of England. Their large andgracefully proportioned figures were made most conspicuous by the bighead, rickety legs and dwarfed body of their royal master, while thecalm dignity which enveloped them set forth vividly the drivelingspeech, and coarseness of him whom the death of the last of the Tudorshad placed upon the throne. 

"Ah!" cried James, perceiving the gentlemen upon the threshold, "welcome most worthy Monteagle and Viscount Effingston! Hast thou thenan answer to my argument?"

The lips of the younger nobleman trembled nervously as he sought torepress a smile, but his companion advanced quickly to the royal couchupon which the King had stretched himself. 

"The wisdom of your Majesty is indeed unanswerable, " said he bendingto kiss the hand held out to him. 

James chuckled loudly. 

"'Tis my pleasure to discourse on certain matters, " replied he, "and mygood lord of Monteagle, being well versed in the learning of theperiod, doth turn with relish to a well written document. It was, methinks, concerning the 'True Law of Free Monarchy. '"

"Nay, your Majesty, " replied Monteagle, drawing a paper from hisdoublet, "'twas thy most learned discourse on tobacco. "

The Viscount Effingston, who stood well behind his father, turnedaside his face, that the King might not note the smile upon it. James, however, having plunged into one of his pedantic hobbies, had smallperception of aught aside from the discourse in hand. 

"'Twas, in truth!" cried he, "a most learned writing, bearing uponthe use of an ill-savored weed. What thinkest thou, my lord?"

"'Tis indeed most ably written, " replied Monteagle, "and being muchimpressed with the wisdom so plainly set forth, I did read it aloud toseveral of my gentlemen. "

"And what said they, good Monteagle?"

"That your Majesty had, in truth, touched the heart of the matter, "replied the peer. "Even Sir Raleigh, upon the reading of it, would, methinks, turn from the habit. "

"That would he, " said the King, gruffly, for the name of Raleigh wasin no wise pleasing to him. 

"A most excellent document!" broke in the Viscount, "my worthy fatherwas about to beg your Majesty for further discourse on so grave amatter. "

Monteagle cast a look of keen reproach at his son; 'twas not for thepleasure of discussing the "Counterblast To Tobacco, " the famousliterary production of the King, that he had sought this audience. James, however, was highly pleased at the young man's words. 

"Good Monteagle!" cried he, "thy son is a worthy gentleman, andmethinks our reign will see him a most favored peer. Instruct him, that he fall not into certain habits as to bells and candlesticks, norgive ear too seriously to the teachings of them who would embroil ourkingdom. "

At this moment Robert Carr, hastening to the royal bed chamber, inorder to obey the wishes of Mistress Vaux, entered the ante-room andhearing his master in converse with others, paused noiselessly behindthe curtains. 

"Faith!" continued James, receiving no reply from Monteagle or hisson, "it is rumored that thou also hath dealt somewhat closely withthese disturbers of the kingdom. "

Alarmed at the character of the conversation assumed by the King, thenobleman would have checked it by well timed flattery, but James wasnot to be turned from his purpose. 

"It doth much annoy me, " prated he, "that certain reports are spreadabroad making it seem my desire, against the wishes of our goodParliament, to remit certain fines----"

Carr, whose ear was pressed close against the curtain, rubbed hishands together in exultation that there was like to be, withoutdiscomfort to himself, something ready for the ear of the Queen'swaiting woman. 

"And divers statutes against those who would bring back the Jesuits, "continued James, plucking impatiently the fringe of his couch cover. 

"Your Majesty is, in truth, the spring of justice, " said Monteagle, soberly, "and it ill befits thy subjects, be they Puritans orCatholics, to----"

A wave of passion swept across the royal face. 

"Puritans and Catholics!" cried he, sitting upright. "Zounds! Whatthen? Am I not king? Wherefore should I tolerate in this good kingdomthose who teach treason in their churches?"

Monteagle's position was truly equivocal. The son of a Protestantpeer, through his marriage, early in life, with the daughter of aCatholic, he became involved in certain Papistic plots, and listenedto the teachings of the missionary priests. James had made him therecipient of many court favors, for the maintenance of which, Monteagle, balancing the advantages of his position against the losswhich might accrue to him were he to boldly adhere to his religion, had become lukewarm in the faith of the Catholics, and this hadbrought him into disrepute with his old associates. 

"'Tis a grave matter that there be any in England whose faith takesprecedence of their loyalty, " said he, the King ceasing his haranguethrough lack of breath. 

"Thou sayest rightly!" cried he, "nor will I abate one jot or tittlefrom that I have set before me. As it is atheism and blasphemy todispute what is in God's power, so it is presumption and high contemptfor a subject to question a king's will; nor should a king abate eventhe breadth of a hair from that right which his prerogative gives untohim. "

The Viscount Effingston pulled his father's sleeve. 

"We had best retire, " he whispered, "the wine hath mounted to the headof yonder fool, and, perchance, he may see in thee a Raleigh or aCobham. "

The King was, indeed, weary of the interview. The exertion of theafternoon, the heated room, the wine and the ill temper into which hehad fallen, deprived him of his usual wit, leaving him only boorishand irritable. 

"My lord Monteagle, " said he, peevishly, "it pleases me that youretire, for a certain languor of the body rendereth our discourseunprofitable. "

The words of his son had startled the nobleman from his usualcomposure, and receiving the King's permission to retire, he madehaste to kiss the royal hand, well pleased that the audience wasended, although certain favors which he desired to ask of his Majestyremained unspoken. 

"Faith!" said the favorite, as the two peers passed his hiding place, "I have, indeed, had a most fortunate escape, for James is in poorcondition to discuss even with Robert Carr, that which sent himhither. "

Then, as the King's valets crowded into the chamber, summoned by thefurious ringing of their master's bell, he looked for an instant uponthe half-drunken monarch, dropped the curtain and hastened down thecorridor that he might relate to Mistress Vaux that which he hadoverheard. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE VISCOUNT EFFINGSTON. 

Rare and luxurious were the furnishings of a room in which we findLord Monteagle and his son. Wealth and artistic hands had combined tobring all its sumptuousness into a rich and harmonious completeness. The elder, who had just entered, walked with troubled brow toward thewindow. The other, tall and strong, with features of fine proportionand graceful contour, clad in a style denoting the aristocrat and manof fashion, sat at a desk engaged in writing. For a time the onlysound breaking the silence was the sharp scratching of a goosequillas it traveled over the paper. At last, having finished, and observingthe other for the first time, he remarked, as he folded the sheet:

"My lord, hast thou so soon returned from the audience? Did aughttranspire to ruffle thy temper? Or, mayhap, " he continued with alaugh, "His Majesty did read thee an essay on How to Take SnuffWithout a Nose, or some other learned subject dear to his heart. "

"Not so, my son, " Monteagle replied with gravity; "but I have heardagain rumors which set but ill upon my mind. 'Tis the talk of theante-chamber, and the first words which did greet my ear on enteringcame from that silly, chattering coxcomb, Robert Carr, who, advancing, enquired in a low voice, but which at the same time filled the room, whether my daughter-in-law would be the new lady in waiting upon theQueen. These many days the talk that hath been afoot connects thy namewith one whose ancestral lineage will not bear scrutiny, and, fortruth, much this gossip hath troubled me. "

Effingston reddened, and turned in his chair toward the speaker, suppressing an angry retort which sprang to his lips: "My lord, dostthou believe all that Dame Rumor whispereth?"

"No, verily, being too long connected with affairs of State, but, inmy anxiety, I made inquiry, and much it paineth me to find these samereports seem to have foundation. I do not demand but beg anexplanation from thy lips, to hear if that be true which reached myear. "

"Your lordship knows, " returned the other with an inclination of thehead, "that thy request is to me a command; therefore, I tell theefrankly that what thou heard this morning is to an extent wellfounded. Thou canst be sparing of thy fears, " he continued as theother was about to interrupt, "and ever be assured, respect for LordMonteagle, my father, and pride, the inheritance of the noble born, will deter Viscount Effingston from actions which his conscience mightperchance approve. I will not disgrace thee or thy name, " heconcluded, with a touch of haughtiness in his tone. 

"I have not yet accused thee of bringing discredit upon our house, anddevoutly hope my fears are but absurd, born of that doubt whichseemeth to be resident in the minds of men one for the other. By mytroth, we can seldom point with certainty in these days to one of ourfellow creatures, and say truly, I know him to be good and free fromtreason. It would, I swear, " he continued, with a sigh, "littlesurprise me, to hear the Archbishop of Canterbury had been seen tohold his crosier for a pretty wench to leap across, that he might thebetter gaze upon her ankles. Thou art a man grown; therefore, I canbut counsel. But this I know: love for one below thy station, thoughshe have all purity and moral excellence, seldom ends in marriage; ifby chance it doth bring thee to the altar, repentance with its dismaltrain follows far too often, even ere the echo of the chimes hath diedaway. "

"Thy counsel did, and ever shall stand high in my regard, " repliedEffingston. "But thy fears are groundless. I do admit that she to whomthou dost refer is not of highest birth; still, her ancestors helpedto keep the crown upon a king's head, and methinks, deserve morecredit for acting thus without reward than though they bore the titleof a Duke or Prince. As thou hast asked, and with perfect justice, Iwill tell the story from its beginning. Thou might misjudge if thymind held its present suspicion, and it would lead to setting aside ofconfidences which, it hath been my happiness to feel, did ever existbetween us. "

"Thou sayest well, " replied the other, with affection. "I have alwayslooked upon thee as my sword arm, to carry out by thy young strengththe deeds which time hath left me ill conditioned to perform. "

"Thou remembrest, " began Effingston, "the night three months since, Irode to Chartsey Manor, with intent to sound Lord Cecil regarding hisattitude on issues then before Parliament. It was midnight ere I left, and well on toward the stroke of two when I arrived in the outskirtsof London. Proceeding slowly on my way, drinking in deeply thebeauties of the night, suddenly there sounded upon my startled ear awoman's scream, which quickly ceased, as if she who uttered it hadbeen rudely seized about the throat. I reined up my horse andlistened. Distinctly could I hear, not two hundred paces from me, thesound of scuffling feet and an outburst of drunken laughter, ending ina round of fiendish cursing. 'Hold, ' cried I, 'wait until I can loosemy sword and lend thee aid. ' Saying which, I hastily dismounted, throwing the bridle of my horse over a bush hard by, and hurried inthe direction of the tumult. On turning a corner, there came upon mysight a scene which made my blood boil and lent new speed to my legs. Two ruffians had set upon a woman, and while one held back her chinand shoulders, the other was endeavoring to imprint a kiss upon theupturned face, the rogue being hindered in his purpose by the girl, who, holding in her hand a small dagger, lunged right boldly with it. 'Avaunt ye, knaves, ' I cried, running, sword in hand. Before, however, I could reach the struggling group she had struck the man in front ofher, causing him for a moment to desist, when, with a sudden accessionof strength, breaking away from the one who held her, she set her backagainst the wall, confronting the two assailants with the look andspirit of a tigress. The men, now for the first time perceiving me, having been too deep in liquor and their employment to hear my shout, took to their heels, but not until I had spoiled the sword arm of oneand left my mark upon the other. Turning toward the girl who stood bythe wall, I discovered the momentary spirit had left her, for againshe was the weak woman and would have fallen fainting to the ground, had I not given her support. She soon revived, and having received herthanks, prettily given, I inquired how it fell out she had been sorudely set upon; in reply to which she told me of her grandam beingtaken ill, and in need of a leech, and how she had gone forth to fetchhim, and was attacked, when returning from her errand. On begging thatshe would permit me to see her safely home, my offer was acceptedwith thanks. When arrived at our destination she asked if I would noton the next day return, that she might more fully express hergratitude. Thou knowest, my father, how love grows in the heart. Atfirst my feeling was one of curiosity; but it soon changed toadmiration for the fair girl, and, at last it ripened into love, as Ilearned to know the soul which rested in her beautiful form. This ismy simple story, and I have naught more to tell. "

"My son, " replied the other, who had listened with eager attention tothe narrative, "there's naught, so far, that I condemn, and I applaudthee for thy chivalry, but I had higher hopes for thee than a marriagewith a commoner. Thou hast, however, omitted to tell me her name, " headded, in a voice betokening anxiety. 

"Her name is Elinor Fawkes, the daughter of an officer, English bybirth, now serving in the army of Spain. "

"Elinor Fawkes, " repeated the father, with a start and looking towardEffingston. "'Tis as I feared. Is this, then, the creature on whomthou wouldst bestow thy name? Have thine ears been out of sorts, neverto have heard the rumor which connects her in none too savory a mannerwith the adventurer Sir Thomas Winter? It is common talk, for I willspeak plainly to thee, that she is his mistress. "

"In thy throat thou liest, " the other cried, leaping to his feet, white to the lips with sudden passion; "recall those words, or by St. Paul, I'll strike thee to my feet, forgetting the loins which begatme! She hath fully told me of, and set aside, the lie which couplethher with Sir Thomas Winter. "

"Aye, she hath explained to thee readily enough, I trow, " exclaimedthe other, roused to anger. "Lives there the woman who could not makeexcuses if but a moment were granted her? I shall not chide thee forthy hasty words; time will bring them to thy memory with remorse. Butlisten unto reason, and----"

"I'll hear no more, " Effingston cried, in a voice full of passion. 

"Stop, " said Monteagle, in a commanding voice, holding up his hand, "thou shalt hear! Doth the leech withhold the lance when a patientgroans? No, my son; I'll introduce thee to plain facts, and try tocure, even though my duty be a hard one. "

Effingston sank into his chair, his temper cooled to a degree by hisfather's manner, and listened with compressed lips and knitted brow towhat followed. 

"As I have already told thee, " began Lord Monteagle, "I suspected thatit was she who had ensnared thee. I set inquiries afoot, and injustice to the girl, with a twofold object--first, to establish herinnocence, if she were true; secondly, to save thy name and happiness, if she proved guilty. But, " he went on, advancing toward his son andlaying a hand upon his shoulder, "the second object of my quest wasthe one fulfilled. The proof came by the hand of God. Yesternight, leaving the house of Lord Brighton, where I had dined, and wishing toreturn with all speed, I requested the bearers of my chair to take theshortest way home. Gazing out of the window, I noted that we were inthe locality of the house wherein she (who had for the past few daysmost unhappily filled my mind) was reported to reside, and desiring tolook upon the spot, commanded my men to rest there. Suddenly Idescried a man muffled in a cloak, proceeding up the street, who, ashe approached, proved to my astonishment to be none other than SirThomas Winter. Quickly he ascended the steps and knocked at the houseopposite the place where I chanced to be. After a moment the dooropened and the figure of a girl stood on the threshold. Beholding her, Winter exclaimed: 'A good evening to thee, Mistress Fawkes, ' the restof the greeting being lost to me as the door closed. I was astonishedat having so quickly set before me the two whose names had been in mymind. After a few moments the door again opened suddenly, this time Ithink by accident, revealing the figure of him who had just entered, still clad in his cloak, clasping in his arms and kissing the womanwho admitted him. I could not hear what passed, for at the time thewind blew high, drowning their voices. But I had seen enough, andcried to the bearers to take up the chair and proceed. That, my son, is what I have seen, not learned by mere hearsay. Would that I couldhave spared thee the telling, but 'tis for thy welfare I have narratedit. "

Effingston, during the narrative, had remained motionless, hisfeatures drawn and colorless. Fully realizing that his father wouldnot have maliciously manufactured this evidence against the girl, hismind could conceive no extenuating circumstance to clear it away. Thatshe had deceived him was not beyond the consent of reason. He was aman of the world and of the time, well aware of possible duplicity, and further, that the age offered numerous examples of women with onehand on the cradle while the other guided an axe toward some headwhich for a cause must fall, or fanatically sacrificing all, evenhonor, to gain the coveted support of a courtier in some undertaking. The scandal which had been breathed about her, to do him justice, hedid not give ear to, believing implicitly the story told by Elinor, explaining her associations with Winter. But was not this man achampion of the cause which he had helped to defeat? Was it impossiblethat she had played her lover as a dupe to further a scheme? This wasentirely plausible, but he could not bring his mind to believe it. Andwhy? For the same old, old reason which has cost men their lives andhonor, kings their crowns--because he loved her. When his father hadfinished, he said, in a quiet voice, extending his hand:

"I thank thee; thy motive is of the best; and I most humbly beg thypardon for my hasty words, prompted by anger only. "

"What course dost thou now intend to pursue?" inquired Monteagleuneasily, for the quiet, passionless manner of his son made himapprehensive. 

"What thou or any other man would do--give the woman a chance todefend herself. "

"Aye, I thought as much, " the other replied with an air of angeredimpatience. "She will, with her arms about thy neck, explain fastenough, and to thy satisfaction. "

"Dost thou forget, " the son inquired, "that I am a Monteagle, and haveimplanted in me that pride and temper which can illy condone, even inthose they love, deceit and falsity? Have no fears for me, " he added, advancing with a determined step toward the door. 

"Where art thou going, my son?" asked the other in an alarmed tone. 

"To face this woman with the accusations thou hast just utteredagainst her. "

"Stay; go not in thine anger, for some mischief may be wrought. Waituntil thy temper cools; see her not again, but write. "

"I am not a killer of unarmed adversaries, " retorted Effingston;"again, I repeat, have no fear for me. "

"Well, well; God's will be done; it may be for the best, " the othersaid with a sigh, turning away his head. 

The son hesitated for a moment; then quickly kneeling before hisfather and taking his hand, exclaimed: "I humbly ask thee to forget myhot words, and again I crave thy pardon for the same. They were spokenin wrath, on hearing the image of my love fall crashing to the earth. "

Then springing to his feet, before Monteagle had opportunity to reply, he hurriedly left the room. 

Once on the street, Effingston strode without pause in the directionof Elinor's house. What a difference in his feelings now, contrastedwith what they had been when he had traversed that way before. He hadoutlined his course of action, --to simply tell her what his father hadseen, and demand an explanation. If she were guilty, even his love andher woman's wit could not, he thought, hide the fact from his eyes;and if it all were true and he had been duped, what then?

He prayed that pride would come to his aid and steel his nerves, andprompt his tongue to speak. With these thoughts in his mind, andlooking neither to the right nor left, he hurried on his way to herdwelling. How changed each familiar object seemed to him. As heknocked at the door and listened, a footstep sounded in the hall. Ah, how many times had his heart leaped at the same sound. The dooropened, and she who was all the world to him stood on thethreshold;--she whom he must soon accuse of hideous duplicity. Howvery beautiful she looked. On seeing Effingston, Elinor uttered a low, startled cry. He noted the action, for love, when coupled withsuspicion (and the two can live together) is not blind, but terriblyvigilant. 

"Elinor, I must speak with thee, and alone, " he exclaimed. 

The girl regarded him with a half frightened look. She had been allday engaged in a bitter fight with self, and knew not how to tell himthey must part forever. Now he stood before her. She realized to someextent what the agony of the separation which must soon come would beto her, and knowing full well the depth of his love, measured hissufferings by her own. Wild thoughts had passed through her mind ofdoing something which would turn that love to hate, and she felt shecould better bear that than know he lived and suffered. But now as shelooked upon him both will and fortitude fast weakened. Again she wasthe simple loving woman. 

"Wilt thou enter?" she asked in a constrained voice, scarce knowingwhat she said. 

He crossed the threshold and passed into the little room which heldfor him the most tender recollections. 

"Elinor, I have come----" he began; then, gazing at the beautiful facebefore him, he advanced toward her with outstretched arms--allresolution gone; "O my darling, I have wronged thee--thou canst tell, I know, and explain all. "

She shrank from his touch, fearing lest her little firmness shouldtake flight. 

"Why dost thou shrink from me?" cried he, swept by a sudden fear whichmade his lips dry and his cheeks burn. "O my God, can it then be thoudost know the purport of my question?"

"I know not what thou meanest, " she stammered, astonished at hiswords, even amidst her sufferings; "if thou hast aught to ask, praysay on. "

He watched the trembling figure for a moment, interpreting her emotionas detected guilt, and the demon of jealousy, which, strange to say, is often led forth by love, burst out, prompting him to speak wordswhich after uttering, he would have given worlds to unsay. 

"Then, know, " he cried, "that I have discovered thy methods, and thatI have been duped and dragged on to further some hellish scheme ofthine and his. I've swallowed thy pretty words and thought them sweet. Now I know all; 'twas but last night thou wert in his arms, andrightly thou belongest there; the report is true, thou art none otherthan the mistress of Sir Thomas Winter. Aye, tremble in thy guilt, thou Magdalene; thou canst not deny it. "

As he uttered the accusation, she raised her arm as if to ward offsome sudden blow, then let it fall at her side, standing speechless, benumbed and horrified at the terrible words he had hurled at her. Thedisgrace and the infamy of them she did not at once grasp, butgradually her mind began to comprehend all that he had said. The roomswam about her, and she caught at a chair for support, vainly tryingto make some reply. Again he repeated: "Thou canst not deny it; guiltis written in thine every action. "

As she aroused herself there flashed upon her mind the act of twoshort days ago, when she had fallen upon her knees and prayed God thatthis man before her might be spared the cruel pangs of that separationwhich must inevitably come. And had not that prayer been answered? Hadnot he just uttered accusations, which, if not denied, would end hislove for her--now and forever? Believing her to be vile and infamous, pride and manhood would soon come to his aid. But what did theacknowledgment mean to her? His utter contempt; he would alwaysbelieve that he had been her dupe--hers, who would gladly give hervery life for him. But what mattered it? Thinking this to be true, hewill soon, manlike, dismiss her from his thoughts, and give his loveto another, who, pray God, may make his life all happiness andgladness. She turned her eyes toward the wall on which hung the imageof Christ nailed to a cross. Could she not crucify herself, for thislove of hers? Slowly the resolution formed. Again he repeated: "Canstthou deny it?" And she answered: "Thou sayest it!"

"It is true?" he cried. 

Again she answered: "Thou sayest it. "

"O great God, " he exclaimed, putting his hands to his head, "can thisbe real? Can this be the end of all our hopes? Is the world so bad andwoman so low?"

She uttered not a word, but stood motionless. 

"Vile deceiver!" he cried, turning to her as he staggered toward thedoor, "if it be happiness to know that thine infamy hath ruined mylife, know it, then, and be glad. "

She heard the portal close. He had gone from her forever. Then thefull and terrible import of that which she had acknowledged herself tobe overwhelmed her, and with a cry she fell unconscious to the floor. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

IN THE GARDEN OF THE GENTLEMAN-PENSIONER. 

Upon reaching the open air, Effingston paused for a moment that theshock occasioned by the admission of Elinor might in some degree passfrom him. He had gone to her prepared for tears, protests and womanlyanger, and despite the suspicion which had seized his heart, it hadnot been in his nature to believe the words of his father would sosoon find confirmation. He felt, indeed, as one about to lay his headupon the block, --that he must cry out, yet his heart was clutched asby a giant hand, benumbing all his faculties so that pain and lethargyparalyzed his will. 

As he groped half blindly for the railing which flanked the narrowsteps, the figure of a man confronted him, who, as he perceived theViscount Effingston standing upon the threshold of Mistress Fawkes'dwelling, drew back quickly, his face dark with anger. 'Twas SirThomas Winter. 

In that instant all the calmness of the young nobleman returned tohim. The sight of Winter, in whom he saw the bitter enemy of hishouse, and whom he now hated for a double reason, turned his pain intocontempt for her who had so illy used him. Pride came to his aid, andhe would have passed the other haughtily; but it was in no wise thepurpose of Sir Thomas that the meeting should have so peaceful anending. 

Rumor had reached him that the Viscount Effingston was too frequent avisitor at the house of one for whom he fostered, if not love, atleast a fierce passion, and the presence of his rival, at the verydoor of the humble dwelling, aroused him to fury. With an angry frowndistorting his features he advanced toward the spot where stood theViscount, who, perceiving he had to deal with one in whom temper hadovercome prudence, laid his hand upon the hilt of his rapier. It wasnot the purpose of Winter, however, to come to blows thus openly withone who was known to be in favor with the King. He therefore contentedhimself with obstructing the way in so insolent a manner, and withsuch malice in his eyes, that it sent the blood to the cheeks ofEffingston, and he returned the gaze unflinchingly, saying quietly:

"Come, if Sir Thomas Winter hath in mind aught to say to me, let it bedone quickly, that I may go upon my way. " At the same time he moved asthough to pass. 

"Nay! My Lord of Effingston!" replied Winter turning his eyes upon thehand which rested on the jeweled sword hilt. "Fear not that in astreet of London I would draw sword against thee, traitor though thouart. Thy royal master----"

"Traitor!" cried Effingston, the red of his cheeks changing to thepaleness of anger. "Traitor, sayest thou, Sir Winter?"

"Aye!" replied Winter. "All London knoweth. "

The Viscount controlled himself by an effort. 

"Thy purpose is clear to me, " said he coldly, "thou wouldst force aquarrel; so be it. Traitor, sayest thou? Perchance, thy mirror hathshown one to thee so frequently that the word is ever on thy tongue. "

"As to mirrors, " replied Winter, "those in the King's chamber haverevealed to thee their ways, then. Thinkest thou nothing is knownconcerning the purpose of my Lord Monteagle in instructing thee as toPuritanism. "

Effingston bit his lip. "'Tis befitting thy manhood, Sir Winter, havingbribed a dastardly servant to give false testimony of what waslistened to from behind a curtain, that thou shouldst insult one whosecloak buckle thou art unworthy to loosen. 'Twas a fair representationof thy character, a good showing of thy principles. If it be in thymind to prate further, get thee into the market place, where, mountedupon an ass, thou mayst draw around thee certain of the populace whosewont it is to gather for such discourse. "

This was spoken with a mock gallantry which the Viscount could wellassume, and deprived the other for a moment of utterance. Overcome byanger, and surprised that the insults heaped upon the Viscount weremet with contempt, he forgot himself so far as to bring the name ofMistress Fawkes into the quarrel. 

"Thou dost but jest with me, " he cried, taking a step nearer hisrival; "perchance, having come from the arms of thy mistress, thy witsare so dulled that----"

The reply of Effingston was sudden and unexpected. Resolved to avoidan open quarrel with one whom he considered beneath him, he had soughtto return words, only, to the other's insults, but the reference toone whom he had held most dear, fired his brain. Scarce had Winteruttered the base accusation when the young nobleman snatched off hisheavy gauntlet and with it struck him across the face; so great wasthe force of the blow that the other staggered, lost his footing onthe slippery street, and fell at the feet of his enemy. 

Having thus given expression to his anger, Effingston calmly replacedthe glove, and with hand upon hilt, awaited the arising of hiscompanion. 

Stunned for the moment by so sturdy a buffet, Winter remainedmotionless for a little space, but soon regained his feet, and, withgarments soiled and earth stained, with blood upon his face, drew hissword and made as though he would thrust the Viscount through. 

Effingston drew also, and more serious results would have followed hadnot one in the crowd which had gathered to watch the ending of thequarrel, cried that the King's soldiers were approaching. 

Sobered by the danger which threatened him, for the arrest of aCatholic with sword in hand was like to bring evil consequence, Wintermade haste to sheathe his blade, which example the Viscount quicklyfollowed. However, it was a false alarm, and raised only for thepleasure of seeing two fine gentlemen thrown into confusion. Thecrowd, catching the spirit of the varlet, straightway raised a tumult, showering the nobles with sundry jibes and insulting remarks, considering it rare sport to have at their mercy those of high degree. 

The commotion turned for a moment the mind of Winter from his firstgrievance, and he bethought himself of the sorry figure he must showwith dress awry, face soiled and blood-stained, and, worse than all, insulted dignity. Therefore he made haste to leave a company sounappreciative, and destitute of sympathy. To Effingston, the thoughtthat against his better judgment he had been drawn into a publicbrawl, caused his face to glow with passion, and his desire to leavethe locality was not less than that of the other. The lookers on, finding their sport ended, did not follow, but took themselves toother ways, and the two gentlemen, who had hurried blindly, withoutattention or knowledge as to direction, soon found themselves in aquiet street somewhat remote from the neighborhood which had witnessedSir Thomas Winter's discomfiture. 

"My Lord of Effingston!" cried he, as he gathered together hisdisturbed senses, noting the presence of his companion. "Thou hastgrievously insulted me, therefore----"

"When thou wilt!" the Viscount interrupted. "My sword is ever at thyservice. "

"'Tis well!" said Winter, drawing his cloak about him; "one hour fromnow in the garden of Thomas Percy, whom, methinks, is known to thee. Yet if thou dost fear----"

Effingston shrugged his shoulders. "In Sir Percy's garden, " repeatedhe haughtily, and turning upon his heel left Sir Thomas in theroadway. 

The garden of the official dwelling occupied by theGentleman-Pensioner consisted of perhaps a quarter of an acre ofsward, fringed by a sorry row of leafless trees, and surrounded by ahigh wall, beyond the top of which shone the metal gables of half ascore of straight-backed dwellings. 'Twas no uncommon thing for theparties to a dispute to settle the same by force of arms, but theycarried on the affair with all secrecy, lest the report thereof reachthe ears of those in authority, as it was contrary to the King's wishthat a private quarrel should end in the killing of an Englishgentleman. Such being the fact, those gardens which adjoined thehouses of certain nobles, and by reason of their privacy precluded thepresence of prying eyes, were oft turned into duelling grounds, andthe square of sward flanking the dwelling of Thomas Percy was welladapted for a contest in which the evenness of the ground, as well asothers matters, was of much consequence to the combatants. 

To this garden the Viscount Effingston, accompanied by Sir FrancisTillinghurst and another, who bore beneath his cloak a case ofinstruments, presented himself at the hour appointed for his meetingwith Sir Thomas Winter. Having gained admittance by a gate set in thewall, the three found awaiting them, Sir Thomas, my Lord of Rookwood, the Gentleman-Pensioner and a surgeon summoned by the latter to lookto the welfare of the challenger. 

As the gate clicked behind the Viscount and his companions, LordRookwood, who was in close converse with the others at the furtherside of the garden, advanced haughtily, bowing to Sir Francis, whom heperceived represented the interests of the young nobleman. The two, withdrawing from the others, made haste to arrange the preliminariesof the meeting. 

"Thy promptness is most commendable, " said Rookwood, casting a lookupward at the cold gray of the sky, "and 'twere well that ourprincipals do quickly that which has brought them hither. Methinks astorm is brewing, and a fall of snow might end the matter illy. "

A few white flakes upon his doublet bore witness to the correctness ofhis prophecy. Sir Francis bowed assent. 

"Thou canst perceive, " continued Rookwood, pointing to the strip ofsward, "that good Thomas Percy has had a care to have no element offairness lacking. Hast any objection to the spot chosen?"

"I can see no catch or fault in it, " replied Tillinghurst, casting hiseyes over the ground, "the light is good, and there seemeth to be noadvantage in position. "

"'Tis well!" said Rookwood, "wilt measure swords that the contest bein all fairness?"

Tillinghurst complied, and the principals, casting aside theircloaks, stepped forward to the strip of sward prepared for them. 

The demeanor of the Viscount was serious; he well knew that in SirThomas Winter he had no unskilled swordsman, but a man of muchexperience, with wrist of steel, and a trick of fence acquired by longpractice in foreign service. The face of Winter was darkened by afrown in which was blended a shadow of anxiety. The Lord of Monteaglewas a famous swordsman, and it might well be that the son had learnedfrom a good master. 

"Gentlemen, are you ready?" cried Rookwood drawing his rapier, as alsodid Sir Francis, that they might interfere should need arise. 

The principals saluted, stood at guard, and awaited the signal; whenit was given, their blades crossed with a clash which rang out sharpand clear on the cold winter air. 

The hate and jealousy with which Winter regarded his young rival wereintensified by the tingling blow dealt him an hour before, and fromwhich he still suffered, --and as he was confident beyond doubt of hisskill as a swordsman, he attacked with a fury which pressed hisyounger adversary back toward the wall, and those witnessing thecontest thought to see Effingston speedily thrust through. 

The Viscount was, however, too adroit a fencer to yield readily tosuch a fate. Careful, at first, only to defend himself, he met eachthrust and pass with a parry which deepened the frown on Winter'sbrow, and having retreated to the edge of the duelling ground, hethere held his position despite the fierceness of the onslaught. 

Suddenly Winter's blade darted serpent-like beneath the guard of hisadversary. A red stain appeared on Effingston's shoulder, and theseconds interposed their swords. 

The Viscount waved them back, as also he did the surgeon, who hastenedto perform his office. 

"'Tis a touch only, " said he hoarsely, breathing heavily, "on guard, sir, that we may finish quickly. "

And now their positions were reversed. Instead of acting on thedefensive, Effingston in turn became the assailant, regaining his lostground, and forcing Sir Thomas back, step by step. 

Maddened at thus losing vantage ground Winter's calmness failed him;he made a sudden thrust forward, and it being parried, lost hisfooting, the blade of his rapier ringing against the hilt of the otherere he could regain guard. 

A cry arose to the lips of Rookwood, for he thought the other wouldshow no mercy; but before he could utter a sound, Effingston, with aquick turn of the wrist, sent the opposing sword ringing to theground, leaving his enemy weaponless before him. 

For an instant Winter recoiled as if in fear of the thrust which hewas now powerless to avert. A scornful smile passed over the palefeatures of the victor. 

"'Tis thus I would deal with such as thou, " said he haughtily, and, pushing his sword into its scabbard, he took up Sir Thomas' rapier, and breaking it across his knee, tossed the pieces contemptuouslyaside. 

"Come!" said he as his second threw a cloak about him. "Our mattersare ended. " Then saluting with grave courtesy the four Catholicgentlemen, he left the garden, followed by his companions. 

CHAPTER IX. 

GARNET AND THE KING. 

Toward the decline of the tenth day following the meeting ofViscount Effingston and Sir Thomas Winter in the garden of theGentleman-Pensioner, four men might have been seen riding through oneof the stretches of woodland used by the King as a hunting ground andknown as the forest of Waltham. Although light still lingered, a gloomwas gathering over the countryside, and within the precincts of theforest the first shades of evening warned the horsemen that ere manyhours the cheerless twilight which prevailed in England at that periodof the year, would find them outside the gates of London. 

Of the four, three were gentlemen; the other seemed to be more asoldier than a cavalier. The trappings of his horse were less richthan those of his companions, the texture of his cloak was of poorerquality, and he bestrode the saddle after the manner of one inured torough riding, when business took precedence of pleasure, a custom notcommonly followed among the gentry of the kingdom. His companions wereso muffled in their cloaks as to hide both dress and features. Eachwore at his side a long rapier, and from their holsters appeared themetal-marked butts of pistols, ready to hand should sudden dangerassail them. 

After passing through the outskirts of the forest bordering on thenorth, the horses were urged into a gallop, the sharp ring of theirhoofs on the frost-hardened road echoing dully among the trees oneither side. As they entered the thickest part of the wood, one, riding in the rear, turned to his companion. 

"Thou seest, " said he, pointing with his whip toward the forest on theleft, "that our lord, the King, hath reserved for his own pleasure agoodly bit of woodland within which none may venture with hounds orhunting horns. "

"Such a rumor hath come to me, " replied the other, "also that anyventuring within the royal chase will be dealt with most vigorously. "

His companion laughed harshly. "Of that, " said he, "I was myself awitness, for 'twas but ten days back when one Charles Burrows, a mostworthy commoner, and a staunch Catholic, was brought before themagistrates for having shot a hare which crossed his path. "

"I'faith!" muttered the other, "'Tis then the purpose of the King tocarry his oppression even beyond our altars. It seemeth to me a mostfitting thing, Sir Thomas, that the kingdom be rid of such a tyrant. "

"Bravely spoken, Master Fawkes, " replied Winter, "and thou wilt beready should occasion arise, to protest against our wrongs! But whatnow is the trouble with worthy Catesby, and his Reverence?"

The exclamation was called forth by the action of the two horsemen whowere leading the little cavalcade. They had pulled up their steeds andappeared to be listening intently, though to the ears of theircompanions, who had dropped some ten score paces behind, no sound savethe moaning of the wind could be heard. But as they also drew rein, and the click of their horses' hoofs ceased, the faint echo of a hornwas borne through the wintry air. 

Drawing together, the four strained their ears to note the directionwhence it came; across the face of one rider stole a shadow ofanxiety. Sir Thomas Winter noted it. 

"I warrant, " said he, "that none is abroad who will in any mannertrouble us. 'Tis some hunting party returning from the chase, andriding toward the highway. What thinkest thou, good Catesby?"

"Thou mayst have conjectured aright, " replied Catesby; "yet, 'twouldbe a wise precaution to remain silent, if any seeking to know ourbusiness did beset us. Mayhap even a purple cloak and doublet wouldscarce hide from them that the Superior of the----"

Garnet, for the fourth horseman was the leader of the English Jesuits, raised his head proudly. 

"A truce, gentlemen!" said he, "'Tis not meet that, having venturedforth disguised, I play the coward at the simple sounding of a horn. Let us ride forward as befitteth four peaceable English gentlemen. TheKing's highway is free to all who choose to pass thereon, even thoughthe forest bordering it be reserved for those who have gained thesmile of James. "

"And, " said Fawkes, "'tis not the wont of a hunting party to playhighwaymen, the less so that the King, perchance, rideth with it. "

"The King!" cried Winter and Catesby, in a breath. 

"Aye!" replied Fawkes bluntly. "Have ye not told me that the royalwood of Waltham is reserved for the hunting of his Majesty?"

His companions exchanged quick glances. "Then, we had best hideourselves, " cried Winter, "James hath a prying disposition. "

"Methinks, " said Garnet, raising his hand to enforce silence, "thatbut one horn sounded. If, as thou sayest, it be a hunting party, thewood would echo with a score of blasts. Shall we run from one man?"

Fawkes loosened his sword in its scabbard. "I have this, " said he, "toback our presence in the forest, and are ye weaponless?"

The bluff words of the soldier of fortune put to shame the fears ofthe two noblemen, yet they hesitated. Should they be suspected, itwould not be a light matter to evade certain questions which might beasked, and if taken to London captives, the disguise of the Jesuitwould be penetrated. 

Meanwhile the sound of the horn grew louder, and while wavering intheir decision, a voice, faint and indistinct, was heard shouting afaroff. Fawkes listened attentively. 

"'Tis a cry for succor, " said he suddenly, "someone hath lost his wayand seeks the highroad. "

"Then, " said Garnet calmly, "we will remain, for he is approaching. "

Perhaps five minutes had elapsed when the blast of the horn sounded asif in their very ears; and from the forest, only a dozen rods beyondthem, dashed a man mounted on a bay horse. Having reached the openroad he pulled up his beast and looked helplessly in an oppositedirection from the four riders. Suddenly Winter started and changedcolor, his face turning from red to white, and back to red again. 

"'Tis the King!" he whispered hoarsely, clutching the arm of Catesby, who sat beside him. 

It was, in truth, James of England, unattended, his dress awry andtorn by thorns and brambles, with bloodless lips and terror-strickencountenance, who sat helplessly in the saddle in the presence of hisbitterest enemies. 

As this realization dawned on Catesby's mind, he uttered anexclamation, and reached for the pistol which protruded from hisholster. 

"'Tis the judgment of God, " he muttered; "to-night England will bewithout a king. "

The firm grasp of the Jesuit upon his arm checked his murderouspurpose. 

"Stop!" whispered Garnet sternly, "wouldst ruin the cause which thouhast sworn to befriend? Draw your cloaks about your faces and leavethe King to me. "

Ere they could recover from their astonishment he had ridden forwardto the spot where James sat bewildered, noting not the presence ofthose behind him. 

At the sound of hoofs he turned quickly, laying a trembling hand uponthe hilt of a hunting knife which hung at his belt. The demeanor ofthe approaching stranger gave him courage. Garnet did not remove fromhis head the plumed hat, as was befitting the presence of royalty, butthere was in his face a kindliness which proclaimed his errand apeaceful one. 

"Good sir, " said he, speaking in French, "thy manner shows somebewilderment, and, may be, the blasts of the horn which reached mewere tokens of it. "

James trembled violently, for at heart he was an arrant coward, andthe being met by a stranger, alone, close to nightfall and in theforest, filled him with the greatest terror. The words of the othersomewhat reassured him. 

"Brave gentleman!" cried he, still grasping the handle of the knife, "thou art a man of honor, and by thy speech a Frenchman, thereforethou wilt aid me. "

"Thou hast spoken truly, " replied the Jesuit. "Hast lost thy way?"

Relieved of apprehension for his personal safety, the King gave ventto his ill temper. 

"That I have, " cried he, striking his knee angrily, "and in the King'sown forest. There are those who shall pay dearly, who shall rue thishour, " he continued passionately. "'Twas a plot to humiliate me. "

"Good sir, " replied Garnet, noting that James proposed to conceal hisidentity. "Of whom speakest thou?"

"Of the rogues who accompanied me hither, " stormed the son of Mary, Queen of Scots; "I followed a stag, and having outridden them theyhave thus deserted me; 'tis a thing beyond human comprehension. "

"And this, " thought Garnet, "this is the King of England, who haspulled down our altars, driven out our religion and banished us. "Despite all efforts his brow darkened. 

But the ill temper of James subsided as quickly as it had arisen, leaving him for the time only a man who sought succor, and so madeknown his condition. 

It chanced that riding in the forest, taking the lead of those whoaccompanied him, he followed the tracks of a stag and became separatedfrom his companions; whereupon, being confused and terrified, he soonlost his way. 

Garnet listened patiently, and made no sign that could lead the Kingto suspect that his personality was known, then pointed to hiscompanions, who were sitting motionless upon their horses, withmuffled faces, awaiting the result of the Jesuit's unexpected action. 

"Good sir, " said he, "it will give me pleasure to conduct thee to theoutskirts of the forest, after which, the road being plain, thou cansteasily find thy way to the gates of London. Yonder servants of minewill ride behind us. "

James gladly accepted the other's offer, nor did it please him thatthe supposed Frenchman should learn he was assisting the sovereign ofEngland. Pride and distrust governed him. Pride, lest a foreignershould bear away the tale of a king's discomfiture; distrust, lest, holding in his power so important a personage, the stranger might takeadvantage thereof for his own benefit. But it was not in the mind ofGarnet to reveal his knowledge; so, side by side they rode insilence--the Jesuit and the King--for the space of an hour, until, upon reaching the vicinity of London, whose lights twinkled in thedistance, they separated, James galloping madly on, his companionawaiting the approach of Winter, Fawkes and Catesby. 

There was much amazement and some anger in the minds of the twonoblemen, that the priest had acted in so unaccountable a manner. Desirous of learning his motive for befriending one whom he professedto hate, they questioned him upon the subject. To all, Garnet repliedbriefly, bidding them wait a more befitting time, as it was hispurpose, on reaching London to attend a meeting at the house of SirThomas Percy. Therefore they rode on in silence, the great clock inthe tower of St. Paul's chiming the hour of eight as they passed intothe city. 

At the corner of the street leading to the Gentleman-Pensioner's doora horseman confronted them whom they recognized as Percy himself. Hehad been waiting for them in an angle of the wall to say that certainofficials having gathered at his house for the discussion of publicbusiness it would be unsafe to proceed thither. 

"Then is the night lost, " said Catesby impatiently, "for, althoughthe Holy Father be provided with a hiding place within the city, andwill, perchance, remain among us for the space of two days, muchweighty business besides long disputations, require his attention. Thou shouldst have seen to it, Master Percy, that thy house was freefrom the hirelings of the King. " Percy would have replied in anger, but Sir Thomas Winter interrupted:

"Friend Guido, thou hast a dwelling in a quiet portion of the town, where perchance we might sit together for the discussion of suchthings as now concern us. "

Fawkes, who had scarcely spoken since meeting with the King in theforest, acquiesced in this proposition, although the thought of hisdaughter, the smallness of his house, and the nature of the conferencecaused some conflict in his mind. Yet, having resolved to serve thecause which he held so dear, his scruples speedily vanished, the moreso that 'twas Sir Thomas Winter who requested the favor. 

This matter being so quickly decided, Fawkes became the guide of theparty, and turning into a narrow street which ended in a lane runningbehind his house, straightway brought his companions to theirdestination. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE FORGING OF THE THUNDERBOLT. 

Upon reaching the gate which opened from the garden of his dwellinginto the lane, Fawkes signaled his four companions to secure theirhorses and follow him. Having complied, he led them through thegarden, unlocked the door and bade them enter. 

"Faith!" whispered Catesby, pressing Garnet's elbow, "friend Guidodoth seem over cautious in leading us about so secretly. "

"Not so!" replied the Jesuit, "'tis a gift born of much experience ina country where the careless rattle of a scabbard may lead to mostserious results. But it is in my mind as in thine, that being peacefulgentlemen who have rendered some slight service to his Majesty theKing, we might act with more boldness; yet caution is a jewel which, once attained, should not be lightly cast aside, and Master Fawkesdoth cling to it. "

The voice of the soldier of fortune bidding them come on precluded thereply which arose to Catesby's lips, and crossing a narrow hall thehorsemen entered a room whose cheerful brightness contrastedpleasantly with the darkness of the passage into which they had beenushered. 

After assisting his guests to remove their mantles, Fawkes placedbefore them cups and wine, added a fresh fagot to the fire, and turnedto Sir Thomas Winter. 

"My lord!" said he, "I pray thee attend to the comfort of thesegentlemen till I return. 'Tis my custom to inspect the house beforeretiring, lest any be astir, and to-night I deem it doubly prudent. "

"And who hast thou in the house, good Guido?" asked Garnet blandly;"no one, I trust, who will interrupt our conversation?"

Fawkes laughed softly. "None are within, " replied he, "except my oldmother, who, were she to stand beside yon fireplace, would scarce notethe meaning of our discourse; and my daughter, a loyal Catholic, yet, being a maid, and gifted with a woman's curiosity, it might be herpleasure to seek the meaning of so rare a gathering beneath my roof. "

Garnet nodded approvingly. That he had come to London in disguise hadfilled him with some apprehension, and the cautiousness of his hostquieted his fears. 

"Thy cavalier is indeed a man of much promise, " said he to Winter, after the soldier left the room, "and I warrant that none will ventureto disturb us. Hast sounded him thoroughly upon religious matters?"

"Thou shalt see, " replied Sir Thomas. "If the zeal of each Catholic inEngland reached but to the half of his loyalty to the holy cause, there would scarce be need that a father of the Church don plumed hatand rapier. "

Fawkes, in the meantime, had betaken himself to the upper floor of thehouse, where was situate his daughter's chamber. There was no fear inhis mind that his aged mother would note the arrival of his guests, for 'twas her custom to retire at sundown by reason of infirmities;but about his daughter there arose some apprehension. He felt surethat no words which, by chance, might reach her ear would be carriedfurther, yet, 'twas against his wish that anything should add to herdisquietude. 

Coming to the door of her room, which was directly above thatoccupied by the four friends, he listened intently, and hearing nosound within, softly turned the knob and peered into the apartment. The light of the full moon shining through the window, revealed to himthe interior bathed in a mellow radiance. No sound greeted his earsave the crackling of the fagots in the huge fireplace below, and thefaint murmur of the voices of his guests. He paused, --a hundredconflicting emotions filling his breast. The sight of the curtainedbed standing in an angle of the wall drew his attention. He pushed thedoor yet further open, and holding his scabbard that its rattle mightnot disturb the sleeper, slipped across the threshold and approachingnoiselessly, parted the hangings and looked down. 

The maid was lying with her face turned full upon him, her cheekresting upon one white, rounded arm. In the weird moonlight her palebeauty startled him, and almost unconsciously, he stretched forth hishand to touch her. His fingers, resting lightly upon the counterpane, came in contact with something cold; it caused a shudder to passthrough him, a nameless terror, and for an instant he forgot the fourmen waiting in the room below. Bending lower, his eyes rested upon theobject which had so startled him. 'Twas a silver crucifix which hadfallen from the sleeper's fingers, and lay upon her breast. At thesight great emotion and agitation swept through his heart, roughsoldier though he was; for the moment he was well nigh overpowered. The silence of the chamber, the white face so near his own, and theemblem of his faith placed unconsciously upon the breast of thebeloved one who lay there, filled him with superstitious awe. 'Twasthus the dead slept, ere they were carried to the grave. 

A movement of the white arm broke the influence of the spell. The girlturned uneasily, a few incoherent words escaping her lips. Fawkes drewback noiselessly. "She sleeps!" he muttered, and passing from theroom, closed the door softly, and descended to those who awaited himbelow. 

Scarce had his footsteps ceased to echo on the stairs, when Elinorawoke. Though wrapped in deep slumber, that inexplicable mystery, aconsciousness that she was not alone, startled her. Sitting upright, her eyes fell upon an object lying at the side of the bed; a doe-skingauntlet which she recognized as belonging to her father. 

Surprised that he should thus have entered her chamber, a feeling ofalarm possessed her. The crackling of the fire in the room below, thetell-tale glove upon the floor, and the faint murmur which she feltassured must be the voices of men engaged in earnest conversation, aroused her apprehension as well as her curiosity, and it seemed noill thing that she should discover the meaning of so unusual anoccurrence, for their dwelling was situated in a quiet part of Londonand 'twas not the wont of any to visit it at such an hour. Then, thethought came to her that perhaps certain companions of her father, rough soldiers like himself, had come together to partake of hishospitality. Calmed for the moment, she would have sought sleep again, had not a sentence, uttered with clear distinctness, reached her ear. 

"Ah, good Master Fawkes! Thou hast found all quiet, and thy householdsleeping soundly?"

The intonation of the question startled her. Why should her fatherseek to learn whether she slept or not? Surely in the meeting of a fewboon companions over a flask of wine, such precaution was notnecessary. Not delaying for further meditation, she slipped out ofbed, and crept noiselessly to that side of the room against whicharose the huge brick chimney above the fireplace below. Through thespace between the flooring and the masonry, a glare of light came upto her as well as the voices of those beneath. Crouching against thewarm bricks she listened, unmindful of the cold and her equivocalposition. 

The assurance which Fawkes gave to his companions that the house wasquiet, and none would interrupt them, removed the reserve which eachhad hitherto felt. Time was indeed precious, for Garnet desired toreturn ere daybreak to his hiding place, lest any should perceivethat, lying beneath the doublet of a cavalier, was the insignia of achurchman, a discovery upon which great misfortune might follow. 'Twaswith scant preliminaries, therefore, that Catesby, ever foremost inzeal, boldness and assurance, addressed his companions. 

"Methinks, " said he, turning to the Jesuit, "that in thy wisdom thoumust have perceived something to our benefit in saving James ofScotland from my bullet. Yet, to me it did appear that the Lord gavehim into our power. "

A shadow of impatience darkened the priest's brow, but in an instanthis features resumed their accustomed mildness. 

"My son!" he replied, "it would have been an ill thing to slay ourmaster after the manner of paid assassins. 'Twas in thy heart to killthe King; what then?"

Catesby bit his lip. That there lay some weighty reason in the mind ofthe Superior for his unexpected friendliness to James, hecomprehended, but his spirit, unused to restraint, and darkened byadversity, illy brooked opposition. 

"What then?" replied he, in answer to Garnet's question. "'Twould haverid the kingdom of a tyrant, and our faith of its bitterest enemy. "

The Jesuit smiled sadly. "As thou hast spoken, " said he, "the Kingwould be dead, and trouble us no more, but what of the Parliament? Isit then James alone who distresses us?"

"Methinks, " broke in Percy, "that our worthy father hath put it to uswisely. Did the Scot lose his life, another would arise in his place, and the suspicions of the authorities awakened, there would be nopeace in England for a Catholic. "

"'Tis even so, " said Garnet; "the killing of one man, though he be theKing, can scarce better our situation. What then, thou wouldst ask, shall be done to lighten our condition? We must lull into a feeling ofsecurity those who press hard upon us, that, when the sky seemsclearest the bolt may fall and the stroke be the more scathing. BraveGuido here will tell thee that in that country where plots arethickest, 'tis false security which most often leads the victim todestruction. It may be, and doubtless is in the King's mind, and alsoin that of his Parliament, that the quietness of the Catholics for solong a time indicates continued subserviency, and not a gathering offorces to strike against their tyranny. In certain lands there aredesert places where travelers have perished because the storm king hidhis face until the hour for overwhelming destruction sounded. Thinkestthou that had the murmur of his coming reached their ears they wouldnot have taken warning and sought a place of safety? 'Tis so inEngland. Had the King been shot, the news would have stirred thekingdom from Berwick unto Dover. What then of our plans and secretplottings, when each man who worshiped at our altars appeared atraitor? It hath always been my firm conviction and unvarying counselthat any blow must be far reaching; not James alone, but othersbesides must fall, to give us any vantage ground. "

A moment of silence followed Garnet's words. Percy first replied:"'Tis a storm of extreme fury and sudden change of wind whichovercomes a vessel. Who then will bring about the hurricane whichshall wreck the ship of State?"

During the Jesuit's address Sir Thomas Winter sat immovable, his eyesfixed upon the fire and his brow contracted in deep thought. As Percyfinished he turned suddenly to Fawkes. 

"Friend Guido, " said he smoothly, "thou art a man of many resources;perchance in Spain thou hast learned something a suggestion of whichwill now aid us. Thou perceiveth our condition. "

Fawkes turned his gaze moodily upon the embers. Half unconsciously hisfingers had been toying with a powder flask lying on the table beforehim, and a small portion of its contents had fallen into his palm. Hetossed the black grains into the fire, where they flashed for aninstant, sending a pungent ball of white smoke into the room. 'Twas asthough the craftiness of Satan had shown to him the embryo of thehurricane. 

"In Spain, " replied he grimly, "there are many ways to overthrow atyrant; in England, as the Holy Father saith, 'twill need morecaution. Once upon a time the captain of a fighting vessel, fearing tofall into the hands of those who would destroy his ship and put thecrew to torture, himself applied the fire to the magazine, it beingfilled with powder, and ten score men perished in a twinkling. "

His companions were startled, for the meaning of his words was clearto them. As by a flash of light a way seemed to open which, iffollowed, would lead to the fulfillment of their purpose. Catesbyleaned forward. 

"But if it fail, friend Guido?" he whispered hoarsely. "What then?"

"Then!" cried Fawkes, turning to the Jesuit, "I will kill theKing, --if need be even without help! For what then would remain tous?"

Garnet replied nothing. The words of the soldier of fortune startledhim. Instantly he saw the meaning of the plan which Fawkes hadformed;--a plan which, if once entered upon, would be carried out byhim with all the zeal of a fanatic. The fiendishness of it, while itroused his admiration of the man's ingenuity, made him shudder; for'twas not thus men struck in England. 

"Come!" said he rising, "'tis close upon midnight, and the ride waswearisome. Thy words have taken strong hold upon me, good Guido, and Ineed a season of prayer and meditation to gain better understanding inthis matter. My cloak, therefore, that I may leave thee. "

Obedient to his wishes the others hastened their preparations fordeparture, and in silence Fawkes led them through the passage to thedoor by which they had entered his dwelling. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 

On hearing the sounds which indicated the departure of those in theroom beneath, Elinor arose from her cramped position and noiselesslycrept to the window. In the moonlit garden she could distinguish thefigures of four men going in the direction of the lane at the back ofthe house. One she recognized as Sir Thomas Winter; the others wereunknown to her. But in a moment she heard her father's voice as heuttered a warning to the horsemen: "Mind the ditch, Lord Percy! SirCatesby, keep well to the left!"

Then Fawkes closed the door, and she could hear his movements as hewent about extinguishing the lights. His footsteps sounded on thestairs. If by chance he came into the chamber and found her awake andup, what then? He would readily surmise how much it had been possiblefor her to hear. Once in his anger, she remembered, he had valued herlife but cheaply;--within two short hours Elinor had learned to lookupon her father with terror, almost with dread; those words of hisrang in her ears: "I will kill the King if need be, even withouthelp!"

The footsteps approached her room. What was she to do? It was too lateto gain the bed and feign slumber, for the creaking of a loose boardwould certainly attract his attention. She hoped the door was secured, but had no recollection of locking it. At last he had gained thepassage; now he was before her room and placed his hand upon thelatch; it was not locked, for the door opened. The man peered inthrough the crevice and gazed in her direction. How her heartthrobbed, shaking her whole body, and sending the blood through herveins with a sound which she feared he would hear. She thanked Godthat the moon shone directly through the window and her position waswell out of its rays. He evidently did not see the girl, for after ascrutiny of the bed, which stood well in the shadow, and a muttered, "Safe, safe enough; all safe, " he closed the door and passed down thecorridor. 

Elinor for a moment stood listening to the retreating footsteps; thensank into a chair, exhausted by the strain of the last few moments, and tried to gather her scattered thoughts. With woman's intuition shequickly grasped the enormity of all she had overheard, comprehendingthat high treason and wholesale murder had been planned; but thehardest truth for her to realize was that her father, whom she hadalways trusted and looked upon as the embodiment of honor anduprightness, was the foremost to suggest and even offer to carry outthe fearful deed. "I will kill the King, if need be, even withouthelp:" the awful sentence seemed to be repeated over and over again bythe rustling night wind. Her first impulse was to save him from theconsequences of such an act. Were not the names of Moore and Essexfamiliar to her? And what was their fate for even a suspected treason?Her hysterical imagination placed vividly before her the head of thefather she loved, lying bleeding in that patch of moonlight on thefloor. 

But what could she do in her weakness? Go to her father and beseechhim that, for love of her, he would take no part in this terriblecrime? That would accomplish nothing, for she knew him to be one whomnaught could turn from a deed he once undertook and looked upon asjustified. And now the most passionate fanaticism had seizedhim--fanaticism of the most dangerous kind, born of wrongs done to hisfaith. To whom could she turn for aid? She knew but one who, perhaps, had some influence over Fawkes' stubborn mind. However, was not thisvery one as deep in the treason as her father? Winter! The name causeda shudder, bringing to mind that terrible morning ten days past. Winter! She must then seek help from him; her hopes clung only to astraw; nevertheless she would go and beg, if need be, even upon bendedknee, that he would persuade her father to relinquish this terriblepurpose. Yes, now was the time to act, for she feared in herindefinite terror that the morrow might be too late. 

Quickly seizing a cloak and throwing it about her, Elinor crept towardthe door and listened. The place was dark, and quiet as the grave. Swiftly she descended the stairs, then groped her way to the door andtried to withdraw the bolts. Would they never yield to her efforts? Atlast they slipped with a sound which echoed through the house. Thegirl paused, expecting to hear her father's voice, but the silence wasunbroken. In a moment she was out in the moonlit street. How quiet andserene everything appeared. How in contrast to the tumult of herfeelings. As she stood, the great bell of St. Paul's boomingly tolledout the hour--twelve o'clock. 

"He must, " she whispered to herself, "he must be home ere now, butwhat will he think of my coming to him at this time?" She tried tothrust this thought aside, and to gain repose of mind by walking moreswiftly. 

Arrived before Winter's residence, and trying the wicket at theentrance she found it yielded to her touch. The girl beheld a streamof light coming from between the curtains of a window on the secondfloor. The master of the house was then within. Quickly Elinor passedup the walk and stood before the door. As she raised the knocker herresolution almost gave way. What was she about to tell Winter. Thatshe, a girl, was possessed of this terrible secret!

Suddenly came to her memory the dreadful words connecting this man'sname with hers. She thought of the few times when they had beentogether; how eager he had seemed to be near her; with what atrembling clasp he had carried her fingers to his lips and imprintedupon them kisses which burned themselves into the very flesh. And nowshe was about to face him in the dead of night--and alone! Her fingersrelaxed their hold. "Courage, courage, " she murmured; and quicklylaying hold of the knocker again, she smote thrice upon the panel andlistened. There soon fell upon her ear the sound of some one coming inanswer to her summons. The door opened and a sleepy servant stoodregarding her with an air of no small astonishment. 

"Is thy master at home?" she inquired, in a voice which, in spite ofher efforts, trembled. 

"That he is, young miss, but what wouldst thou with him at this latehour? He hath but just returned from a journey, and is sore weary. Canst thou not wait until the morning?"

"I must see him at once; 'tis on the most urgent business. "

The hour, coupled with the fairness of the visitor, seemed to fill theservant with surprise, for he stood a moment looking at her, thenreplied:

"If thou wilt step inside, mistress, I'll inform Sir Winter that therebe someone who wishes to hold converse with him, and perchance, " headded with a meaning smile, "he'll not be so badly put out after all. What name shall I bear to him? It may be one, " he continuedsignificantly, "which would soon draw any bolt Sir Thomas might haveshot. "

"No name is necessary, " she answered, looking at the man and pointingwith her finger. "I seek thy master and come not to parley with hismenial. Go! Say a lady would speak with him. "

The servant read in the girl's eye a look which seemed to brookneither delay nor familiarity, for he turned and went along thepassage and up the stairway. 

As Elinor waited, the utter hopelessness of her mission broke fullupon her, but it was now too late to draw back from her hasty act; thevoice of Winter could be heard exclaiming with a laugh:

"What, a lady to see me at this hour? Troth, I am fatigued, but neverso weary that I cannot look upon a fair face. Admit her. "

A door opened and closed; the servant reappeared and beckoned her. "Sir Thomas will see thee; 'tis the third portal from the landing, " hesaid, pointing up the stairs leading to the floor above. 

As Elinor followed the directions given, she endeavored to frame somefitting sentence with which to begin her interview, but her agitationwas too great; she could think of none. Arriving before the door shetapped with her fingers upon the panel. 

"Enter, my pretty one, " cried a voice. "Thou hast already beenannounced. "

She stepped within the chamber. Winter sat with his back toward theentrance facing a table upon which stood a flagon of wine. As the doorclosed he turned, and to her horror Elinor saw that he was flushedwith strong drink. 

"What? Elinor?" exclaimed Winter, in astonishment, rising from thechair with such haste that it was overturned and fell with a clatterto the floor. "I crave thy pardon, Mistress Fawkes, " he continued witha bow, mastering his surprise. "Thy sudden entrance caused my tongueto utter the name that ever dwells within my heart. Pray tell me towhat happy circumstance am I indebted for the honor of this visit? Iwould know the same that I may render homage to it. "

Elinor stood speechless, filled with abhorrence and dread. All herbravery could scarce keep her from flying out of the room. Sheendeavored to fix her mind on the purpose which had brought her here, and so find courage. At last desperation gave her voice and she beganhurriedly:

"I know that thou and others were at my father's house this night. Iwas not asleep as ye all supposed, and have come to beg, to beseech, pray, that my father be released from this terrible treason which hathbeen talked of. Thou wert the only one to whom I could turn for aid--Itrust to thy goodness, to thy noble nature;--for the love of God tellme not that I come in vain. See--see, " she cried hysterically, herself control gone and falling upon her knees. "I kneel before thee tocrave this boon. "

At her first words Winter started as if a pike had been thrust intohis side. On his face was written blank astonishment, whichexpression, as she proceeded, gave way to one of abject fear. It wouldhave been difficult to say which of the two was the more agitated. Hedashed a hand to his brow as if to drive away the fumes of liquorwhich had mounted to his brain; looked at the kneeling figure; gazedon the tapers burning upon the table; and tried to form some words ofreply. At last, with an effort at composure, and endeavoring to forcea laugh past his dry lips, he said:

"What silly tale is this thou utterest. I have not been----"

"Nay, " the girl broke in wildly, "'tis useless for thee to say so. Myeyes and ears did not deceive me. Would to heaven they had and it wereonly some mad dream which fills my brain. "

"Then--then--thou hast played the spy, " hissed Winter, in sudden angerborn of drink and fear. "Dost know to what thou hast listened? Hasaught of it passed thy lips? Speak!" he cried furiously, seizing thegirl's arm and glaring at her in drunken rage. "Nay; then thou didstnot, and 'tis well; for if thy lips had breathed one word these handsof mine would choke from out thy body its sweet breath. " Herelinquished his hold, and turning toward the table hurriedly draineda cup of wine. 

Elinor, spellbound with terror at his outburst of fury, stood rootedto the spot. She realized the madness of her words, seeing plainlythat the man's condition was one which made both prayers andentreaties useless. Again he filled a cup and dashed it off. What hisstate would be in a few moments she dared not think. His back wastoward her; now was her chance to escape! Slowly the girl edged herway toward the entrance. At last she reached it; her hand gropedbehind the curtain for the knob; it turned, but to her horror, shediscovered the door was securely fastened. 

A laugh greeted her from the table. "What, surely, MistressFawkes--nay, by my troth, Mistress Fawkes it shall be no more, for'tis too cold a title; therefore, Pretty Elinor--wouldst leave me, andthy errand but half done? I swear thy words did at first affright; butsee, this good wine, " he continued, advancing toward her unsteadily, "hath taught me wisdom, and this I know, our secret once hid in thyfair breast, could ne'er be driven forth, even if thou wished, as 'tistoo warm a resting place for it to relinquish. Why dost thou shrinkfrom me? Dost know, " he added, a fierce gleam coming into his eyes, "Iwould try to pluck great Saturn from the heavens if thou wished togird about thy waist his rings? Aye, and would give my soul for a kissfrom thy warm lips, thinking my soul well sold. Elinor!" he exclaimed, in a husky voice, "hast thou never read my passion for thee? 'Tiswritten----"

"Then!" cried the girl, "think upon that love and for God's sake letme hence. "

"What? Is my love so beggarly a thing that the only answer deigned toits utterance is a scurvy request to get beyond its hearing? Nay, Ihave looked upon thy frozen greetings long enough, and they, I tellthee, have poorly matched my ardor. Listen! Thou dost wish to go?" hequestioned, placing himself before the door and holding to thecurtains for support. "Well, I will ask but cheap recompense for theloss of thy fair company. 'Tis a kiss from thy red lips; what sayestthou?"

"And thou dost call thyself a gentleman!" exclaimed Elinor looking athim with scorn, her fear in a measure giving place to indignation atthe insolent and shameless words. "Let me depart, I say--nay, Icommand thee. "

"Ha! ha! Thou, I think, art carrying thyself loftily. 'Command!'" herepeated with a laugh. "Nay, marry! Here thou wilt stay until themthinkest thy going worth the price. And while thou dost meditate uponit I will drink to thy health. " He staggered toward the table andrefilled the cup. 

Elinor glanced about the room seeking some possible avenue of escape. Her eyes rested upon the portieres in front of the window; she movedtoward them, but as her dress rustled Winter turned at the sound. 

"Aye, walk the room, my pretty one; thou wilt find thy cage wellbarred. But enough of this, " he continued, approaching her, "we do butdelay. Thou didst ask thy father's release from his compact. Well, heshall be set free, but thou must recompense--not in coin, not in someheavy muttered penance, but by thy beauty. " He caught the girl in hisarms and whispered in her ear. Then the indignities which had beenheaped upon her gave strength to her arm. No sooner had his drunkentongue uttered the sentence than she smote with all her might the facegazing into hers. The blow for a moment staggered the man and hereleased his hold; in that instant of freedom Elinor sprang toward thewindow, dashing the curtains aside. 

"Stand back!" she cried, as he made a step toward her, his face purplewith rage, "and for thy wicked words ask forgiveness from heaven ereit blast thee. Where is thy religion, where thy manhood, thou beast?Aye, beast is too good a term for such as thee, for they respect thesex--even the stag will not goad the doe. I fear thee not; move fromwhere thou art and by the God who heard thy wicked words I'll cry thyinfamy and treason in a voice which shall 'rouse all London, and wakethe sleepy headsman to grind the axe. Now, I fear thee not!"

For a moment Winter paused, looking at the girl. Then his quick wit, no longer dulled by the wine which had blinded him to the consequencesof the words he had uttered, came to his aid, and he replied:

"What? And lay thy father's head, as well as mine, upon the block?"

The curtain dropped from the girl's hand; she staggered, catching itfor support; then quickly recovered herself and with determinationflashing from her eyes exclaimed: "Nay, then, I will not cry thytreason; my tongue is mute. But stir one foot and I leap from off thebalcony, gladly embracing the cold stones beneath, rather than suffera touch from thy guilty hands. "

"Come! Come!" said Winter, baffled by her words and spirit; "I'll notharm thee. I was but heated by the wine. Thou mayst depart in peace. "

"I put no faith in thy words, " said Elinor, still standing by thecasement, "for thou hast taught me how far one who calls himself a manmay be trusted. Go thou and unbar the door, " pointing imperiously withher hand; "then take thyself to the further end of the chamber andthere stand. "

Winter hesitated, but even his dulled faculties recognized thesuperiority of the girl's position, and he sullenly complied with herrequest. Not until he had retired to the extreme end of the room didElinor leave her place. Then, she quickly fled into the corridor. Winter remained for a moment where he was and, mad with drunken ragewhen the closing of the outer door announced the escape of his victim, exclaimed: "Aye, thou hast outwitted me for a moment; but thy victoryis not for long. I shall hold the laurel and also thee beforedaybreak. " Then, staggering into the hall, he shouted: "Richard!Richard!"

A man appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Come! Stir thy scurvylegs; didst see the woman who this moment left me? Follow, and when ata place thou deemest fit, throw this heavy mantle about her, and bringher to me. She will struggle, I trow; but thou knowest the remedy. Tarry not; go swiftly, or she will escape. "

At last Elinor was in the street, and, dazed for a moment by hersudden release from the peril in which she had just stood, with aterrified look over her shoulder--half fearing to see a staggeringfigure in pursuit, she fled in the direction of her home. But whatform is this which glides from out the gate, and catching sight of thegirl hurries in the direction she has taken? Like some evil phantom itmoves, noiselessly and swiftly, ever keeping well in the shadows. 

CHAPTER XII. 

WHAT THE MOON SAW. 

But what of Fawkes? Did any gloomy thoughts disturb his rest? Did theshadow of the axe or gibbet fall athwart his dreams? If not, why turnshe so uneasily in his slumber and at last awakes?

"Sleep sets ill upon me, " he mutters, drawing a hand across his brow. In a moment he arose, hastily dressed himself, walked toward thewindow, opened it and gazed upon the night. Does some subtle bond ofsympathy exist between him and the girl who is now in peril ofdeath--or worse? It would seem so, for standing beside the casement, he exclaims:

"Am I a sickly child, or puny infant, that I awake, frightened bysilly visions which war with sleep, and murder it ere 'tis fairlyborn? Troth!" he continued, with knitted brows, "'twas strange myfancy painted such a picture. "

He stood for a moment wrapped in thought, then added, shaking his headas though unable to thrust aside the memories which troubled him:

"By the blessed Virgin! a most vivid dream. How she held her arms outto me, yet her lips were mute. Aye, and the eyes--the dumb horrorwritten in them, as if beholding a specter which blanched the face andfettered the limbs. I believe, " he added with a sudden resolution, "'tis a woman's trick, but I would fain see her face ere I restagain. "

He stepped out into the corridor, proceeded in the direction of hisdaughter's room, and softly entering, advanced toward the bed. 

"Not here!" exclaimed he, beholding the empty couch. "Nay, thou canstnot frighten me, " he continued with a forced laugh, gazing about. "Come, show thyself; 'twas a merry jest, but let's have it done. "

He paused; still no answer to his summons. "Elinor, " he again called, a shadow of anxiety in his tone. "What means it that she is nowherewithin hearing?"

He quickly retraced his steps, passed down the stairs and tried thehall door. It was unbarred, and opened to his touch. 

"By heaven!" he exclaimed, "I could swear I shot those bolts beforegoing to rest, and now they are drawn. "

He stood anxiously looking out upon the star-lit night. His eyeswandered to the doorstep, and discerned upon its covering of frost theimprint of a small foot. 

He stooped to examine the impression and hurriedly arose. "She hasindeed left the house, " he cried. "What can have taken the maiden outof doors at this hour of the night?--some secret tryst? Nay, I do butjest; she's not the kind to go a-courting after the moon is up. Mayhap, " he continued, meditating a moment, "a neighbor was strickenill and they have summoned Elinor to lend her gentle aid. Marry, "added he in a relieved tone, on finding a plausible excuse for hisdaughter's absence, "I do recollect Master Carew's woman was soonexpected to add one more trouble to her husband's household. It ismost likely that she went there. 'Tis a dark way to travel, and I willgive her a surprise. While thinking a lonely walk lies before her, Elinor will find an old but devoted cavalier to keep her company. First, " added he with a laugh, "I'll fetch my blade; for 'twould illbefit a gallant in quest of beauty to go unarmed. "

So saying, he disappeared, and presently returned attired in a heavymantle, and a long rapier girded to his side. 

The moon was high, and its light, which whitened the gables of thehouses, diffused a bright glimmer below, sufficient to enable Fawkesto proceed quickly upon his way. Frost had set in, and a keen windblew; so he was glad to hurry on at a goodly pace. As the streets werequite deserted at this early hour of the morning, or haunted only bythose whose business--whether for good or evil--forced them out ofdoors, he met no one and saw no lights. The man's mind was evidentlyfilled with pleasant thoughts, for ever and anon a smile would flitacross his face, as though he dwelt upon the surprised look of hisdaughter when she would behold him. These agreeable anticipations, which had taken the place for the moment of the sterner purposes whichhad of late engrossed him, were only thrust out by something whichhappened just then and brought him abruptly to himself. 

It was the appearance of a woman, who suddenly issued from an alley ascore of yards in front of him, and with a quick glance over hershoulder, disappeared down another turn in the road. The movements ofthis apparition caused Fawkes to pause, when suddenly a second figure, this time a man, came into view and hurried in the direction taken bythe girl. "By my hilt, " whispered Fawkes, peering cautiously out ofthe shadow in which he stood, "that rogue had a most suspicious airabout him; an honest man walks with more noise; but, by my soul! ifthere is not a third!"

The object which had called forth the last remark was still anotherfigure, which came from the same quarter, and proceeded in thedirection taken by the first two. "What queer business is now afoot?"Fawkes exclaimed, gazing after the retreating forms. "Mayhap ere longa trusty blade will not be amiss. I can well afford a few moments tosee that all be fair. "

So saying, and loosening his sword in its scabbard to make sure it wasfree if suddenly needed, he swiftly passed in the direction taken bythe retreating figures. A few steps brought him to the head of thestreet down which the three had disappeared. By the light of the moonFawkes distinctly saw the shadowy forms, and halting where he stood, watched their movements. 

The girl was well in advance; the second person, hurrying after. Thelast of the two crossed to the opposite side of the way and walkedwell in the shadow cast by the gables of the houses. The girl cast aglance over her shoulder as if feeling the presence of one in pursuit, but evidently finding herself quite alone, slackened her pace to takebreath. Now, the one nearest her made a strange move, if so be he werebent upon an honest mission; for as soon as the woman reduced her gaitto a walk, the man loosened the long cloak hanging about hisshoulders, and seizing it in both hands, moved swiftly and noiselesslyin her direction. Aye, loose thy sword in its sheath, thou, standingin the shadow; for if there be in thee muscle for a fight, soon willthe clash of steel ring out upon the frosty air. 

The man was now up with the girl, who, on hearing footsteps, turnedand uttered a scream. Once only does she raise the cry, for before shecan a second time call out, the cloak is thrown over her head, a roughhand is at her throat, and she feels the pressure of a rope as it isdeftly whipped about her. There was a momentary struggle; but it soonceased, for the woman fainted, and was at the mercy of him who hadtrapped her. Is thy sword caught and useless? thy arm paralyzed? orwhat causes thee to stand unnerved and trembling? Was it the screamthat rang out upon the midnight air? Had it the sound of a voice dearto thee even now?

The man lifted the light figure of the girl within his arms andhurried away. Aye, Effingston, heaven-sent was the sorrow which drovethee forth to seek solace from the night and stars; but, come, now isthy time!

Fear not for him--he has recovered himself--and, snatching his rapierfrom its sheath, with one or two quick bounds is up with the man, crying: "By the God above thee, release the woman ere I crush thyhead, thou adder!"

The one thus addressed turned, and seeing the determined face at hiselbow, paused, but retained his grasp upon the girl. 

"Release her!" exclaimed Effingston, raising his sword, "ere I spitthee. " The man allowed his burden to slip to the ground, the cloakfell from about her figure, and Elinor lay at the feet of him sheloved. 

"Thou art quick with thy command, Master, " replied the other, coollydrawing his rapier. "Methinks thou hadst better attend to love affairsof thine own, rather than meddle in that with which thou hast noconcern. Put up thy blade, I say, and go about thy business, ere Iteach thee a trick or two which will let more ardor out of thy bodythan a three days' diet of beef can replace. "

"Thou knave!" Effingston exclaimed, casting a quick glance at themotionless figure upon the ground, and pointing toward it with hisrapier. "Dost call thyself a man, to steal behind and deal foulblows? Verily, thou craven dog, 'tis written in thy countenance, andhe who runs may read, that thou hast not the courage even to look awoman in the eye, much less to face a man in honest fight. "

"I'll hear no more of thy speech, " cried the now angry man, leapingmeanwhile to the middle of the road; "soon will I put holes in thygenteel carcass which will leave thy vitals cold for some time tocome. Up with thy sword, if thy bravery be not all talk. " Heunfastened his leather jerkin and stood awaiting Effingston, wholoosened the clasp of his mantle. 

"By my troth, " exclaimed Fawkes, who still retained his post ofvantage; "I swear 'tis not my place to interfere; likely it will be alusty fight, for both seem to have the proper spirit, and hold theweapon as those accustomed to the steel. Marry! it must be difficultto see the eyes in this light, but the point will be more readily kepttrack of. "

The combatants crossed swords and stood at guard. 

"If thou hast any friend to claim thy body, better write his name, "said the man in the leather jerkin, as Effingston's blade touched hislightly, emitting a grating sound. 

The only answer was a swift lunge, dexterously parried. 

Not three blows were exchanged before Effingston realized that the manbefore him not only possessed the skill of one long used to swordplay, but, further, combined with it the coolness and the keen eye ofan old duelist. Moreover, the neutral tint of his adversary's dressoffered but a poor mark by which to gauge his thrust, while his owncostume, being ornamented with silver, gave his antagonist mosteffective guidance whereby to aim his strokes. 

The other, also, came to the conclusion that no mere novice stoodbefore him, for Effingston had turned every thrust with an ease whichsurprised him; and several times his sword had crept so closely to theleather jerkin that three or four brown furrows had appeared upon it. 

"Enough of this child's play, " Effingston's antagonist hissed betweenhis teeth, making another furious lunge. The impetus given to thethrust would have sent the blade to the hilt into the other's body hadit come in contact with it, but Effingston met the blow in a way leastexpected, making use of a trick but little known in England at thattime, for as quickly as the sword flew forward he stepped lightlyaside, at the same time advancing his own weapon. The hilts cametogether with a crash; the guard of one was entangled in the bell ofthe other, and the two rapiers remained firmly interlocked. The mennow stood so closely that their breasts touched, the breath issuingfrom their parted lips mingling in clouds. Suddenly, almostsimultaneously, as if one read the intent in the other's eye, eachslowly moved his left arm to his side, seeking the dagger he knew hungthere. Again, on the same instant, the knives flashed forth; the mensprang quickly apart; the two rapiers went spinning on the roadway, and with a clatter, became disentangled as they fell. No time forbreath; each knows it is to the death, and plenty of rest awaits oneor both, perchance, in a few moments. The men leaped toward eachother; a confused struggle ensued. Fawkes from his post could illymake out who had the advantage. Suddenly, Effingston's foot slipped, he was almost upon his knees--the man was upon him, one hand grippedhis shoulder, forcing him to the ground, the other held the knifelifted high to add force to the blow; but that coveted strength costhim his life, for before the hand could descend, Effingston quicklyraised his dagger, and drove it with all his might up to the guard inthe neck left unprotected by his adversary's movement. The manclutched at the figure before him, the blade flew from his grasp andhe dropped with a bubbling cry to the earth, the blood spurting fromhim as he fell. 

"Marry!" exclaimed Fawkes, who through all the contest had beencraning his neck and breathing hard with excitement, "that was a bravedevice but not one which I should care to try myself. By the ApostlePaul!" added he in surprise on hearing the bell of a distant churchstrike the hour, "it is three o'clock, and here am I watching twogentlemen, whose faces I cannot even see, settle a little difficultyabout a woman. But 'twas a lusty fight, and for the moment made meforget the errand which called me forth. " Saying which and withanother glance down the road, he started upon his way. 

The victor stood regarding his foe, who made one or two convulsivemovements as if to arise, but fell back with the blood spouting fromthe wound and out his mouth. One more struggling effort he makes, but'tis the last; with a violent convulsion of his whole body the man inthe leather jerkin sinks to the earth to rise no more. 

Effingston turned to the second figure lying upon the roadway, and ashe gazed upon her, there was expressed on his countenance a certaindegree of contempt, but, withal, a love which pride and resolutioncould not quite kill. As she lies there, the white face touched by thelight of the moon, it is like looking upon the dead. 

"O God, " he whispered, as he suddenly knelt beside her, taking one ofthe white hands within his own, "would that she had diedbefore--before----" He slowly raised the girl in his arms; thenconvulsively pressed the light figure to him, and letting his headsink upon her breast, sobbed as only a strong man can. 

Again there was silence, broken only by the rattle of ice-coveredtwigs swept from the trees by the restless night wind. After a momenthe regained composure and fell to chafing her hands. 

A slight motion showed him the girl was slowly recovering from herlong swoon. Gradually consciousness returned, and lifting her headfrom the cloak he had placed beneath it, she looked about in aconfused way as though unable to make out her surroundings. Soon hergaze rested upon Effingston, who had drawn a little apart. Raisingherself, she tottered toward him, and would have fallen had he not putan arm out to prevent her. 

"What could have made thee treat me so?" she whispered, passing a handacross her face, as if endeavoring to brush away that which hinderedher thoughts. "Have I not suffered enough?" she continued, piteously. 

"I was not thy assailant, " answered Effingston, motioning to thefigure on the road; "there he lieth; thou canst go thy way in peace. "

The girl glanced in the direction and shuddered. "And how came thisabout?" she questioned, in a dreamy tone, casting a frightened look atthe thing in the path. "Oh, now I do recollect me, " added she, softly, as though to herself, seemingly oblivious of her surroundings. "I hadleft Sir Winter, and deeming myself quite safe, was hurrying home, when--for truth, I can remember no more until I found thee near me. "She ceased and looked up into his face with an innocent smile. Evidently the terrible strain to which her mind had been subjectedeffaced from it all previous impressions, or left only an indistinctrecollection of what had transpired. "It was brave of thee, " shemurmured, in the same dreamy tone, placing her hand upon his arm. 

At the name of Winter, Effingston drew back. Had she not by thoseunguarded words confirmed her guilt? All his pride and anger returned. The resolutions which had but a moment since departed, banished bythat helpless figure in the moonlight, now came again with greaterstrength. Of what weakness, he asked himself, had he been guilty? Ofkissing the lips not yet cold from the caresses of him who had defiledthem. 

"Very--brave--in--thee, " the girl repeated, in a dull monotone. 

Effingston glanced at her, but that piteously bewildered face cannotmove him, and he coldly answered:

"'Tis the duty of every gentleman to protect the life of a woman, eventhough her shame be public talk. "

Evidently the girl had not heard, or at least the words made noimpression upon her brain, for she nestled closely to him like afrightened child seeking protection. 

"Come, " he whispered. She obeyed without a word. They passed upontheir way in silence and at last reached her dwelling. Effingstonopened the door which stood unbarred, and assisted her to enter. Heturned to go, not trusting himself to speak. 

"Thou wert not always accustomed to leave me thus, " exclaimed thegirl, in a voice destitute of expression. "See, " she continued, "Iwill kiss thee even without thy asking, " and before the man realizedher intent, she threw her arms about him and pressed her lips to his. "They are cold, " she murmured, with a shiver. "But the night ischilly--look! now the east is streaked with red. " Turning, shepointed to the sky, dyed with the crimson light of coming day. Theruddy glow crept up, touching the girl and turning the snow at herfeet to the color of the rose. 

"Come to me, dear heart, " she whispered, holding out her arms; "takeme to thee, that on thy breast I may find a sweet and dreamlesssleep. "

The sun arose; but upon no sadder sight than this man, who ploddedwearily homeward--warring forces within, and a desert all about. Onhis way through the silent streets, made more desolate by thecheerless light of coming day, he saw for a moment a mirage of anhonorable love and happiness. In the fair city of his dream he behelda bright and happy home, made so and adorned by the girl whose kisswas still upon his lips. There, always awaited him a heart which, through its love, added to each blessing, and dulled every sorrow. Ever on the portal stood a being he worshiped, who, with her fair armswreathed a welcome of love about him. They pass within; a bright faceoffers itself for a kiss; fondly he stoops, but the dreamvanishes;--in the breaking of the morn he stands alone;--hope deadwithin his breast. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

AT "THE SIGN OF THE LEOPARD. "

Winter waited long for his servant's return. He walked restlessly upand down the chamber, ever and anon pausing, either for recourse tothe flagon on the table, or to draw aside the curtains and gaze outupon the street. At last, sinking into a chair with a muttered curseat the long delay, he fell into deep sleep, overcome by the wine inwhich he had so freely indulged. Dawn broke gray and cheerless. Thefirst rays of the sun penetrated into the chamber and fell upon thesleeper, --his position was unchanged since the small hours of thenight. Gradually, as the light increased, he stirred uneasily, awoke, and rubbing his eyes, looked about as though not sure of thesurroundings. His eye rested upon the flagon, then slowly traveledtoward the window. The recollection of the last night, however, flashed before him, and springing from the chair, he dashed out intothe corridor. 

"Richard!" he called. No answer followed his summons. 

"Richard, " he repeated, in a still louder tone. The only response wasthe echo of his own voice. 

"What mad business be this?" exclaimed he, retracing his steps andlooking wildly about the apartment. "By this cursed drink have Ibrought ruin to our hopes and cause. Out upon thee, " he cried in atransport of passion, suddenly seizing the flagon, and flinging itwith all his might across the room. The heavy piece of metal struckthe wall, sending out a deluge of wine, and falling with a crash, shattered into fragments an ivory crucifix resting upon a small table. Winter stood aghast at the havoc wrought. 

"An omen, " he whispered, white to the lips, glancing about withfrightened looks, then kneeling to take up the broken cross. 

"See, " he cried, holding with trembling fingers the image of thecrucified Savior which had escaped the wreck, and now dripped withwine;--"Christ's wounds do open their red mouths and bleed afresh atmy awful deeds. " The man arose, crossed himself, and thrust the imageinto his doublet, then wiping the sweat from his brow sank into achair. 

"'Tis not by these tremblings, or vain regrets, that I may fortifymyself, or mend what's done, " he exclaimed. "I must bethink me, andlet reason check the consequences of my folly. The girl asseveratedthat she heard all which transpired at her house last night. Oh, mostunfortunate chance which gave the words into her ear! What foul fienddid raise the cup to my lips and leave my wit too weak to turn thedeadly stroke? Nay, " he continued, after several moments, shaking hishead, "she'll not make known the purport of our speech, for the loveshe bears her father is a potent hostage for her silence, and if I bejudge, Mistress Elinor will make scant mention of her visityesternight. Even if there be small love in her heart for me, a mostwholesome fear doth take its place, and for my present purpose onewill serve as fittingly as the other. Marry, " he continued, with asmile, seemingly relieved by his reflections, "thy ready wit hath atlast returned; but by St. Paul! what hath become of that varletRichard? 'Tis more than likely the open door of some pot house spokemore strongly to him than my command, and 'tis most providential if mysurmise be true; I must have been mad indeed to trust the rogue onsuch a mission. Small doubt but that he heard all which transpiredhere last night, for he hath a most willing ear to listen, and atongue given to wag. 'Twould be a heaven-sent deed if something wouldoccur to silence his speech, for his knowledge, if he hath the wit toknow its value, may be a deadly menace to our cause. When he returnsI'll give the knave silver to quit the country; or, perchance, " headded, a hard, cunning look coming into his eyes as he put his handupon a small dagger at his side, "if that will not suffice, 'twill benecessary for our safety to introduce him to more sturdy metal. "

The man arose and proceeded to efface the marks of dissipation, andset his disordered dress to rights, saying as he finished, "I must tomy appointment with Garnet. Marry, " he added, donning hat and mantle, "I hope he is safely housed, and that my letter to Giles Martin, whichthe worthy prelate was to present, did insure him some extraattention, as a pot house, at its best, must be a poor refuge for apriest. "

It was early in the morning and few people were astir. 

"Gramercy, " quoth Winter, when he had proceeded some distance on hisway, "would that some person were abroad that I might enquire thedirection to 'The Sign of the Leopard;' I swear, " he added, glancingabout, "it must be in this neighborhood, but I can illy guess where. "Looking, he perceived a group of men a little distance down thestreet. "There be some worthies, " exclaimed he, "who can perhapsdirect me to the hostelry. " As he approached he saw they wereregarding a figure lying upon the ground. 

"Nay, Master Alyn, " said one, "thou hadst best do naught but let itawait removal by the King's guard; if thou disturb the body surelyquestions might be asked which 'twould bother thy head to answer. "

"Beshrew my heart, " exclaimed the man addressed, who, judging from hisappearance, was a small tradesman, "I can ill afford to have this evilthing lying upon my step, preventing what little trade might driftthis way. "

Winter now came up with the group, and as they turned at the sound ofhis footsteps, he could see that the object of their remarks was a manlying face downward on the flagging, and his attitude of relaxationshowed that death had overtaken him. 

"What hast thou here, my men?" Sir Thomas exclaimed, "some victim of adrunken brawl?"

"That we cannot make out, " answered the first speaker, touching hishat, on perceiving--by his dress and manner--that the questioner was agentleman, possibly one in authority, "but for truth, he has beenstuck as pretty as a boar at Yule-tide. Thou mayst look for thyself, "he added, with some little pride, as of a showman exhibiting hisstock, and laying hold of the body by the shoulders he turned it over, so that the distorted face gazed up at the sky. 

Winter started at the sight, unable to repress a cry, for before himwas the body of his servant. His wish had indeed been fulfilled; thosesilent lips would tell no tales. 

"What, good sir!" cried he who seemed to be the spokesman of theparty, on noting the white face of the other; "doth thy stomach turnso readily?"

"Nay, " replied Winter, raising a gauntlet to hide his emotion, "butthey who meet death suddenly are seldom sweet to look upon, and--and--for truth, I have not yet broke my fast; canst direct me toa certain hostelry in this neighborhood known as 'The Sign of theLeopard?'"

"I can, Master, for many a pot of ale I've drank in that same place. Look, " he continued, pointing, "if thou wilt follow this street untilthe second turning to the right, from there thou canst readily see thetavern's sign. "

"My thanks to thee, " said Winter, taking a coin from his purse andhanding it to the man. His eyes again for a moment turned upon theprostrate figure. "And my friends, " added he, "I would deem itexpedient that ye notify the guards, and have this unsightly thingremoved. " He then turned and proceeded in the direction given him. This incident brought a renewal of the apprehensions which had hauntedhim earlier in the morning, and he muttered as he went on his way:"There is the first consequence of my folly, and the next may be--nay, courage; heaven will not be so merciless as to permit one evil deed tooverthrow our cause. God will pardon this hasty sin, when he whocommitted it doth risk life in His holy work. But, " he added, with asmile, "'tis providential justice which slew the man, for the deadutter no words. " At last he arrived before the house which he sought. "Marry, " he exclaimed, gazing at the exterior of the tavern; "'tisindeed a sorry place for the saintly Garnet to reside in, but it hasthe advantage of being a secure retreat. " He tried the door, whichyielded to his touch, and entered the apartment. On the tables stoodthe remains of last night's libations, and the air hung heavy with theodor of stale tobacco smoke. Over all was a spell of silentdesolation, as if the ghosts of the songs and merry jests, which hadechoed from the walls, had returned with aching heads to curse theroom. 

"This is a sweet place, truly, " said Winter, looking upon the table. After a short delay the sound of footsteps could be heard approaching, a door opened and the host entered. Giles Martin, not at oncerecognizing the man who stood by the table, regarded his guest withsome little surprise, for a customer at that early hour was rare. 

"To what may I serve thee, sir?" said he, advancing toward Winter. "Well, Master Martin, " exclaimed the one addressed, "dost so soonforget a face? It is, I swear, a poor trick for a landlord. "

"What, Sir Thomas?" cried the other in surprise, holding out his hand, "I did not recognize thee in this uncertain light. A thousand pardons, and highly am I honored to find thee in my humble house. "

"'Tis but small honor I do thee, " replied the man, with a laugh, drawing off his gauntlets. "Didst receive my letter?"

"Aye, that I did, and have shown the bearer of it every courtesy whichthis poor tavern can provide. Much am I gratified to learn that SirThomas Winter remembered one whom he hath not seen since----"

"Nay, good Martin, I do recall the time thou wouldst name. But praytell me, is my cavalier friend up at this early hour, for I wouldconfer with him. "

Giles cast a quick glance at the speaker, then letting his eyes fall, said:

"That he is, and little hath he slept this night, for 'twas late erehe arrived, and when I arose I heard him walking about. "

"Then wilt thou tell him I await; or--nay, stop--thou needst notannounce me; I will see him in his chamber. Show the way, I willfollow. "

"As thou dost wish, " said Giles, turning to open a door which hid aflight of rickety stairs leading to the floor above. Reaching thelanding Winter noted that Martin was about to follow and exclaimed:

"Nay, show me the portal, I will not trouble thee further. And if thouwilt be so kind, see to it that we are not disturbed in ourconversation. "

"Have no fear for that, Sir Thomas, I will take care that none dointerrupt. The room is in front of thee, " saying which, Martin turnedand descended the stairs. 

Winter tapped upon the panel. 

"Enter, " said a quiet voice. 

He lifted the latch and passed into the room. The prelate hadevidently been engaged in prayer, for, as the other stepped within, the priest was arising from his knees. His face seemed in strangecontrast to the garb he had donned; the delicate, almost effeminatefeatures of the man were little in keeping with the gay attire of acavalier. 

"Ah, Sir Thomas, " exclaimed the Jesuit, advancing with gentle dignityand extended hand, "glad am I to see thee, for I have been more thanlonely, but, " he added, with a bright smile, "'tis not my nature tocomplain; these be but small discomforts, and gladly would I enduregreater in the service of my Master. Hast any news? Hath aughthappened since we met? But pray be seated, " he added, pointing to oneof the two chairs, which, with a low bed, comprised the furniture ofthe room. 

"Nay, good father, nothing hath transpired, " replied the other, ashade passing athwart his face; "and now tell me, what dost thou thinkof Fawkes? Is his enthusiasm great enough to serve our purpose?"

"A most terrible man, but one whose cruelty rests upon the love ofGod. Indeed, it is as thou didst say, if each Catholic in England werepossessed of but one-half his zeal, then would the gutters run redwith the blood of heretics; 'twas such as he who made the eve of St. Bartholomew. Are we free to speak?" queried Garnet, leaning toward theother. 

"Quite free, " replied Winter, "a faithful friend of mine is on guardthat we be not interrupted. "

"Then, 'tis well; I have spent the night in prayer, beseeching theAlmighty to lead my mind aright that I may decide the justice of theplan proposed. Ah, " exclaimed the Jesuit, arising, and with handsclenched before him, "'tis a hideous act, but, " an expression offierceness coming into his gentle face, "my supplication was answered, the deed is favored by God, for He hath sent me a token of Hisapproval. "

"A token, thou sayest, good father?" exclaimed Winter in an awedvoice. 

"Verily, " cried Garnet, raising his eyes to heaven, "a sign from Himwhose cause we serve. 'Twas thus: Long had I knelt in prayer, long hadI raised my voice that He who holds the oceans in His palm, and guidesthe planets in their courses, would lead me to a wise decision. 'OGod, ' I cried, 'send thou some token that I may know thy will. ' Evenas I gazed upon the crucifix clenched in my unlifted hand, the messageI so craved had come, for the cross was stained with blood, which fromit fell in sluggish drops. I looked more intently, filled withamazement, and perceived that so closely had I pressed the silverimage of the blessed Savior it had cut into the flesh. But 'twas God'svoice in answer to my prayer. "

"Most marvelous, " whispered Winter, crossing himself. "But didst thoucomprehend all that Fawkes proposed? Hast dwelt on every point?"

"Think not, my son, " the prelate answered, "that because my eyes havelong been used to the dim light of the sanctuary, they have notperceived all the horror of that which must be done. But now, " hecried, his pale face flushed with emotion, "God in His wisdom hath fora time taken from me the crucifix and given in its place the sword. Sobe it, " he continued, drawing the rapier hanging by his side andkissing the cross formed by the blade and handle, "He shall not findHenry Garnet wanting, for not until the Angelus doth sound fromLandsend to Dunnet Head, will this hand of mine relax its hold, unlessdeath doth strike the weapon from it. "

"Ah, good father, " cried Winter in admiration of the other's spirit, "thy enthusiasm and courage are surely heaven born, but, " hewhispered, "if we fail, what then?"

"We cannot, " broke in the Jesuit, his eyes alight with the fervor ofhis spirit. "Have I not told thee that heaven approves our act?Victory belongs to us; the White Dove doth rest upon our helms. 'Tistrue that some of us may perish, but what of them? Their fame shalllive from age to age, and never will the call to Mass or Vesperssound, never will the clouds of incense mount upward--streaming pastthe Host without their names being within the hearts and on thetongues of the worshipers. Think how greatly we be blessed, " hecontinued, laying his hand fondly upon the other's shoulder;--"a few, a happy few, who have been thus elected to raise the cross of Christfrom out the dust. Nay, " he added, shaking his head, "I would not wishour danger one jot or tittle less, for, methinks, some portion of theglory which is now our own might depart with it, and I could illybear the loss of even one small gem which must rest in the immortalcrown of our recompense. "

"Then thou dost feel our victory is assured, " said Winter, in aconstrained voice, looking anxiously toward Garnet. 

"Nay, I do not feel--I am certain, " replied the prelate, decisively. "And now there rests with us the duty of forming our plans, makingeverything ready to strike the mighty blow. What hast thou to offer orsuggest?"

"Good father, I would not take upon myself to offer a suggestion, "said Winter; "but methinks it would be well that we all assemble anddiscuss the matter more fully. "

"And where shall the gathering be held?--at the house of MasterFawkes?"

"Not so, " replied the other, so abruptly that the priest turned uponhim an enquiring glance. "I mean, " continued Winter, noting the look, "'twould be unwise for us to be seen again meeting in that place; itmight arouse curiosity, and that might be fatal. "

"Then what wouldst thou say to my Lord Catesby's?"

"Nay, for I deem the same objection doth apply to his dwelling. Iwould suggest we gather at the house of Sir Everard Digby. Will't suitthee, father?"

"I think thy caution most commendable, and thy proposition the best. And when shall the meeting be?"

"Say a week hence, " replied Winter. "In the meantime I will see SirEverard, and make the necessary arrangements. But what of thee tillthen?"

"Disturb not thyself, my son, concerning me, " replied the prelate; "Iwill content myself, and be right comfortable in the care of thyfriend the host. Dost think he hath suspicions?"

"Nay, " replied the other. "In truth, if his suspicions were aroused, he would be silent; such poor taste hath he, that love for me wouldmake him dumb, and with it is the fact that the man is a zealousCatholic; methinks if his help could be safely won he would be mostvaluable to us. Shouldst thou find a fitting opportunity it might bewell to sound the man. "

"I will do so, " replied the prelate, "if a chance doth offer itself. "

"And now, " continued Winter, rising, "I must away. Be ever careful, father, for thy loss would signify the destruction of our hopes. "

"My son, " answered the other, with a smile, "thou dost speak from thyheart; but methinks, if at this moment Henry Garnet were dragged awayand hurried toward the block, the mighty work would be continued;success doth rest in higher hands than mine. Now, until we meet again, may the peace of Him whose servants we are rest upon thee. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

IN THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. 

Some leagues from London, in the shire of Buckingham, was situated thecountry residence of Sir Everard Digsby, who, with Catesby, Wright andPercy, was present at the house of the latter on the night in whichFawkes reached the city, whither he had been summoned by a letter fromSir Thomas Winter. The dwelling of the young nobleman, being somewhatremote from the more populous districts of the shire, seemed a fittingplace for such discussion, and, perchance, of more weighty matters, pertaining to the fast-growing conspiracy against the King and hisParliament. This place Winter had suggested to Garnet as the safestspot for the Catholic gentlemen to assemble for the discussion oftheir plan. 

'Twas the custom that those noblemen whose wealth afforded them twodwellings, one in London and another in the rural districts, shouldoft entertain at the latter such of their companions as pleased them;and these, riding forth from the city, singly or in goodly numbers, might pass but a single night, but sometimes when occasion served, afortnight, in merrymaking at their host's expense. Such being a commonpractice throughout the kingdom little danger of causing suspicion layin the fact that Winter, Rookwood, Catesby, Wright and such others ashad been admitted to their council, departed from London in company. Garnet, indeed, had ridden on before them, attended by Sir Digsby andFawkes, nor had any noted their departure; or, if perchance they did, were not disposed to comment upon it. 

A staunch Catholic and a zealous follower of the Jesuits, EverardDigsby had lent himself willingly to the cause of his brotherchurchmen, having long ago satisfied himself that their actions werejustified. In fact, his present convictions were to some extent theoutcome of early teachings, for even at a tender age his mind had beenunder Catholic influence, and therefore it was not strange that onreaching manhood he should be a strong adherent of Romish doctrine. And still further, his attitude was less to be wondered at, whenconsidered that the seeds of these same convictions were planted by noother hand than the friend, tutor and spiritual adviser of hisyouth--Henry Garnet. In truth, he had surpassed the zeal of manyassociates, for being denied the full privilege of such worship as hisfaith taught him, he had caused to be erected within the walls of hiscountry residence a small chapel, fitted up under supervision of theSuperior of the English Jesuits. 

Somewhat early in the evening the little cavalcade rode intoBuckinghamshire, and having reached their destination, were receivedwith much cordiality by the young nobleman and his more austerecompanions. The ride from London, on account of the inclemency of theweather, had been most disagreeable, and the travelers were nothingloth to stretch their chilled limbs before the great fire prepared inreadiness for their arrival, and to partake heartily of the wellordered refreshments which their host had caused to be in waiting. Having satisfied the carnal man, they were the more willing to turn tothe spiritual repast which had drawn them together; for in each mindthe conviction was strong that in plotting against the King they werebut serving the ends of God. 

"Good gentlemen, " said Garnet, the company having drawn about the firein a room somewhat remote from the more inhabited part of thedwelling, "having partaken so freely of worthy Everard's hospitality, it is most fitting that we turn for a season to that which hassummoned us from London. Methinks there be none absent?"

Catesby ran his eyes over the group about him, checking each off onhis fingers. "Winter, my Lord of Rookwood, good Percy, Wright, FrancisTresham and Master Guido, " said he, "these with Your Reverence, SirEverard and myself, make up the number--nine. "

"'Tis well, " exclaimed Garnet, fixing his eyes for an instant on theface of each. "Certain things have arisen which render it mostexpedient that we make common cause with each other--what think ye?"

"That the time is ripe for the maturing of such plans as best aresuited to our purpose, " replied Rookwood; "James hath again declaredagainst us. "

"'Tis even so, " broke in Percy, "and at the house of Master Fawkeswhen thou wert absent, there arose some discussion as to certain waysand methods best fitted to----"

"Ah!" cried Winter, looking toward the corner where was seated thesoldier of fortune, with his chin upon his hand; "the opportunity hasnot served since our last meeting to inquire concerning thy goodmother and thy daughter, friend Guido. Tell me, I pray, did thegathering of so many armed men in thy chamber disturb their slumbers?"

"Nay, " replied Fawkes, gruffly; "the dame knew nothing of it; neithermy daughter, of that----"

"And the lass, " continued Winter, eyeing the man closely, "is she welland cheerful as becomes her youth and loveliness?"

"As to cheerfulness, " answered the other, a shade of sadness cominginto his face, "methinks the merry smile hath forever forsaken herlips, for now she looketh so pale and wan it doth seem but the shadowof her former self wandering about the house; but thank God, the worstis over, and she is on the road to recovery. "

"And hath Mistress Elinor been ill?" inquired Winter, turning asurprised look toward the speaker. 

"I had deemed, " answered Fawkes, "that my absence from thy house fornigh on to a week would indicate to thee that something was amiss. Ievery day expected to----"

"For truth, " broke in the other in a relieved tone, "had I known thatthy daughter lay ill I would for a surety have called. But, pray, tellme; is she better now?"

"As I have said, she is better; but not herself as yet. In fact, itwas on the night of the meeting at my dwelling, after ye had alldeparted, that I went for a breath of air upon the streetand--and--well, it was when I returned that I found the girl in a highfever, and looking much as though she had beheld a foe. The feverspent itself in three days; now, 'tis but the after weakness whichafflicts her. "

"Thank God for her recovery!" exclaimed Winter, as he eyed Fawkesnarrowly; but finding nothing in his countenance to arouse alarm, sankback in his chair with a sigh of relief. 

"And now, " said Garnet, who had listened with attention to thedialogue, "since thy last words have banished from my mind the anxietycalled forth by the recital of thy fair daughter's illness, we mayagain turn our thoughts toward other matters, and listen to goodCatesby here. "

"As thou knowest, " began Catesby, "it hath ever been my desire to actquickly. Therefore I would suggest that no time be lost in carryingout such designs as will rid the kingdom of our enemies. "

"Well spoken, " cried Digsby; "to that we are agreed. "

Garnet smiled sadly. "Would that all England cried amen!" said he, solemnly. Then turning suddenly to Fawkes, "and thou, Master Guido, what sayest thou?"

The soldier of fortune looked up quickly. "I am ever ready, " said he, "whether we deal with all those in authority, or with the King alone. "

"Then?" cried Winter, "then?----"

Garnet cast down his eyes, the soul of the priest struggling with darkapprehensions which arose within him. "If there were any shadow of sinin it, " he murmured, "I would not countenance the bringing of it to anissue. No other reason hath drawn me into it save ardent and activeinterest in the cause of God. " Then facing his companions hecontinued: "'Tis the will of Christ that in the hands of His weakestsubjects shall be placed the sword of vengeance which shall sweepthese infidels from the land. Good Catesby hath oft pondered in hismind, with some impatience, the meaning of my check upon his zeal. 'Twas that I might seek through prayer a way to our deliverance. Thatthe time is near a revelation hath been vouchsafed to me from heaven. "

A murmur ran through the little company. The priest's voice changedfrom tones of solemnity to those of one who spake with authority; andstretching forth the hand, he said: "We are of one mind. PerchanceMaster Fawkes hath opened a way whereby shall be destroyed both theKing and his Parliament. What can effect our purpose quicker than theflash of gunpowder? God hath placed it in our hand for us to use, anddo His will. Yet other things remain; the door being opened, willthose who watch us from abroad unite with us in restoring to thisunhappy England its altars and its sacrifices? Sir Thomas Winter, thouhast been in France and Spain to do man's bidding; wouldst go thitherin obedience to the will of God?"

Winter started, for the meaning of the other's words implied much. "Isit a mission?" he asked, fixing his gaze upon the Jesuit. 

"Aye!" replied Garnet; "a mission of much danger, and one which willneed all secrecy. At the Court of France dwell certain members of myOrder, close to the King, and deep in affairs of State. Before them Iwill lay our undertaking, that when England shall be without agovernment and all the land involved in perplexity and beset withcontroversies, the armies of the Catholic Kings may come among us--theway being prepared for their entrance. "

A murmur of approval burst from Catesby, Rookwood and Percy. "And ifSir Winter hesitates, " cried the former, "I will----"

"Say no more, " interrupted Winter; "this day week will see me at theCourt of France. "

"And thou, friend Guido, " said Garnet, blandly, "thou art of readywit, and a good sword may be needful. Shall brave Winter go alone?"

Fawkes knitted his brows--"I little thought to again leave England sosoon, " he replied, gruffly; "yet ere another sunset will I be ready ifthus I may serve the cause. "

A look of kindliness came into the Jesuit's eyes; the blind zeal ofthe man, a zeal that thrust all other thoughts aside, touched him, andwith quick perception he saw in the rough cavalier one who, did allothers fail, would with his single hand hurl the thunderbolt. Takingfrom his bosom a small silver crucifix, he laid it in Fawkes' hand. "Give this, " said he, quietly, "unto thy daughter; 'twill guard herduring thine absence. Aye! and dost thou fear to leave her? I swear tothee, I will see to it that she lacketh nothing. "

Fawkes turned upon him a look of deep devotion. Bred in superstition, the fact that the priest understood that which troubled him--fear forthe safety of his daughter--seemed a sign from heaven. He kissed thecrucifix reverently, and put it in his bosom between the hard steel ofhis cuirass and his heart. 

Garnet turned to the group. "One thing remains, " said he solemnly;"'tis the oath which, registered before heaven, shall hold each to hispurpose. Sir Digsby, let us to thy chapel, that beneath the shadow ofthe cross we may seek that blessing without which all our deeds aresinful, and our purposes as sand. "

Solemnly the little company, headed by the priest and Sir Everard, wended their way toward the chapel. No words were exchanged betweenthem, for all were deep in thought. As they passed into the chamberset aside for worship, each reverently knelt and crossed himself, thentook up a position in front of the altar. As it was late and the briefwinter twilight faded from the sky, the chapel lay shrouded in deepgloom, relieved only by the red light burning in a hanging lampsuspended before the tabernacle, holding the consecrated elements. Tothe men there was something fearfully solemn in their surroundings. Before them stood that altar for the preservation of which they wereabout to pledge their lives. 

As their eyes became more accustomed to the subdued light, they beheldshadow-like forms slowly appear upon the walls, and while intentlygazing, these apparitions gradually materialized and assumed definiteshape, resolving themselves into paintings portraying the last scenesin the life of Christ. Penetrating everything was the clinging odor ofincense, which, in some subtle way, brings to mind the awful majestyof God. 

Presently Garnet emerged from the sacristy, bearing in his hand aflaming taper with which he lighted the candles on the altar. TheJesuit had placed over the costume which he wore a cope of deep red, richly embroidered with gold, and evidently the priest had not evenlaid aside his rapier, for its dull clank could be heard as he walkedabout. The rattle of the steel broke discordantly upon the deepsilence, but was it not symbolic? A deed of violence was about to becommitted, cloaked in the garb of religion!

Finishing his task, he knelt before the altar in silent prayer. Thenarising, he passed to the gate of the rood screen, where hiscommanding figure was thrown into bold relief by the altar lights. Presently seating himself, he said in low and solemn tones to the menkneeling in the darkness: "Consider well, my brethren, the step ye areabout to take; for he who turns back will be likened unto the womanwho glanced over her shoulder at a city burning;--to pillars of cravencowardice would ye be changed--monuments to mark how men, even whentheir duty shone clear as though emblazoned on the azure vault ofheaven, lacked heart to carry it out. Consider it well, then, all ofyou!"

The deep voice of the priest rose as he uttered the last words, andits resonant tone returned in echoes from the vaulted ceiling as ifeach statued saint from out his niche cried: "Consider it well. "

"Are ye all prepared?" he asked. A deep "All prepared" answered hisquestion. 

"'Tis well. Now shall I register your vows before the unveiled Hostand upon the crucifix, that in the very presence of the Son of God yemay swear to perform them unto the end. To thee, my son, " continuedthe Superior, addressing Catesby, "will I first administer the oath, for 'twas thy hand which was foremost to lift itself in the holycause. "

The man arose and knelt before the Jesuit. "Dost swear, " said thepriest, holding a crucifix before the other's eyes, "that as thou dosthope for salvation through the blood of Christ, so thou wilt yield thyblood if need be in this holy work; setting aside all else until aCatholic doth occupy the throne of England?"

"I swear it, father, " answered Catesby, reverently pressing his lipsto the cross. 

To every one of the eight did the Superior give the oath, and thentook the same himself. 

"And now, " said Garnet, when the men had once more resumed theirplaces, "do we proceed to administer to each the sacrament which alonecan fill your minds and bodies with sufficient strength to carry outour holy purpose. "

The priest arose and turned toward the altar, bowed, then slowlyascended the steps. After unlocking the door of the tabernacle with agolden key, he drew forth from the recess the Monstrance containingthe eucharist. Again he bowed, then elevated the Host, while thestillness was only broken by the deep tone of the sacring-bell, themen bending in adoration. Once more the priest made reverence; thenarising, took from out the Monstrance the pyx, and facing the group, repeated the words: "Ecce Agnus Dei. " All arose and knelt before himon the steps, receiving from his hands the sacrament, and when theyhad partaken, each silently returned to his place. A sense of thesolemnity of their undertaking, accentuated by the awfulness of theact in which they were engaged, filled the men's hearts so that theyscarcely beheld the Jesuit ascend to the altar and replace the Hostwithin the tabernacle, or heard the benediction he pronounced.... 

Once more the men stood in the room they occupied previous to theirentrance into the chapel. All seemed loath to speak, being deeplyimpressed by the ceremony in which they had taken part. 

At last Fawkes made ready for departure, being desirous of reachingLondon ere daybreak. As he approached the door of the room theSuperior arose and passed toward him. "Friend Guido, " said Garnet, asthe other stood ready for the journey, "I will not see thee ere thouand Sir Winter return from France. Let thy mind be at ease regardingthy daughter, for in thy absence I will have her under my specialcare. Hadst better mention to her that she will have a visitor?"

"I will be guided by thee in the matter, good father, " returnedFawkes; "but, " he continued, in a husky tone, "guard her well, for sheis very dear to me. "

"Have no fear, " Garnet answered, kindly, laying a hand upon theother's shoulder; "in that will I be as zealous as though she were adaughter of mine own. "

CHAPTER XV. 

"THOU SHALT NOT KILL. "

The deduction made by Winter concerning the silence of Elinor had beencorrect; but the power he had deemed potent to restrain her fromuttering what she had overheard, and from giving voice to theindignities he in his drunkenness had heaped upon her, was not alonethe reason of her silence; the mind was held in a species of lethargy. Now her father had left England; the motive which prompted hisdeparture she could surmise, --his mission was an enigma. And who washis companion? The man whose face was ever before her, whose touchhaunted her in dreams causing her to awake and cry in terror to theVirgin for protection. The girl was wrought up to a state ofhysterical expectancy. Even when sitting within doors, an exclamationupon the street would cause her to start, fearing it might be a voiceproclaiming the fulfillment of the awful threat which ever sounded inher ears. Never did she go abroad and behold a group of men but sheapproached with trembling limbs and nervous eagerness, feeling thatthe first words falling from their lips would be that England waswithout a king. What the effect of this anxiety might have been hadshe brooded over it long in solitude, is not difficult to tell. Butsolace arose from an unexpected quarter. On his departure for France, Fawkes had mentioned that there was in the city a certain friend, hiscompanion several years before, whom he had again lately met and askedto call from time to time to inquire if he might render any service. The girl awaited the arrival of this visitor with trepidation and someanxiety, being well aware that the companions of her father were, as arule, men of little refinement, accustomed to the rough life of acamp, and more at their ease in a pot-house than in the society of ayoung woman. Her expectations were pleasantly disappointed, for on hisfirst visit the stranger, by his ease and grace of manner, banishedfrom her mind all doubts concerning him. Although habited in the garbof a soldier of the period, there was about him something--a peculiarrefinement of speech, a dignity of carriage, a certain reverent homagewhich he rendered unto her--that won from the girl a feeling ofrespect and confidence. His visits, far from being cause forapprehension, had become the one bright spot in her daily life; in hiscompany Elinor for a brief time forgot the terrible anxiety to whichshe was a prey. 

The only circumstance which impressed her as strange was that "CaptainAvenel"--for by this name he had introduced himself--seldom visitedthe house by day, and there was always a certain amount of impliedrather than actual caution in his movements, which seemed to the girlodd, as nothing else in his manner could be deemed in the leastmysterious. 

On one of those evenings, which Elinor now looked forward to with somepleasure, she and "Captain Avenel" sat together in a little room ofFawkes' dwelling. 

"And didst say thou hadst intelligence of my father?" inquired she, eagerly. 

"This very morning, " answered the man, "did I receive a letter broughtby packet from Calais, and in the note he wished me to make known hissafe arrival; further, that he would by the next mail write thee, telling all about his travels. Now thou canst set thy mind at restconcerning him, for France in our time offers but few dangers, thoughin truth I think thy sire hath the look of one to whom peril would bea diversion. "

"England doth offer more dangers than France, " answered the girl, whowas now abstractedly gazing into the fire. 

Garnet turned a swift glance in her direction. The words awakened inthe priest that feeling of apprehension which had ever been present inhis mind since his arrival in London, but until now it had not beencalled forth by word or deed of hers. On the contrary, in her societythe Jesuit felt for some reason, probably the innocence and lovelinessof the girl, a sensation of rest and security that enabled him tothrow off the dread of detection which so constantly possessed him. But he turned and inquired in a quiet tone:

"And dost deem England such a dangerous country?"

"Nay, " replied Elinor, hesitatingly, "England doth seem all peace andquietude, but----" here she stopped, fearing the man might read whatlay hidden in her heart, for he was regarding her with a look ofsurprise as he noted her embarrassment. 

"Come, my daughter, " said he kindly, his gentle heart touched by thefear written on her face, "I have suspected long that some matter didtrouble thee. If I have power to lend aid, consider my whitening hair, and hesitate not to confide in me, who am old enough to enjoy theblessing of being called father by thee. "

Elinor looked into the benevolent countenance. 

"Fear not, " he continued in a persuasive voice, "if I can counselthee, thy wish for help is granted ere 'tis asked. "

She raised her head and met a look of gentle sympathy long unknown toher, and for which her poor heart so fondly yearned. The tears sprangto her eyes and her self control, that which the brutality of Wintercould not break down, gave way. She turned toward him like a poortired bird after battling with a storm; her weakness could not endurelonger to see protection neath the leaf and branches of his goodnessand not avail herself of it. 

In a moment more the words had passed her lips, --all that she hadoverheard, the words uttered by Fawkes, and the fear and anguish whichsince had haunted her. 

"Is there naught I can do?" she cried. "O God! when did I ever commita sin worthy of the punishment?" She raised her eyes to Garnet. "Eventhou art pale to the lips from the hideousness of the thing. "

Through the girl's confession, Garnet's attitude remained unchanged. At her first words he started, but with an effort controlled himself. The sudden revelation that their plans were known by one outside thosewho composed the little band consecrated to the holy cause, filled himwith a terror which, at first, reason was unable to check. But as sheproceeded, the quick mind of the priest perceived that the girl's onethought was, not to save the King, nor to defeat their hopes, but onlyto deliver her father from the danger to which he was exposed. Thefear gradually passed away, and as Elinor ceased speaking, thestrongest feeling in the prelate's mind was one of sympathy for herwho wept before him. 

"Is there naught, " Garnet inquired, mildly, when the girl hadfinished, "that thou can'st see to justify thy father's act, and bythat justification bring to thee consolation? Think, even though hewere marked to die, more honor belongs to him in this, than to live toold age in idleness and inactivity. Dwell upon thy love for him, thenmeditate on his love for the Church. "

"Nay, " she answered, "my knee doth bend before the altar with as greata reverence as any who do honor to the Host, and were my father tofall in open conflict I would not grudge his life given to a noblecause. But this act is not loyalty to God, for, did He not decree, 'Thou shalt not kill?' 'Tis naught but murder; and if my father fall, he will not meet death as a martyr, but as a common assassin. "

Garnet was silent; the girl's words sounded strangely to him. Notwishing to reveal his identity he determined to avoid furtherargument, fearing suspicions might be raised in Elinor's mind whichwould only make matters worse. What course to pursue he did not know. As far as circumstances permitted, he would help her, but how toeffect this was beyond his present comprehension. 

"I have not told thee in vain? Thou wilt aid me?" she inquired. 

"My child, I must have time to meditate, " answered the Jesuit. "Icannot give thee advice upon such a weighty matter without duedeliberation; but, " he added hastily, "all is safe for a time atleast; thy father is in France. "

"I pray God, " exclaimed the girl, "that I shall not have reason toregret opening my heart unto thee. Nay, thou couldst not be so cruelas to make known what I have told. Swear, " she cried in sudden fear, noting a strange expression on the other's face, "swear thou wilt keepsecret all I have revealed. "

"Alarm not thyself, " replied the prelate; "what thou hast uttered isas safe as if 'twere said under the seal of the confessional. Knowfurther, thou hast told thy trouble to one who will ever cherish theconfidence, even if his help avail thee little. But, " added he, tenderly--in the sincerity of his heart forgetting the sword whichhung at his side--"may the peace of Him whose hand was ready to turnthe water into wine, or raise the widow's son, descend and give theerelief. "

"Thou speakest like a priest, " she said. 

Garnet started, but quickly replied, "Never could a priest grant theeabsolution with a gladder heart, than I would release thee from thistrouble, were it in my power, and were it the will of God that Ishould do so. "

"And dost think it is God's will that I suffer thus?"

"Perchance, yes, " said he, in a thoughtful voice, as if communing withhimself, "and it may be His decree that many more do groan with thee. Be not regretful thou has told thy sorrow, for even to confide a griefis to make it lighter. "

"Nay, I do not regret, I think there is little else left me but toendure; would that I were dead and beyond the touch of sorrow, " sheadded, with a hopeless sigh. 

"Thou shouldst not wish thyself dead, for to do so is to beunreconciled to the will of God. If this poor hand doth fail to bringcomfort, my prayers shall ever be for strength that thou mayst bearwith fortitude all which the wisdom of heaven deems just to send. Tryto look upon thy grief as a tribute God demands to work out somemighty project of His own. "

"I will try, " the girl said, a sad smile coming into her face. "Thinknot I am ungrateful for thy words of comfort. "

"And now, my daughter, will I wish thee the blessing of sweet sleep, for 'tis late; I will see thee again soon. "

"Thou art very good, " she replied simply, "thou, the only oneremaining--" her lips trembled and tears filled her eyes; suddenly shethrew her arms about him, and between the sobs which shook her frame, exclaimed, hiding her face upon his shoulder, "all that is left menow. "

Garnet regarded the slight figure clinging to him: "Oh God!" hethought, "Is it Thy will that such as these must suffer?" He raisedhis arm as if to encircle her, but let it drop by his side. 

"Come, my child, " he said after a moment, putting her gently from him, "thy tears well nigh unman me; I would it were in my power to givethee consolation, but help must come from higher hands than mine. "

As he reached the threshold he turned and beheld a picture whichhaunted him many a day, and for an instant raised within his holy minda doubt of the justice of such grief. As she stood, the imprint ofdeep sorrow was on the fair young face--a sorrow the young shouldnever know. One arm was raised as though in mute appeal to him not toforsake her in this misery. A look, and he closed the door, passingout into the night. 

The effect produced upon Garnet by the trouble he had just witnessedwas complex. Never doubting the justice of the cause he espoused, still, his quiet nature could not hide from itself a feeling of pitythat one so good and innocent should be called upon to suffer equallywith those whose unholy hands were raised to snatch the cross from offthe altar of his fathers. 

"Truly, " he muttered, as he proceeded on his way--pressing a hand tohis breast that he might feel the crucifix resting there--"it hathbeen resolved by higher authority than my weak will that this thingmust be done. And, Henry Garnet, who art thou to question? Still, " headded, sadly shaking his head, the memory of a tear-stained facepassing before him, "it is a pity; but for every tear that falls fromthy gentle eyes a soul will be redeemed. "

He continued on his way in silence. As he approached the more denselypopulated districts of the city, an almost unconscious movement of thehand brought the fold of his mantle over his shoulder, so that it hidthe lower portion of his face. The tall figure of Garnet was one whichcould not fail to attract attention, and many a passerby turned to seewho the cavalier might be. This did not escape the eye of the prelate, and evidently for the sake of being unnoticed, he turned into a lessfrequented thoroughfare, and proceeded by a circuitous route to gainthe hostelry wherein he resided. The way brought him through a portionof the city composed of narrow intersecting streets and alleys, facedby poor and worn out hovels. A few old warehouses here and theremarked the spots where in times gone by fine goods had been stored. Asthey stood with broken windows and open doors sighing and creaking inthe wind, they appeared like living creatures who had fallen fromconditions of plenty, and were now, in their hunger, bemoaning theloss of the abundance which once had filled them. 

In front of one of these buildings Garnet paused for a moment to moreclosely examine the pile, and being deeply absorbed in his task ofinspection, was not aware of the glimmer of a lantern which camebobbing toward him along the main road. The first intimations that anyone but himself stood upon the street were a sudden flash of light inhis face, a heavy hand falling upon his shoulder, and a gruff voiceexclaiming:

"Henry Garnet, in the name of the King I arrest thee!"

The priest started, and with rapid motion drew his cloak about him, at the same time springing upon the step of the building. The manlowered the light and by its reflection the Jesuit could see that hewore the uniform of the King's guard. 

"Come, " continued the soldier, drawing his sword, "submission bettersuits thee as a priest, than does resistance. "

The blow had fallen so quickly, so unexpectedly, that for an instantGarnet stood as one struck dumb, unable either to reply or form a planof action. However, in a moment his alert mind grasped the situation. He had been recognized, that was evident, but his arrest was simplyfor disobeying the edict by which he, as well as all his order, werebanished from the kingdom. The penalty following the violation of thisdecree, at its worst, would simply mean imprisonment in the Tower. Butwhat, he asked himself, would be the consequence of it? While far frombeing an egotist, the Jesuit knew that he alone was the thinking powerof that cause which to him was dearer than life. And now, when planswere fast maturing, the corn ripening in the field, awaiting but thehand of the reapers, he was placed in sudden danger which threatenedto frustrate all their hopes. These thoughts flashed through his mindwith the rapidity of lightning as he confronted the man standing atthe foot of the steps. Escape he must, --but how?

"Come, Henry Garnet, " the man repeated, ascending the steps, lanternin one hand, a sword in the other. "Thou art my prisoner, and in thename of his most gracious Majesty, James I. , I arrest thee!"

A bold rush now would be of no avail, for the man stood with the pointof his rapier close to the prelate's breast, almost touching hisdoublet; furthermore Garnet's sword was in its scabbard, and at thefirst attempt to draw it, he, in all probability, would be run throughthe body. Was there no alternative but to yield? A gust of wind causedthe door at his back to creak. In an instant the Jesuit had sprung forthe portal, but the soldier, perceiving his purpose, lunged with hisweapon, and so true was the aim, that the prelate's cloak was pinnedfast to the wooden frame. An instant he was held there, but the claspof the mantle giving way released its wearer, and Garnet stood in thedark entry, the door shut, and his foot set firmly against it. Themove had been none too quick, for the soldier hurled himself upon theclosed portal, which caused the old boards to groan, but they did notyield; the only result of the man's efforts were, that the lanternflew from his grasp, rolling down the steps into the street. Thepriest heard him descend to recover the light, and relinquishing hishold upon the door, groped his way through the darkness, hoping toelude his pursuer in the building. His hand came in contact with thebaluster, and he quickly ascended the rickety stairs. By this time, the guard had relighted his lantern and was peering cautiously intothe hall, evidently fearing a sword thrust from out the darkness. Inthis instant's hesitation, Garnet gained the loft above. Here theobscurity was less intense, for the waning moon shining through abroken window into a room at his left, enabled him to see his way moredistinctly. There was little time for choice of direction, for evennow the soldier had commenced to ascend, and Garnet, not venturing togrope further in the gloom, turned toward the ray of light, and passedquickly into the room, pressed himself against the wall and waited. The priest could see his pursuer holding the lantern above his head, as he ascended the stairs, looking carefully about the while. Thesoldier approached the chamber in which the Jesuit lay hid, peered inat the door, and as if not satisfied with this cursory examinationentered. At last the man seemed satisfied, and with a muttered cursewas about to leave the apartment, when a fatal turn of the lanternswept one of its rays full upon the Jesuit. 

"Ah! there thou art, my sly fox!" cried the soldier, springing, swordin hand, at Garnet; another instant would have seen the priest pinnedfast to the wall, had not the man's foot in some way become entangledin the mantle hanging upon his arm, throwing him headlong with greatclatter of steel to the floor. 

In a moment Garnet was upon him, both hands at the soldier's throat, the long fingers pressing firmly the windpipe; one more strong claspand the priest released his hold, seized the other's sword, which hadfallen to the floor, and stood with its point upon the man's breast. 

"Swear by the God thou fearest, and upon thine honor, that thou wiltremain in this room until I leave the house! Swear it!" the priestrepeated, "ere I run thee through!"

No answer followed his command. 

"Come. Swear it!" he repeated, pressing the rapier firmly against theother's chest. The ominous silence fell upon the priest as strange. Hestooped to look into the face. The light was dim, and still lower hebent. Suddenly the sword dropped from his hand, for the Jesuit saw bythe bulging eyes which stared into his that he had demanded an oathfrom a corpse. Those long white fingers had pressed more firmly thanthey knew; the man's windpipe was crushed like paper. 

"My God!" the Jesuit whispered, kneeling beside the prostrate form, horror of the deed falling upon him. "Of what have I been guilty?This man's blood upon my head?" Terror-stricken, he looked about theroom. Again his eyes returned to the thing lying beside him. Was thata movement of the distorted face? He gazed upon it in horriblefascination. Slowly the lips of the dead man parted, the jaw dropped, and it seemed as though a hideous smile lay upon the distorted visage. 

"Ah!" cried Garnet, springing to his feet, "Even in death thou art thevictor, for I am shackled to thee. Never in this world can I escapethe recollection of thy countenance!"

The priest fell upon his knees, and raised his hands:

"God help me and forgive me for this deed!" he cried. "If I havesinned, 'twas not to save this worthless life of mine; not that Ideemed it sweet to live, but that I might survive to consecrate oryield that life in the furtherance of Thy holy work!"

He paused a moment in silent prayer, then arose, and taking a crucifixfrom his doublet, knelt by the figure on the floor and pressed thesymbol to the dead lips. 

"Nay, " said he, as he stood regarding the man, "I did not wish thydeath, and would gladly yield my life to see thee breathe again, but'twas ordained thou shouldst go first. And who next?" he added, raising the cross and gazing upon it--"Mayhap he doth wear a crown. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

MONTEAGLE AND SALISBURY. 

Four months passed; months of impatience to the conspirators whoawaited with eagerness the hour to strike against the government. Winter and Fawkes had returned from France, their mission in partaccomplished, as they had obtained from certain of the Catholicnobility promises of assistance in the way of men and money, did thedoors of England open to receive them. The plot to strike at the heartof the ruling powers was slowly maturing; Fawkes, now the leadingspirit, worked diligently both with brain and hands to perfect theplan decided upon by Winter, Catesby and the others. Secure in afeeling of strength, the King had little thought that Fate was slowlywinding about him and his ministers a shroud which prompt action alonecould cast off. 

Toward the close of a sultry midsummer day, Lord Cecil, Earl ofSalisbury and Prime Minister of England, after holding audience withthe King, returned to his dwelling, glad to cast aside his decorationsand forget during a few hours the weighty affairs of State. He wasscarcely seated, with a glass of wine in hand, when my Lord ofMonteagle was announced as waiting in the ante-chamber. 'Twas nostrange thing for this nobleman to seek the Minister at his home, forbetween them there was a warm friendship, and it pleased Cecil toreceive the other at any time he chose to visit him. He thereforeordered that Monteagle should be at once conducted to his apartment, and a second glass of wine prepared. 

As the peer entered, the keen eyes of his host noted that his bearingbetokened a mind ill at ease. 

"Faith!" said he, rising from his seat and extending his hand, "thoubearest a most sour visage, my lord. Hath ridden in the sun, or didthy cook forget his occupation and serve thee an ill-prepared repast?"

Monteagle smiled faintly. "Nay, " said he, "'tis my mind which issomewhat disturbed. "

"Then sit thee down, " cried Cecil cheerily, "and unburden thyself tome of all save affairs of State; of them am I exceeding weary, for theKing hath a new hobby, a tax on beets and onions, in the discussion ofwhich the afternoon has been consumed. "

"Then his Majesty devised another way----" began Monteagle. 

Salisbury raised his hand. "'Tis treason, " said he in feigneddispleasure; "wouldst have us in the Tower, good Monteagle, that thouspeak so lightly of James' statesmanship?" Then changing his jestingtone to one of gravity: "But tell me, what troubles thee? Hath the airof France failed to restore the spirits of thy son, Effingston? Hehath not returned?"

"He is still in Paris, " replied the other, touching his lips to theglass which had been proffered him, "I this day received a letter inwhich he speaks encouragingly of his health, and announces his returnwithin the month. Thy mind is easy, my lord?"

"And why not?" demanded the Prime Minister, holding aloft his glassthat he might watch the reflection of the sun's rays upon the wine. "England is at peace, the King seated firm upon his throne, and theShip of State rides on an even keel. Hast dreamed of treason, my LordMonteagle?"

"Perchance not treason, " replied his companion, drawing his chairnearer, "but--certain things my son hath written, added to otherscoming under my own observation, have caused me some uneasiness--ashadowy suspicion, as it were, that an ill plan is brewing against theKing's authority. "

"Tut!" cried Salisbury. "'Tis a fit of indigestion, about which thouhadst best consult thy doctor. Yet, what be these suspicions?"

"Thou knowest, " replied Monteagle, sinking his voice so that it scarcereached the other's ear, "there are certain Catholics among the nobleswho chafe grievously under the exactions of laws passed by Parliamentand approved by James. "

Salisbury shrugged his shoulders. "That is beyond peradventure, " saidhe, "but the laws will stand. "

"Of that I would speak nothing, " replied Monteagle, "being neitherKing nor Parliament, but it hath been hinted that perchance the windof discontent may fan into life a flame of----"

"Thou hast relatives among the Catholics, " interrupted Cecil, lookingkeenly at the other, "hast become a confidant?"

Monteagle shook his head. "Nay, " said he, "nor do I desire to mix inaffairs concerning my former faith. Yet, I have knowledge of certainmeetings which have taken place composed of sundry persons opposed tothe policy of James. "

"The dogs cut by the lash herd together in their discomfiture, "replied Cecil, "yet they fear to bite the hand which stung them. "

Monteagle frowned, for the words of the Prime Minister were not to hisliking. 

"There is more, " said he; "certain of those have been seen in France. "

"'Tis a most Catholic country, " replied Salisbury, "and, perhaps, wishing to worship unmolested before their altars, some have gonethither for their religion's sake. "

"My lord!" cried Monteagle, perceiving the Minister was in a mood forjesting, "hast thou had no fear that some hidden danger might lurkbeneath the calm exterior of the peace which covers England? Do notsmile, but hear me. Thou knowest the Viscount Effingston is in France, at the Court of Henry, and hath mingled much with some who are closeto the throne. Perhaps it may not have reached thine ears that somemonths back a bloodless duel was fought between him and one Sir ThomasWinter, a zealous Catholic and enemy to the King. "

"Ah!" broke in Salisbury, "thy speech grows interesting; and whatbrought about this duel?"

"'Twas an insult cast upon me by this Winter, " replied Monteagle. "Effingston chancing to hear, resented it, and an exchange of swordthrusts followed; but that is past. As I told thee this morning Ireceived a letter from Paris in which the Viscount says he hath metthis Winter and another, a soldier of the commoners, and----"

"A second duel hath followed?" interrupted the Minister. 

"Not so, " replied the other, "but being suspicious of the fellows, myson did set a spy upon them, feeling sure that no honest errand tookthem into France. "

"And what did he discover?" asked Salisbury. 

"That Winter and his companion sought many times audiences withcertain high churchmen known to be enemies of England. Once, hechanced to meet them upon the street, when Winter flushed a scarletand hastily passed. After this he learned that two Englishmen, one asoldier who had served the King of Spain, gained the ear of certainprelates and noblemen; that their conferences had been conducted withmuch secrecy, and having finished, the men left Paris in the night, taking poste for Calais. "

"And what then?" asked Salisbury, "did thy son learn anythingconcerning those secret conferences?"

"No way was open to him, " answered Monteagle, "but he thought it bestto lay the matter before me; the more so that Winter and the otherhave returned to London. "

The Prime Minister pondered for a moment. "Faith! my lord!" said he, "thy zeal for the welfare of the State is most commendable, and theKing shall know of it, but thy spirit is overwrought with idle fear. What if certain Catholics in England have sought audience with thoseof their faith in Paris? Have we then fear of France? My word upon it, good Monteagle, that calm thought will quell thy doubts. Of thisThomas Winter I know something; a reminder of the luckless Essex, agentleman whose zeal doth warp his reason, and who, should he presumetoo far, will feel the axe, I warrant. Thou sayest he is again inEngland; perchance he builds a castle which the sight of a line ofsoldiers will scatter to the winds. Again I thank thee for thycounsel, my lord, nor will I neglect such matters as pertain to thesafety of the King. If it come to thee, that these dissatisfiedCatholics grow too bold in speech, for I fear not other signs oftreason, lay it before me, that I may stop their tongues, ere evilthoughts be planted in the minds of them who cry 'amen' to any windof speech delivered in the market place. "

Monteagle arose, for he perceived 'twas useless to speak further ofill-defined plots and perchance groundless fears of treason againstthe King. 

"I but considered it my duty as an English gentleman to look to thewelfare of----" he began. 

"Thou hast my confidence, " interrupted Salisbury, "and though I seemto treat lightly thy suspicions they will be most carefully heededshould occasion arise. There be certain chambers in the Tower, wherethose too zealous in their faith may pass the time in prayer, thankingGod the King is merciful, and stays the axe. "

Monteagle bowed and left the room. "It may be, " he muttered, "that mymind doth dwell too much upon this matter, but I know Sir ThomasWinter well, and there be certain of the Jesuits yet in England. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

SOWING THE WIND. 

Late of an evening near to Michaelmas, three men applied for admissionat the door of a house close to the edge of the Thames, and which, byreason of its surroundings, assured security from observation to thosewho might choose to abide therein. Knocking upon the panel with thehilt of a heavy rapier which he had drawn from its scabbard, theshorter of the trio listened impatiently for the sounds which wouldprecede the drawing of the bolts within. His companions, who were inthe shadow of a neighboring wall, glanced about apprehensively. 

"'Tis an ill-favored place, Sir Thomas, " whispered one, graspingtighter the hilt of his sword as though the touch of the steel mightcalm in a measure his disquietude. "Scarce is it to my liking thatfriend Guido hath chosen so----"

His companion laughed uneasily. "He hath a keen wit, " replied he, "andmuch precaution is necessary that none suspect at the eleventh hour. As thou seest, good Percy, 'tis a most peaceful region, with fewabroad and no signs of the authorities. "

"Peaceful, indeed, " replied Percy, casting his eyes down the poorlylighted and narrow street through which he had come; "so is acharnel-house, yet one would scarce----"

A second rap upon the door, delivered with increased force, interrupted the whispered conversation. 

"Within!" growled Fawkes, bending so that his lips were on a levelwith the keyhole. "Art sleeping, Master Keyes, or----"

The shuffling of feet answered, and a voice nearly inarticulate fromdrowsiness demanded in no gentle tones who sought admittance to anhonest dwelling at so unseasonable an hour. 

Upon Fawkes replying, the bolt was withdrawn, the door opened a fewinches and the face of Master Keyes appeared in the aperture. Thesoldier of fortune motioned to his companions who quickly joined him. 

"Good Robert, here, is a most cunning rogue, " said he half laughingly, "having feigned sleep----"

The warden of the door forced a sneering smile. "Faith!" said he, making way that the others might enter, "'twas such feigning as mayever come to me when I would forget my troubles, and there be in mypurse no silver to purchase that which is opposed to conscience. Whatwouldst thou, Guido Fawkes? that I sit upright in a corner fromeventide till morn that thou be not kept waiting before the door? Illwas the day when, listening to thy words, I undertook this errand;thou art fain to wish that I may be blown to the devil by thy six andthirty barrels of----"

Fawkes hastily laid his open palm across the mouth of the irate man. "What now?" growled he gruffly, "that thou must cry aloud the contentsof thy cellar? Hast not been paid?"

"Aye, " grumbled the man, drawing back, "for sitting over hell! Maythose selfsame Spanish hirelings to whom thy powder goeth, be blown totheir master with scant courtesy!"

Winter whispered in Percy's ear: "A pretty trick, good Percy, yet whatmore natural than, wishing to turn a penny by furnishing powder tothe Dons, brave Guido should act with much secrecy, so that it be notseized by the authorities?"

Already they were in the house, and the door was securely fastened. Fawkes laid aside some of his cautiousness. 

"Friend Robert is a faithful man, " said he, turning to his companionsand speaking with much significance; "therefore have I entered into anagreement with him, that I, being under contract to the Spanishambassador to convey certain barrels of gunpowder into Flanders, heshould guard them till the time be ripe for loading into such vesselsas will carry them to the ship which I have hired. "

"Then, " replied Winter, taking from his wallet a gold piece andtendering it to Keyes, "he will accept this token which, I warrant, will be increased by others of its kind if his diligence pleaseththee. "

On seeing the gold the man's ill temper vanished. "Good gentlemen, "cried he, seizing eagerly the coin, "I spoke but hastily. "

"That we know, " said Winter, "and, perchance we, had we been so rudelyawakened, would have done as thou didst. Hath any disturbed theeduring thy guardianship?"

"None, save a few drunken braggarts who found their way hither, andwould have battered in the door. Did any come whose wits were sharperthan their caution, I would have----"

"What?" asked Fawkes pointedly, as the speaker hesitated. 

"Faith!" replied Keyes, "being a poor man, and a bag of gold piecesforthcoming upon the safe loading of this devil's face powder ontothe Spanish vessel, 'twould be but just, that did any seek to cheat meof it--well, the river tells no tales; what think ye, gentlemen?"

Percy shuddered; Winter pressed his hand. "Nay, good Percy, " hewhispered, "'tis scarce like to happen, yet even so, we would be butinstruments in the hand of God. "

During this conversation Fawkes, who seemed to be familiar with thehouse, had led his companions into a small apartment whose windowoverlooked the river which, washing against the stone foundation ofthe dwelling, offered a safe retreat did any, bent upon troublemaking, force the street door. 

Winter and Percy glanced about them. The place was bare save for arude cot, a shaky table upon which flickered an iron-bound lantern, and a small chest that, did occasion require, could be placed againstthe narrow door. At a sign from Fawkes, Keyes drew aside the bed, disclosing in the floor the outlines of a trap door, which covered anopening to the cellar beneath. Stooping, he raised the heavy cover, revealing the top rounds of a rude ladder leading into the blacknessbelow. 

"'Tis there!" said Fawkes shortly, "wouldst see it, gentlemen?"

Percy drew back, when Keyes, misunderstanding his hesitancy, caughtthe lantern from the table. 

"I will go down, " said he, "and thou mayst safely follow; the stuff bewell housed, tight as a drum, and, as thou seest, the lanternscattereth no fire. "

"But will not the dampness of the place destroy its usefulness?" askedWinter. 

"There is little fear, " replied Fawkes, "although it lieth below thesurface of the river; the cellar is hewn from the rock, and dry as atinder-box. Lead the way, good Robert, take heed with thy light. "

With much cautiousness the two men followed Fawkes and his guide downthe ladder to the floor ten feet below. Reaching it, Keyes held up thelantern so that its feeble rays penetrated the darkness. Piled againstthe walls of the subterranean chamber, Winter and Percy discernedirregular dark objects rising to the height of their heads. 

"'Tis the wind which will free England of the pestilence, " said Fawkesgrimly; then catching the quick glance of Winter, which reminded himof the presence of Master Keyes, added: "Which sown in Flanders willbring forth a whirlwind against those who serve not God after themanner of the righteous. "

"A goodly amount of the grains, " said Percy, placing his foot againupon a round of the ladder; "and how much saidst thou, good MasterKeyes?"

"As Fawkes hath told me, some six and thirty barrels, " replied thewatchman; "enough, methinks, to send all London up to the stars. "

"And the King, also, " whispered Winter in Fawkes' ear, and added, "letus to the room above. My stomach hath small liking for thy cellars. "

Percy was already half way up the ladder, and the others quicklyfollowed. To the soldier of fortune and to Master Keyes, 'twas oflittle moment that they had stood in the presence of such an engine ofdestruction, which, if properly applied, would shake to its foundationthe strongest structure in Europe. But in Winter and Percy, especiallythe latter, the presence of the gunpowder, thoughts of the purpose forwhich it was to be used, and the lives which must be sacrificed, overcame for the moment their fanatical zeal, and they withdrew with afeeling akin to horror. 'Twas truly the seed of death; and in sowingthe wind might they not, themselves, reap the whirlwind?

A short time in the upper chamber restored their calmness, and they nolonger seemed such fearful things, those grim barrels of harmlesslooking black grains, which might lie harmless for centuries, as theyhad seen them, or, at the touch of a single tiny spark, shake Londonas by an earthquake, vacate a royal throne, and exterminate in aninstant the proudest government in Europe. Percy, of more gentledisposition than his companion, gazed into the face of Guido Fawkeswith a feeling akin to awe. His was the brain which had suggested thisterrific method for the destruction of the King and Parliament; histhe voice that had pronounced the words which laid bare the plan toCatesby, Winter and the others. If Fawkes had never come from Spain, perhaps----, but the subject of his gloomy thoughts was speaking inreply to a question put by Sir Thomas. 

"Thou hast noted, " said he, "that this dwelling lieth close to theriver; so, 'twill be no great matter to remove the barrels from thecellar to the deck of a boat lashed beneath the window, and, if a darknight be chosen for the work, none, I warrant, will perceive thematter. What sayest thou, friend Robert?"

"That there is much of wisdom in thy speech, " replied the other; "andonce upon the boat, the channel to the sea, where will lie thy Spanishgalley, is open. When, thinkest thou, the powder will be moved?"

"I know not, " replied Fawkes, sharply, --"in due time----" Then, turning to his companions: "Gentlemen, having seen that which liesbelow, what may be your pleasure?"

"To return quickly, " replied Percy, relieved at the thought ofescaping from such an ill-favored locality. 

Keyes chuckled. "Thou art in haste to quit my presence, and my prettydevil's powder, good gentlemen, " said he; "didst sleep so near as we, perchance you would come to love it as Master Fawkes and I do. Onespark from this weak lantern, and----"

"Come!" cried Percy, drawing his arm through that of Winter, --"we aresatisfied; what need to tarry longer?"

In the street once more they, with Fawkes leading, hastened to gain amore populous section of the city. 'Twas to Winter's house they went, where Catesby was waiting impatiently. He, with Fawkes, had visitedthe house by the river on the night previous, therefore he fell intotheir discussion with good knowledge of the subject in hand. 

"Thou shouldst have been a general, " said he to Fawkes; "it scarcecomes to me how so goodly a quantity of powder could be stored inyonder place without detection. "

"'Twas no great matter, " replied Fawkes, setting down the wineglassWinter had handed him, "a little here, a trifle there, requiring someweeks in the gathering; but now, as thou hast seen, there is enough. "

Winter laughed. "Faith!" said he, "I would fain not have thee for mineenemy, friend Guido; else, some fine night, while I dreamed not thatdanger threatened, my good dwelling would come to grief. "

Fawkes smiled grimly. "Not so, " said he; "if thou wert an enemy, andI had sworn to kill thee, 'twould be by other means, "--touching thehilt of his sword. "What thou hast seen is reserved for kings andparliaments. "

"The powder is well stored, " broke in Catesby, --"what next?"

"That hath been attended to, " replied Percy. "As thou knowest, certainevents must transpire ere Master Keyes gives up his guardianship. Tome has fallen the duty of looking into the matter. The cellar of theParliament House must be reached ere further effect can come from ourplanning. "

"What hast thou decided?" asked Winter. 

"Upon a simple solution of the matter, " replied theGentleman-Pensioner. "Foreseeing our course, I have made an agreementwith one Henry Ferrers for the hiring of a dwelling close to the Houseof Parliament. The documents are already signed and sealed. As in manyhouses, the cellar extends some feet below the surface of the streetand, next it, lies the foundation wall of the House. "

"Then, " cried Catesby, "we will play the mole; is it not so, goodPercy?"

"Thou hast said it, " replied the other; "to reach the cellar beneaththe House of Lords we must pierce through the foundation. 'Tis ofgreat thickness and the task will not be easy. "

"I am little used to delving, " growled Fawkes, "but there is no otherway. "

"And Garnet?" inquired Catesby. 

"Garnet hath gone from London, " said Percy, "nor will he return untilthe fuse has reached the powder. He is now at Coughton House to awaitsuch time as we shall summon him to join our forces. "

"And them hast all in readiness?" asked Winter. 

"In the house of Henry Ferrers are tools for digging--picks, hammersand the like, " replied Percy. 

"And in another place lie six and thirty kegs of trusty powder, " addedCatesby; "the instruments are at hand. " Then rising: "Come, gentlemen!our conference is ended; to-morrow we work, not talk. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE CELLAR. 

The house of Master Ferrers stood on the narrow strip of land betweenthe House of Lords and the river Thames. The wall of the dwellingbeing adjacent to that which guarded the east side of the ParliamentHouse, 'twas not so difficult a matter for one bent upon gainingsecret entrance to the latter, to tunnel through it. Being of softbricks it would afford but a slight obstacle to determined men. Topenetrate the official structure was a harder undertaking, thethickness thereof being some nine feet, and the masonry of flintystone, firmly cemented, and hardened into a compact mass by the lapseof years. But, having once pierced through the two walls, the first ofbrick, the other of stone, one would find himself in a chamber of someextent, lying directly beneath the assembling place of the peers, andthe throne from which the King witnessed the convening of hisParliament. 

Though, in fact, a cellar to the main building, the room was upon alevel with the street without, the walls being of "stout stones" andthe ceiling formed by beams upon which rested the flooring of theHouse of Lords. 'Twas in this room the conspirators proposed to placethe six and thirty barrels of gunpowder, and--Parliament being insession--to apply a spark to the slumbering power by which those whooccupied the room above would be blown heavenward with such scantceremony that none among them should have time to cry: "Good Lord, have mercy upon us! Amen!"

In selecting the house against the east wall of the Peer's meetingplace, Percy had acted with some wisdom. The Thames was the silenthighway of London, and did a boat stop beside the river entrance ofthe dwelling, none would be likely to take any note thereof, nor tothink it matter of suspicion for one who occupied the place to use thewater as means of conveying such commodities as he chose to hisstoreroom or cellar. In this manner the powder stored under theguardianship of Master Keyes was removed by night to the secondstorage place, that it might be in readiness when the time arrived forplacing it beneath the floor of Parliament. Many persons dwelt in theneighborhood; in the vicinity were clustered the houses of the Keeperof the Wardrobe, auditors and tellers of the Exchequer, and many otherofficials of the government, any of whom might notice the barge lyingclose at the edge of the garden on the river front, and the mencarrying from it to the house divers packages, but it was not probablethat they would. None, unless having business with Master Percy, wouldapproach the door, nor enter the garden, much less question thecarriers concerning that which they removed so carefully. 

It was at the end of the tenth day after the visit of Percy and SirThomas to Master Keyes that the six and thirty barrels--twenty-fourhundred pounds--of powder were safely stored in the building next theParliament House. 

But ere this was accomplished, those who had undertaken the digging ofthe tunnel began their work. Under cover of the darkness, Catesby, Wright, Percy, Winter and Fawkes, entered the house leased by theGentleman-Pensioner, and being provided with a goodly quantity ofbaked meats and other necessaries, that nothing should arise to callthem abroad, they began their work upon the brick wall beyond whichlay the masonry proper of the House. 

Of the five, four were gentlemen of blood, to whom the handling ofpick and bar came not so readily. To Fawkes, skilled through longservice in foreign lands, where the undermining of walls andfortifications was a common occupation, it fell to direct the work, although in actual digging he took small part, it having been agreedthat he should serve as watchman, warn the others did any approach thegarden, or danger arise from sounds in the cellar reaching the ears ofthose whose curiosity might bring unwelcome investigation as to sostrange a proceeding. Crowded as they were in the narrow space, thefour conspirators, with doublets cast aside and limbs weary from theirunusual occupation, plied drill and crowbar, enlivening their toil bydiscourse upon the subject of the undertaking, and stopping ever andanon to refresh themselves with ale, or wine. 

"Faith!" said Sir Thomas, looking woefully upon his begrimed hands andvestment, "'tis a sorry thing to play the mole, when a sword thrustdelivered from behind a curtain, or the stroke of a poniard, would aswell free us of these tyrants. "

"'Twere perchance easier, " replied Percy, driving his drill throughthe last layer of bricks which stood between them and the second wall. "I, for one, would choose the Lord to give me work under an open sky, where there be less dust to blind the eyes and stifle the breath. "

Catesby laughed harshly. "Could Garnet hear thee, " said he, "adiscourse of patience would soon be forthcoming. To your work, gentlemen; we have already pierced one wall. "

An exclamation from Wright interrupted them. 

"By the wounds, " he growled, throwing down his crowbar with much showof temper, "one wall, indeed; a paper covering compared with this, "and taking the bar again drove its point with great force against theone now exposed, belonging to the House. 

The iron rebounded from the solid masonry as though driven against asheet of steel, for the flinty stone turned it easily, and only ashower of sparks answered the blow. 

"What hast thou there?" asked Winter. 

"The gate of hell, " retorted Wright, kicking the bar with his foot, "nine feet of it, by Master Percy's computation, and, I warrant, asmany years will be required to see the further side. Try it, goodCatesby, 'tis a nut a giant could scarce crack, though he wield abattering ram. "

Taking up a lantern which stood by the wall, Catesby examined themasonry with great carefulness. 

"Thou shouldst have struck the mortar, " said he, tapping the cementbetween the blocks of stone with the point of his drill, "wouldst tearaway the rock itself?"

For some moments he worked diligently, streaming with perspiration andhis loud breathing filling the narrow place. A hole scarce threeinches deep rewarded his exertions. 

"'Tis well reasoned, " growled he at length, "here is a riddle forMaster Fawkes; wilt summon him, friend Percy?"

Glad for an excuse to leave for a moment the ill-savored cellar, Percyhastened on his errand, and Fawkes presently entered, looking keenlyabout. 

"What now, gentlemen?" said he, "hast made an opening?"

"That have we not, save through this wall of brick, " replied Catesby, "methinks thy gunpowder could scarce open a further way, friend Guido. Look thou at yon barrier of stone. "

Taking the lantern, Fawkes followed the suggestion. "'Tis, in truth, most strongly put together, " said he at length, "but with due patienceand diligence this also may be overcome. Give me a drill. "

Having received one from the hand of Winter he attacked the masonry, striking here, picking there, until, having loosened a goodly portionof cement, he caught up a heavy crowbar, and inserting its point intothe narrow opening, bore down upon the iron with all his strength andthe block of stone, freed from its fastening, was detached and fellwith a dull crash upon the floor at his feet. 

The soldier of fortune wiped his brow. "'Tis of the smallest, " saidhe, "but the others will give way in turn. Thou must first be surethat the mortar is removed, when, using sufficient force, the rockswill loosen, thus making the hole larger. "

"There be too few of us, " said Winter. "I think some word should besent to my brother Robert, that he join us in this business, and alsoMaster Keyes, who being a man of much resource, and, perchance, skilled in such labor as this, may aid us much. "

"Can he be trusted in so dangerous a venture?" asked Wright. "Of thybrother Robert there is no fear, but what of this Master Keyes?"

"Friend Guido will answer for his loyalty, " replied Winter; "the manis reliable, though his zeal turneth to the securing of money. Already have I examined him, and found that within his mind lay somesuspicion as to our object in collecting such a quantity of powder. For recompense he will dig most industriously, and promise of rewardwhen our mission is accomplished will make him dumb. Thou hast my wordupon it. "

"Then, " said Catesby, "let him be summoned hither, and thy brotheralso; much labor lies before us; seven men can scarce accomplish it, and we are now but five. "

It was agreed that on the following night Fawkes should bring Keyesand Robert Winter to the cellar, when, with a greater number to labor, the work of forcing a passage through the wall could be accomplishedmore rapidly. In the meantime, being excessively wearied, theconspirators left the cellar and sought repose. 

 * * * * *

Two weeks passed. The excavation in the wall of the Parliament Househad increased day by day, until a hole some five or six feet inlength, large enough to admit the body of a man, was bored through thesolid masonry. With the assistance of the two additional members totheir little party the conspirators worked with renewed energy. Filledwith enthusiasm they had little sense of fatigue, and plied pick anddrill vigorously that they might gain entrance to the room beneath thelord's chamber before the convening of Parliament, which, as Percylearned, was to take place on the fifth of November. Confident thattheir work was appointed by God, those men of gentle blood curbedtheir impatience, though laborious and slow was the task, and everymuscle and bone ached when the tools were laid aside. For a time thedisposal of the earth and rock taken from the tunnel puzzled them, butFawkes with characteristic quickness found a way;--such of the debrisas would attract little attention was scattered about the garden; asfor the larger rocks and mortar, the river was close at hand, and, asRobert Keyes had said, it told no tales. 

So they worked, beguiling the weary hours with discussions as to whatwould follow the success of their project. England would be without aking; the machinery of the government shattered, and the way would beopen for seating a Catholic upon the throne. Prince Henry, successorto the crown, would perish with his father and the peers inParliament. They would seize the royal heirs who remained, PrinceCharles and the Princess Elizabeth, hold them in durance, while theCatholics would choose the heir-apparent and appoint a Protector forthe kingdom. It was a daring plan and the prospect of its executionlightened their toil, and intensified the flame of their zeal. 

Somewhat near the middle of the day, when, having ceased for a momentthe attack upon the wall, Wright, who had remained in the tunnel afterthe others had gone out, rushed wildly forth, his face pale under itscoat of dust and his limbs trembling strangely. 

"What aileth thee?" cried Catesby, alarmed at his companion's aspect, "hath the wall fallen in upon----"

"Nay, " replied Wright with harsh voice, "but I go in no more; thedevil hath seized this tunnel, and----"

Catesby entered quickly, and in a moment was at the end of the narrowaperture. On either side arose the rough masonry, torn and raggedwhere the stones had been forced apart; upon a heap of debris stoodWright's lantern, burning dimly, beside it his heavy drill and hammer. Catesby looked hurriedly about, but all was silent; the air was hotand stifling and the smoke from the lantern filled his nostrils. Heturned to retrace his steps, with rough words for Wright upon hislips, when a faint sound fell upon his ears; an unearthly thing, whichstartled him and sent to his heart a thrill of superstitious terror. 'Twas a measured tinkling, as of a silver bell, which rose and fellwith steady cadence. Instinctively his hand went to his left hip, butthe familiar hilt was absent; he had left it in the room above, guarded by Robert Winter, who watched with Fawkes. 

Snatching from his bosom a small silver vial filled with holy water, the trembling conspirator sprinkled a few drops upon the walls--thetinkling ceased, and from the entrance behind sounded the voice ofPercy:

"What hast thou found, good Catesby, a goblin, or----"

The answer of the other was upon his lips when, above his head, apparently from the center of the solid masonry itself, came a soundas of the rushing of mighty waters, which continued for a short spaceof time, then died away. The noise reached the ears of those in theroom without, and it needed not the white face of Catesby showing inthe opening to send them upon their knees with prayers to the Virginfor protection. At that moment Fawkes appeared among them. 

"What now?" said he gruffly, much amazed at so strange a sight, "thinkye, good gentlemen, that praying will cause the stones to separate?"

"Brave Guido!" cried Winter with trembling voice, "either this placeis bewitched or our plans discovered; we have heard----"

The renewal of the noise interrupted him. Fawkes laid his hand uponhis hilt and, with his lips pressed close together, thrust his headinto the entrance of the tunnel. For a moment he remained silent, then turned with a grim look upon his face. 

"'Tis from the place which we strive to reach, " said he shortly; "goye to the room above, while I learn its meaning;" and without moredelay he left the cellar, followed by his terror-stricken companions. 

Disguised in the dress of a common porter there was little danger inhis venturing abroad. After an absence of about an hour, he returnedto the six conspirators. 

"Faith!" said he, tossing his cap upon the table, "thou mayst layaside thy tools, Sir Thomas, and the others likewise. "

"And wherefore?" asked Percy with bloodless lips. "Are we thendiscovered? If so, I will die with sword in hand----"

"Speak not of dying, " replied Fawkes, a smile passing over his face;"rather set thy wits to working. Thou art good at bargaining; hire forus, therefore, this cellar beneath the House of Parliament. "

The Catholic gentlemen gazed at him in astonishment, wondering if somesudden terror had beclouded his brain; or, did the man but jest withthem?

"Hire the chamber under Parliament House?" gasped Catesby, "as wellmight good Percy bargain for the royal prerogative of James. "

"Ye think me mad, " said Fawkes, "but listen. After leaving you I mademy way with all haste to the door of the Parliament cellar, which wasopen, and discovered the meaning of the noise which reached us in thetunnel;--'twas the sliding downward of a goodly quantity of coal, owned by a woman of some property called Bright, a dealer in coals andfaggots. She being present, attending to the removal of her own, Iaddressed her and learned that, having hired the cellar from theauthorities, she was about to give it over to them. 

"'And is't for rent?' asked I. 

"'That it is, ' replied she; 'for he who hath the renting of it, oneWhynniard, by name, did offer it for the coming quarter, but itpleaseth me to store my coals elsewhere. '

"Thou seest, therefore, that this room is for us if we do choose, andMaster Percy, well versed in such matters, has but to bespeak thisWhynniard and possession will be given of a most valuable corner ofthe House of Parliament. "

This sudden turn of fortune rendered the conspirators for the momentspeechless. Winter was the first to regain his balance. 

"It shall be done, " cried he; "right glad am I that such a chance hathcome to us. Good Master Percy, bestir thyself, before another seizethe opportunity. "

To all, it seemed that the hand of God had opened a way for them, andPercy made haste to do his errand, and with such success, that ereanother sunrise the room beneath the House of Lords was in the handsof those who hoped to overthrow the government. 

Having gained so easily the place they had sought to acquire bystealth and painful labor, the conspirators at once set aboutconveying into it the powder now stored in the house of MasterFerrers. Fawkes, to whom this work fell, bought, and ordered depositedin the chamber, a goodly quantity of coals and faggots, so that onechancing to enter would note only a pile of such commodities asdealers in fuel collected for sale. Care was taken that the unfinishedtunnel in the wall should be covered so that none would notice it. This was easily done by replacing a few of the outer stones andcementing them together. 

Some days yet remained before the opening of Parliament; during thattime Percy, Catesby, Winter and others of the conspirators, formedsuch plans as would be to their advantage when the kingdom, shaken toits center by the death of the King and his ministers, should bethrown into confusion. As for Fawkes, each day found him in the fatalcellar, where he studied the condition of his coals and faggots, making sure that no prying eye had penetrated the covering, underwhich was hidden the "devil's powder" awaiting the spark which wouldfree English Catholics from James of Scotland and his Parliament. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE NOTE OF WARNING. 

During the last week of October, sixteen hundred and five, near theday for the convening of Parliament, Lord Monteagle suddenly appearedin his house at Hoxton, from which he had been absent a month. Hismanner was perturbed and preoccupied in the extreme. Usually of agenial disposition, he surprised the servants who attended him, by animpatient order that supper be served at once, as he and the gentlemenaccompanying him had already fasted too long. 

Soon after seven in the evening he dispatched a footman upon an errandinto the neighboring street. This man shortly returned in haste, presenting to his lordship a sealed letter, addressed, in a crampedhand, to "The Right Honorable, the Lord Monteagle. "

He received the missive, handling it in a fastidious manner, andinquired with some show of spirit how it had come through a servant, instead of being delivered in the usual way. 

"'Twas given me, " replied the footman, "by a reasonably tall personwho stood upon a corner of the street, and directed with muchsemblance of authority that I give it into thy lordship's hand and tono other. "

"'Tis a most unwonted thing, " said Monteagle, breaking the seal, "probably some petition for alms which----"

Then, on glancing over the sheet, he started, and turned to agentleman beside him. 

"Good Thomas Ward, " said he, "'tis written in a most illegible andwretched hand which I can scarce decipher; neither bears it any dateor superscription. I pray thee take and read aloud, that all may hearand pass opinion upon so strange a matter. "

Ward accepted the paper, and smoothed it out upon his hand. "It seemsthe writing of a laborer, " said he, "one who doth wield a pick andspade with more ease than a quill. A most unmannerly jumble ofill-conditioned words, as thou shalt judge, my lord, upon hearing. " Sosaying he read aloud as follows, while the others sat and listened:

 "My lord out of the love I beare to some of youer friends I have a cayer of youer preservation therefor I would advyse yowe as yowe tender youer lyfe to devyse some excuse to shift of youer attendance at this parleament for God and man bathe concurred to punishe the wickedness of this tyme and thinke not slyghtly of this advertisment but retyre youer selfe into youer country where yowe may expect the event in safty for though there be no appearence of any stir yet I say they shall receyve a terrible blowe this parleament, and yet they shall not see who hurts them. Thys cowncel is not to be condemed because it may do yowe good and can do yowe no harm, for the danger is passed as soon as yowe have burnt the letter, and I hope God will gyve yowe the grace to make good use of it to whose holy protection I commend yowe. "

"A most amazing document, " said Ward, as he returned it to Monteagle;"and what think you of it, my lord? canst detect the meaning of sostrange a warning?"

His lordship contracted his brow and studied the writing with muchattention. "'Tis as you perceive, " said he, "a warning unto me thatsome unexplained danger lies in the way. "

"A boorish jest, " cried one at the table; "think not upon it, mylord. "

"Which is proved beyond doubt by the action of the one who broughtit, " said another; "he dared not deliver it at the door. "

Monteagle folded the letter carefully and thrust it inside hisdoublet. There arose in his mind suspicion that in the tenor of themessage lay the verification of the warning to Lord Salisbury, andthat, mayhap, beneath the apparent serenity of the kingdom, smoldereda volcano which needed but the touch of a directing master hand tosend belching forth its contents of treason and blood. Into his mindcame also the words of the Prime Minister spoken one afternoon severalmonths before, that should aught be unfolded of plots or treasonabledesigns, they should be disclosed to him, and thus the danger to theState be averted. 

He had therefore a feeling of relief when the meal was ended, and hiscompanions left him to carry out his intention. The raw October nightwas filled with storm and blackness, but the spirit of Lord Monteagleburned within him to lay before Salisbury and, perchance, the King, the warning which had come to him. 

Scarce a quarter of an hour elapsed after rising from the table ere, covered by a great cloak, booted, and with a stout rapier girt at hisside, he left Hoxton House unnoticed, and turned his steps toward thedwelling of the Prime Minister. Although the hour was late Cecil hadnot retired when he received the announcement that Monteagle sought aninterview. Surprised at so unusual an occurrence the Ministerhastened to greet his visitor, ordering, as was his custom, that alight repast be set before him. 

"And what now, good Monteagle?" asked he, looking at his companionwith a smile, "hast thy digestion played thee false again?"

"Of that thou shalt judge, my lord, " replied Monteagle, taking theletter from his doublet and handing it to the Minister. 

Salisbury mastered its contents with an aptness peculiar to himself. 

"Faith!" said he, letting his eyes rest searchingly upon the face ofhis companion, "and how camest thou by this thing, my good lord?"

Monteagle related briefly the scene at the supper table. 

"And didst thou have the letter read aloud, in the presence of thygentlemen?" asked the Minister. 

"Its contents were unknown to me, " replied the other; "the writing wasobscure and I did request Thomas Ward to decipher it. "

Salisbury pondered for a moment. The warning of danger threateningthose who would sit at the opening of the coming Parliament perplexedhim, and drawing nearer to a light he studied the letter carefully. 

"Thou hast done well, " said he, suddenly turning to Monteagle, "inplacing this paper in my hands without delay, yet----" he laid afinger on the letter, "perchance 'tis nothing, or--there may be muchbehind these ill-written lines. Thou perceivest that herein iswritten: 'for the danger is passed as soon as you have burned theletter!' What then can be the use of such a warning? as, hadst thouput the sheet to fire, there had been no danger. "

"'Tis beyond my comprehension, " replied Monteagle, "'tis a riddle. "

Salisbury looked up quickly. Despite his assumed indifference at thetime, the former conversation with the ex-Catholic nobleman hadaroused in his mind suspicions that some danger might lurk beneath thecalm which had lulled the King into a feeling of security. Heunderstood well that, although there had been no open manifestationsof treason on the part of zealous adherents to the Catholic faith inEngland, there were among them men who but awaited opportunity to showin no gentle way, their displeasure at the policy of James. Heremembered also, that Monteagle had been a Catholic, though now a firmpartisan of the government and in high favor at Whitehall. Might itnot be possible that some knowledge coming to him of a plot againstthe State, and, not wishing to openly accuse his former compatriots, he had taken a more subtle way, seeking by veiled warnings and hints, to arouse suspicion in the other's mind, and so lead to some action onthe part of the government? Yet, it was not in accordance with hispolicy to reveal his real thoughts; therefore, again thanking theother for his zeal with reference to the letter, he dismissed him witha promise that the matter should not be forgotten. 

After Monteagle had left he again studied the missive, endeavoring toread between the lines, and bringing all his wit to bear upon themeaning. Then, as it was his custom to work quietly and without haste, for six days he held the document before making it known to the King. 

James was at first alarmed, but upon perceiving that the Ministerretained his calmness, he put aside his fears and questionedSalisbury closely concerning the meaning of the strange warning. Inthe latter's mind was no thought of arousing James to hasty action, for, if in truth a plot was brewing, too sudden a movement on the partof the government would warn those engaged in it, and only postponethe culmination to a more favorable opportunity. Following this lineof thought the Prime Minister calmed the sovereign's fears, and theKing, trusting to the prudence and shrewdness of his chief counselor, dismissed the matter with a jest. 

Report, indeed, reached the ears of Winter, Catesby and others of theconspirators, that Lord Monteagle had been warned to absent himselffrom Parliament on the opening day. They were alarmed for a time, andsought solution of the problem, wishing to know who had played thetraitor. Suspicion pointed to one Francis Tresham, whose sister hadmarried Monteagle, and who, naturally, would seek to save hisbrother-in-law. But as Tresham denied all knowledge of the matter, thegovernment made no move, and even Salisbury, usually alert, remainedinactive. After a week of uncertainty, the conspirators again gatheredtheir forces and the plot against the King and Parliament continued toripen. Fawkes, beyond all others, became more reckless. 

"Should all else fail, " said he, "I remain firm; and at the end willkill this King even, if needful, in the royal bedchamber. "

CHAPTER XX. 

ON THE STROKE OF ELEVEN. 

"What, my daughter, up at this late hour!" exclaimed Fawkes, as heentered the room where Elinor sat. "I had deemed thee long abed. "

The man threw himself into a chair by the fire with an air of fatigue, and sat in moody silence. The girl glanced up; then arising, passedover to him and lightly kissed his brow. The caress did not meet withany response; in fact, he seemed scarcely conscious of it, and after amoment's hesitation, Elinor resumed her seat. 

She had led a strange existence for the past eight months;--everwaiting, ever dreading, and as yet nothing had occurred. To her thisperiod had been one of breathless suspense, like the moment before thestorm, when trees hang lifeless in a stifling atmosphere, and animalsraise their heads in frightened expectancy, awaiting with namelessterror the first gust which shall herald the tornado. Since herfather's return from France, she noted that the air of preoccupationapparent before his departure, was now intensified. While in hiskindness toward her the girl could detect no change, still, there hadcome between them a species of estrangement. Seldom was there anopportunity for them to converse, for Fawkes was up before daylight, and rarely returned until after the midnight hour had sounded. Oftenit was in her heart to ask his confidence--often to hint that she hadoverheard his words on that fearful night, --but when she approachedwith such intent, a nameless something in his manner held her mute. 

The source from which she had hoped would flow sweet waters of comfortand relief proved dry and arid as summer dust; he to whom in anoutburst of anguish she had confided her grief vanished completelyfrom her life, as though the earth had engulfed him. True, Garnetvisited her many times after the night she unburdened her heart tohim, but his counsel was ever the same--to wait; at times she evenimagined there was in his tones a hint at justification of herfather's utterance. However, since the day on which Fawkes hadreturned, the Jesuit had never passed the threshold of the house. Howto account for this absence she knew not, but in a vague wayassociated it with the mystery surrounding her father. 

Winter, Elinor had not seen; her wonder at his studious avoidance ofher was matched by the terror with which she anticipated meeting him. And her first grief?--the forced sacrifice of life's happiness withthe man she loved--had time been kind, and stilled the aching of herheart? No; for in it the flame burned as brightly as when upon thatday, long ago, his first kiss had breathed upon the glowing spark, changing it into a tongue of flame which leaped to her very lips. Where Effingston had gone, she did not know, but her prayers were everthe same, that in the abyss wherein lay her own fair fame he shouldcast his love;--so grief for him would cease to exist. 

At last the silence of the room was broken by the man before the fire, who turned toward her, and, as if but just noting her presence, said, drowsily: "Daughter, methinks such late hours ill befit thee. It hathlong since struck twelve; thou hast already lost thy beauty sleep. "

Elinor arose, laid aside the work with which she had been employed, passed over to Fawkes, then stooped and kissed him. As her lipstouched his, he reached up, took her face between his hands and gazingat her said, after a moment: "My pretty one, if at any time deathshould take thy father from thee, wouldst ever cease to love him?"

The girl started; for the words had broken strangely in upon herthoughts. Evidently the man beheld the shocked look, for he continued, putting his arm about her slight form and pressing it close to him, "Nay, my daughter, thou needst not be alarmed at what I say, for--for'twas nothing. Thou knowest in years I do grow apace, and 'twould besmall wonder if death did perchance tap me on the shoulder and say, 'Thou art the man!' There, there, little one, " he added kissing her, "thou needst not reply; I can read an answer in thy eyes. "

"And, prithee, didst ever doubt my love for thee?" whispered the girl, as she gently placed her arms about his neck. 

"Nay, never!" answered Fawkes, quickly, in a husky voice, "but--but'tis sweet to hear thee tell thy love, and, " he added, taking one ofher white hands within his own, "thou art all I have. If at any timedeath should steal thee from thy father's arms, methinks he would soonfollow in thy light footsteps. "

"Much happiness it doth give me to hear from thee such words, " thegirl replied, "even though they have but solemn import. "

"And dost thy father's affection need repetition? Surely, thou knowest'tis all thine own. " For an instant there was silence, broken only bythe crackling logs. Then the girl said, as though dwelling upon hiswords: "Nay, I never doubted thee--but--but----"

"But what, my daughter?" Fawkes asked, tenderly, pressing her fingersto his lips. 

"Well, perchance, " she answered with a smile, "I did but wish, likethee, to hear again the confession of it. "

His only response was the pressing of her figure closer to his heart. 

"Tell me, " she began after a moment, in a hesitating voice, casting ahalf-timid glance at her father's face; "dost think one ever speakswords from anger that--well, that in calmer moments he would give aworld to unsay?"

"What brought such question to thy mind, daughter?" enquired the otherwith a smile of surprise. 

"Perchance 'tis but a causeless query, " she replied, smoothing histumbled locks. 

"Many foolish things are spoke in passion, " said Fawkes; "things whichleave a lifetime of regret behind. I do remember that once, in thisvery room, my temper did o'erleap its bounds and lent my tongue wordswhich I would give a year of sweet life to unsay. Dost know mymeaning, darling?" he inquired, looking at her with moisture in hiseyes. "'Twas when I had not long arrived from Spain; in truth, 'twason the very night when thou----"

"Nay, I will not hear thee repeat, " she interrupted, laying her handupon his mouth. "I know all, but thou canst not think how happy thisdoth make me. "

"Didst thou imagine I could mean those wicked words?" asked the mantenderly, "'Twas a sudden outburst of temper on hearing--well, well, since thy dainty fingers forbid my speech I will be mute. "

"See!" cried Elinor, springing to her feet, in the first happiness ofher relieved mind. "Now thou shalt hear me laugh and sing all throughthe day, till thou wilt cry mercy. And mayhap some time thou and I, "continued the girl, seating herself beside him, "shall leave thischilly land with all its cares and fly to a fairer country, where coldwinds are not known, where sweet flowers do ever bloom, and we willlove each other; in that, forget all else, and in forgetting; beforever happy and at rest. "

"Perchance, some day, " murmured the man. "But now, one more caress andthou must to thy bed, or 'twill be light ere thou art in dreamland. "

She arose, a bright smile upon her face--brighter than he had seenresting there for many a day. 

"Ah!" she cried, once more throwing her arms about him, "would that Icould give to thee the happiness thy words have brought to me. "

"And so thou canst, " replied the man, suddenly. 

"How may that be done?--tell me quickly!" she exclaimed, playfully, "that I may the sooner begin. "

"It is, sweet Elinor, " said Fawkes, gazing down into her eyes, "thatthou wilt always love this man before thee--nay, even, " he continuedwith a depth of feeling in his tone which she had never heard before, "even shouldst thou hear him branded as--as--no matter what manner ofthings might be uttered against him, thou art always to remember thathe at least loved thee with all his heart, and that thou wert hislife. " He stopped abruptly; the tears which coursed down his sternface seemed strangely out of place. 

"Ah!" exclaimed the girl, "I cannot bear to have thee doubt me; thouknowest I shall be ever thy loving daughter, even unto the end of thislife and in the next. "

The man was silent for a space; then mastering his emotion, andpassing a hand quickly across his face, he said: "Think naught of mywords, little one; they were but idle, born of fatigue. Now, once moregood night to thee, and a long, sweet sleep. "

So she left him; but at the door she turned, and Fawkes rememberedafterward the bright and happy smile which lay upon her face. 

With a light heart she went to rest, for her father's words hadbanished from her mind the hideous doubt with which it had so longbeen oppressed. The dreadful gulf between them had, at last, beenbridged, and once more they stood together hand in hand as in daysgone by. She was almost unwilling to yield herself to sleep, fearinglest, on awaking, she might find her happiness but a vision of thenight. Slumber claimed her at last, and she fell into dreams of hernew-found joy. Many hours elapsed and the morning sun shone brightlyinto her room, when there fell upon the girl's ear the sound of voicesin the apartment below. Remaining a moment in a dreamy state, wondering who the early visitors might be, she suddenly caught asentence which stiffened the blood within her veins and brought backto her heart in deadly force the awful fears she had thought forevergone. Those in the chamber beneath had evidently been in conversationfor some time, for she heard them advancing toward the door as thoughto depart. Then a voice, which the girl recognized as Sir ThomasWinter's, said in a low tone: "Now, the last arrangements are made;all doth await thy hand. Ah, " he continued, "would that I might seethe outcome of this. 'Tis a ghastly thing, even though it be----"

"What?" interrupted another voice, which Elinor knew to be herfather's. "Doth thy heart begin to turn at this late hour? Marry, myone wish is that even now the clock stood on the stroke of eleven, forin five minutes thereafter England will be without its King andParliament. "

"Hast all that thou wilt need?" inquired Winter. 

"Yea, verily, " the other answered. "Here are flint and steel, quitenew. The touchwood and the lantern are hidden beneath the faggots inthe cellar. But stay, thou hadst better lend me thy time-piece; mineis not over trustworthy, and I would keep accurate track of themoments. "

"Here is the watch, " said the other voice; "it was true to the secondyesterday. And now, for the last time, dost fully understand thesignal? It is to be the first stroke of eleven. The King is expectedat half after the hour of ten; that will leave thirty minutes' margin, and the lords will have assembled before James doth take his place. "

"Knowest thou, " inquired Fawkes, when Winter had ceased, "what may bethe first measure before the House?"

"Methinks, " replied the man, "one Lord Effingston will speak upon abill relating to the duty upon wool. " And he added, with a laugh whichthe girl could distinctly hear, "perchance his fine words will beinterrupted, if thy tinder be not damp. "

"Thou needst have no fear of that, " answered Fawkes, gruffly. "But letus hence, for 'tis even now past the stroke of ten. "

She heard them pass quickly out, and soon their footsteps died away inthe distance. Elinor lay for a moment dazed, --the blow had fallen! Thewords he had uttered but a few short hours ago were a lie, uttered toblind her. She recoiled in horror from even the thoughts of that manwith the black and treacherous heart. He was now a father but in name;all her love turned to that other man, who, in that very moment, wasstanding over a hell which awaited but the hand of Fawkes to send itbelching forth. Was there yet time to save him? All her energies bentthemselves to this one purpose. She arose and dressed hurriedly, forming her plan of action the meanwhile. A sudden terror came uponher. If by some accident the mine should be prematurely exploded, whatthen? But she recollected the cautious man who was to fire it, and thethought quieted her. The bell in a neighboring steeple chimed thequarter after ten. Forty-five minutes only remained, --barely time, ifshe hastened her utmost, to reach the Parliament buildings beforeeleven would ring out upon the air. She was soon ready and hastenedtoward the door, her trembling fingers scarce able, in theireagerness, to lift the latch. At last they found the cord, but theportal held firmly to its place. Again she tried, putting forth allher strength. Still it did not yield. The horrible truth flashed uponthe girl; the heavy door was securely fastened from the outside!

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER. 

As Elinor stood confronted by the barred door, a madness born ofterror seized her. Frantically she beat upon the panel until in placesthe wood was stained with her blood. Again and again she threw herselfagainst the heavy oak, but with no result. After many vain attemptsshe sank, almost fainting, to the floor. 

As she lay breathless, her tender hands bruised and bleeding, therefell upon her ear the echo of the chime once more;--ten thirty! Thesound infused new life into her slight form. Springing to her feet sheseized a bench near by, and with a power almost superhuman, raised theheavy piece and struck the portal with all her might. A shower of dustrewarded her. Another blow and a wide fissure appeared across thepanel. Once more the bench crashed against the door, and it gave way, a shower of splinters flying into the hall below. Quickly she hasteneddown the stairs and gained the street. People turned wondering looksupon the flying girl as with strength born of desperation she spedtoward Parliament House. As she reached the neighborhood a group ofmen who stood engaged in conversation, noted her, and one drew forthhis watch:--"There is one carrying a petition, " said he; "but fifteenminutes yet remain before the opening of the House. "

The words quickened her energies; a quarter of an hour yet!

In a moment she was in sight of the buildings. It had been herpurpose to hasten to the hall, but suddenly flashed the thought thather entrance might be barred, and questions be asked. No time now butfor one thing, --to seek her father in the cellar, and snatch the torchfrom out his hand.... The clock marked the hour of half past ten whenFawkes, having taken leave of Sir Thomas Winter, reached the door ofthe dark room under Parliament House. As he had left it, so he foundit;--the portal locked, and silence reigning within where lay thefaggots and the gunpowder. The soldier of fortune glanced about. Savefor a few idlers the narrow passage flanking the cellar door wasunoccupied. Soon even those went on their way, and unobserved heopened the portal and slipped into the fatal chamber, closing itnoiselessly behind him, but leaving it unbarred; for, the spark onceapplied to the powder, there would be scant time for escape. Thecellar was in darkness save where, through the rusty bars of a smallwindow, a feeble ray of light struggled with the gloom, losing itselfamid the shadows. 

Stepping carefully, that no footfall might reach the ears of anyabove, he groped his way along the rough stone wall. Upon reaching adepression in the masonry, he took up from its hiding place a lantern, a rude affair formed of iron, pierced by countless holes, and withinit a tallow candle, which, when he lighted it, sputtered fitfully andsent forth a sickly yellow light, the glare only serving to intensifythe gloom. A rat, frightened by his approach, scurried into some darkcorner with a plaintive squeak which startled him, despite his ironnerve. 

"Faith!" he muttered, a grim smile relaxing for a moment the sternlines of his face, "thou art strangely nervous, Guido, that such athing doth make thee tremble! 'Tis an adage that such vermin as I havedisturbed make haste to leave a fatal ship, and, methinks, this Shipof State is very near the rocks. 'Tis a sign from heaven that I shallnot fail. " Then, turning to the pile of faggots: "So innocent are ye, that even Elinor, with all her gentleness, might bear you in her armsand take no harm; but----" here he bent and touched a hidden cask:"thou art more to my liking, and the King shall hear thee speak forme. Thine is the voice which shall tell all England that----"

For a moment the monologue was interrupted and he busied himself withthe fuse, pouring from a flask taken from his doublet, fresh grains ofpowder upon the train already laid, that nothing should be lacking tospeed the fire to its destination. 

Overhead sounded countless footsteps, as the pages and attendants uponthe floor of the Parliament chamber hastened hither and thither upontheir various errands. 

"My good lords and bishops are assembling, " muttered Fawkes; "a mostgallant gathering, I warrant. Pity 'tis, that all must perish; forthere be some who have small voice in the passing of the laws. "

Suddenly there fell upon his ear the muffled sound of a cheer raisedby countless voices. The smile upon his lips grew scornful: "TheKing!" he muttered, "greeting his good Parliament. 'Tis said he lovesa well-timed jest; pity to rob England of such a famous clown;perchance in hell the devil may use his wit to while away the dinnerhour. "

The noise above increased; the peers had entered the hall; the Kinghad ascended the throne, and it lacked but fifteen minutes to thefirst stroke of eleven, when the Parliament would open--and the flintwould kiss the steel. 

Despite his hardihood the man waiting in the gloom beneath the feet ofthe sovereign and his noblemen grew restless as the fatal momentapproached. Through his brain flashed thoughts of the fearfulconsequence of his bloody deed, --the terror, the widespreadconsternation and the chaos which would follow the destruction of theParliament. To him came, also, the thought of his daughter--what shewould say to him; but then--she was a child and little comprehendedaffairs of State. When all was over Garnet would quiet her fears, andher father would be a hero in her eyes. 

Unconsciously he drew forth his dagger and pricked with its point themortar between the stones of the pillar against which he leaned. Withsomething to occupy his mind the moments would speed faster. Thelantern, burning dimly, stands upon the floor near his side; beyondlies the fuse, ready for the fire. 

Just at this moment Elinor, having reached the door of the cellar, paused an instant upon the threshold, then, scarce conscious of whatshe was doing pushed open the unbarred portal and stepped within thegloomy chamber. So silent was her coming that Fawkes, busy with hisdagger and the mortar, did not perceive it. The girl hesitated, trembling in every limb; the blackness of the place, the intenseexcitement under which she labored, and the fearful thought thatalready the fuse might be burning, her father gone, and death so near, held her spellbound. She saw the faint glimmer from the lantern, ahundred tiny streaks of light glowing through the darkness. Her fathermust be there beside his light, and summoning all her energies shemoves quickly forward, intent only upon accomplishing her mission. 

The rustle of her garments struck upon Fawkes' ear. He turned and sawthe half open door, the dim outline of the form which stood betweenhim and the faint light struggling through the aperture. With a quickindrawing of the breath he grasped the hilt of his dagger and turnedto face the advancing figure. Shall anyone thus ruin all, at theeleventh hour? His nerves became as if made of steel, all signs ofindecision vanish; face to face with danger he becomes once more thehardened veteran who has met unflinchingly the fierce charge of thefoemen in the Lowcountry. 

Elinor at length perceived him whom she sought, and stretched out herhands to grasp him, for the dry lips refused to frame the words hertongue would utter. 

In that moment, noting the extended arms, and thinking the other wouldlay violent hands upon him, Fawkes sprang forward and seized the frailform about the shoulders; small time to note the softness of the fleshand the clinging woman's garments, or the low cry which answers thegrasp of his iron hand. The blackness of the place hides their faces, and his business is to carry out the plot. 

For a moment the two--father and daughter--are locked together in afirm embrace; the slender figure of the child bent and tortured by thecruel pressure of the pitiless fingers. She struggled desperately, andin her efforts to free herself Fawkes finds the way to end the matterquickly. 

"Thou wouldst undo the work, " he hisses. "Didst think to find meunprepared? Thou art a cunning knave, but this----"

No eye, save that of God, sees the uplifting of the dagger, the quickmovement of the arm, the rapid thrust which drives the fatal steelinto that tender breast, letting forth her life-blood upon the roughpavement of the cellar. 

Elinor reeled and released her hold upon him. In her agony Godstretched forth His hand and held her in His grasp so that, ere shedied, the end for which she had come might be accomplished. One word, a bitter cry wrung from her heart, escaped her lips: "Father!"

But Fawkes heeded it not. As he sent home the dagger his foot struckthe lantern, overturning it, and sent the iron case with its burningcontents rolling across the floor toward the powder train. In anotherinstant the fire will have reached the fuse, --and 'tis not yet time!

With a frantic push he hurled the victim of his murderous blow awayfrom him, and hastened to snatch the sputtering light. His violenceflung the stricken girl to the floor, but with a last effort of will, she staggered to her feet and groped blindly for the door, one littlehand outstretched before her, the other covering the cruel wound madeby her father's knife. 

At last she found the portal, and gained the narrow way to the street. There was but one thought in her heart, --to reach the hall abovebefore death claimed her. 

 * * * * *

Within the House of Lords all was ready for the opening of theParliament. James, clothed in royal robes of State, and exchangingjests with his favorites, was lolling upon the throne. The peers werein their seats; some, deep in conversation, others, silently gazing atthe gorgeous scene of which they were a part. At a table standing nearthe space before the throne, sat Lord Monteagle and his son, thelatter engaged in arranging the notes of his speech on the bill whichhe was soon to bring before the House. Effingston seemed to bestrangely nervous as the hour for his address drew near and hisfather had evidently made some jesting remark concerning his tremuloushand, when suddenly the attention of all was drawn toward the greatdoors at the extreme end of the room. Affected by the tumult, Jamesturned impatiently to see who had dared disturb the solemnity of thehour. Those who were looking in that direction started with amazement. 

Through the open portal, flanked by its two rows of yeomen of theguard, advanced a slender girlish figure, with face white as marbleand whose dark eyes sought the King. Clad in a gown of some soft graystuff which had been torn open at the throat, revealing the gentlecurve of the white bosom, the girl staggered up the long aisle leadingto the throne. Between the fingers of the hand pressed above her heartshowed a crimson stain which, touching the bodice of her dress, gradually spread itself upon the soft color. 

Amazed at so unwonted a spectacle the peers could only stare, transfixed. The girl had reached the space before the throne andstopped beside the table at which Effingston stood, who alone, of allthe House, had started to his feet and confronted her. For one briefmoment she gazed into his eyes, then stretched forth her hand. Thewhite lips parted, she cried in a stifled voice:

"My lords! flee the House ere----"

The voice fell to a whisper, she reeled and sought to grasp the tablefor support. Effingston sprang toward her, but before he reached herside, her form sank slowly to the floor and lay at his feet. Unmindfulof the presence of the King, and of his fellow peers, the youngnobleman raised her in his arms. None beside Lord Monteagle heard himwhisper:--"Elinor!"

At her name the closed lids opened, and her lips parted in a faintsmile. 

"My love!" she murmured faintly, her head sinking upon his shoulderlike that of a tired child slowly falling to sleep. "I amguiltless--thou alone--'twas for thy sake----"

A spasm of pain swept across her face; he felt a shudder shake theslender form, and a beseeching look sought his face. 

"I understand, my darling, " he whispered, pressing his lips to hers. 

She sighed. A happy light shone in the fast glazing eyes. 

"Elinor!" he murmured. "One more word----"

But God had taken her. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

FAWKES BEFORE THE KING. 

For a moment a great stillness pervaded the House of Lords. The Kinghad half arisen from the throne, his hands tightly grasping the gildedlions on either side, and his eyes fixed upon the dead form of Elinor, lying at Effingston's feet. All followed the monarch's glance, theministers and peers leaning forward to better see the stricken girlgrowing rigid in the clasp of death. So profound was the silence inthe great hall, that the footsteps of those without were heard withstartling distinctness in every part of the room. Before all thepeers, leaned Lord Monteagle, his gaze riveted upon the face of hisson. As for Effingston he heeded nothing; like an image of stone hestood, his limbs powerless and his blood turned to ice; the face ofthe dead was not whiter than his, yet, upon her face was the smile ofpeace, in his, the shadow of conscious, mortal agony. 

So sudden had been the coming of that tender maid, born of the people, but now more noble than any lord of England, that none save, perchance, Salisbury, Monteagle and the King, comprehended itsmeaning. The girl's dying cry that all should flee the House ofParliament, was a mystery to the lords; but to the mind of the PrimeMinister, and to Monteagle and James, came as by a flash of lightning, the veiled meaning in the letter, which, strong in his feeling ofsecurity, the King had hitherto looked upon as an idle jest, gotten upto disturb his dreams. Raising his eyes from the spot where Elinorlay, her blood staining the polished floor, he turned them uponSalisbury, with a look of interrogation. The Minister collected by aneffort his scattered senses. Into his mind came as though by Divineinspiration some inkling of the nature of the threatened danger. Turning quickly, he summoned to his side Master Edmond Doubleday, anofficer of the royal household. 

"Go, " said he hoarsely, "into the cellar, and whosoever thou findestthere, be it man or woman, seize quickly. Perchance the King's lifedependeth upon thy expedition. "

Of quick wit, the officer comprehended that his superior had surmisedsome plot, the solution of which might be found below. Hastening fromthe hall he gathered on the way a dozen gentlemen, and together thecompany hurried from the House and sought the door which opened to thechamber under it. Something guided their steps--great, crimsonsplashes upon the pavement, blood drops which left a well-marked trailfrom the space before the throne of the King--to the narrow entranceof the cellar wherein lay the danger which they must avert. Little didGuido Fawkes know--as little had the dead girl comprehended--that herheart's blood would mark the way which would lead him to the scaffoldbecause it would be the means of hastening on his enemies, directingthem with no uncertain significance to his hiding place. 

In the semi-darkness of the cellar, amid his coals and faggots, withthe six and thirty barrels of gunpowder ready for the spark, thedaring soldier of fortune stood with trembling limbs, and a namelessterror at his heart. Unflinching in the face of danger, the first inall deeds of hardihood, famed for his valor in the Lowcountry, theoverturning of the lantern so near the powder train, and the low cryof agony which followed the driving home of his dagger, had unnervedhim. For one brief instant he thought he recognized the cry--that fromthe gasping lips so near his own had fallen the word "father!" but inthe excitement of the moment he dismissed the dreadful thought. Someidle, curious knave had chanced to see the cellar door, and entered. Was it his fault that he had resorted to the knife to prevent thediscovery of his presence?

Occupied with the overturned lantern he had noted little what befellthe other. Stabbed to death, the intruder probably lay in some darkcorner where the soldier's frantic push had sent him. The lanternburned dimly, and time was speeding, so 'twould be an ill thing towaste it upon a dead man. Steadying his nerves by an effort, Fawkestook out the watch which Winter had given him, and bending toward theflickering light studied the dial. The hour was at hand; in fiveminutes the great clock in the tower of St. Paul would mark the strokeof eleven, and he would fire the fuse. 

Searching in his doublet he drew forth a tinder box and touchwood. Five minutes more and he would strike the spark; in five more the red, spitting serpent would reach the hidden powder; by then he would besafe, and, mingling with the crowd, would hear the roar of thunderheralding the passing of James Stuart and his Parliament intoeternity. 

As he waited, the flint held ready to strike the steel, there flashedthrough his mind the thought of his daughter, but she was safe athome, and----The sound of hasty footsteps and the passing of darkforms before the dim light struggling through the half closed entranceto the cellar, broke his revery. Was it another come to meet hisknife point?

As he drew back, shading the lantern with his cloak, the door wasburst violently open, and a dozen men, the first holding aloft atorch, pushed into the cellar. Fawkes thrust the flint and touchwoodinto the bosom of his doublet, and, ever cool when danger threatened, bent carelessly over the pile of coals and faggots. Coming thus, without knowledge, any might have judged him an honest coal mongerbusy at his trade. 

Those who entered so hastily rushed upon him; Edmond Doubleday raiseda dagger, intent upon driving it into his body, but seeing Fawkesunarmed he lowered the steel and seized him by the shoulders. In aninstant the soldier shook off the other's grasp. 

"Who art thou?" cried he fiercely, "what is thy business, sir?"

For reply Doubleday turned to his companions. "Surround the fellow, gentlemen, " said he sharply, "and search the cellar. "

Fawkes was quickly hemmed in by a wall of men, each with drawn swordin hand. On the instant it flashed upon him that the plot was known, and that further dissimulation would be profitless; therefore he heldhis peace while two or three of his captors searched the cellar. Onemuttered an exclamation; he had come upon the fuse, and following it, perceived the barrels beneath the pile of faggots. Fawkes smiledgrimly. 

"If thou wilt look yet further, " said he, "haply thou wilt find a deadman. "

But nothing was discovered save Fawkes, his faggots, and thegunpowder. 

The captive started. He had not then killed him who grappled with himin the darkness; sorely wounded, the other had escaped to set thebloodhounds upon his hiding place. He had thought his hand more sure. 

After thoroughly searching the cellar those who had taken Fawkes ledhim to the passage without. He noted upon the stones the drops ofblood, and smiled, --his knife had not been useless after all. As thelittle company with the soldier of fortune in their midst hurriedalong the passage there ran toward them Sir Thomas Knyvet and half ascore of the royal guards. Perceiving the prisoner, the knight lookedat him critically. 

"What!" cried he, turning to Doubleday, "hast not bound the ruffian?'Tis the King's pleasure that any whom thou hast taken be broughtbefore the throne. "

No cords were forthcoming, for, in their haste, small matters had beenneglected, but one of the gentlemen, taking from his pocket a pair ofgarters proffered them to Doubleday. 

"Take these, " said he; "I warrant they will hold the knave. "

Fawkes submitted without a protest, watching with grim indifferencethe passing of the garters about his legs and wrists. Once he smiled;but 'twas a fleeting shadow. Within the House his captors searchedhim, coming upon the tinder box, touchwood, and Winter's watch--thingswhich were to bear heavy evidence against the prisoner. 

In the hall of Parliament all was confusion; Elinor, guarded byEffingston, still lay dead before the throne, and the ministers weregathered about it. 

The tumult ceased as Fawkes was led through the doorway. He was tomeet the King whom he would have slain, yet he advanced with upliftedhead, not a muscle quivering. The peers made way for him, so that aspace was cleared before the throne. Suddenly his eyes fell uponEffingston; for an instant he paused, then following the gaze of thegrief-stricken nobleman, saw her who lay upon the floor. A mistgathered before his eyes; a blinding flash of unreal but fierceaccusing light seared his brain and turned him into stone. Horror-stricken he advanced, scarce conscious that he moved, until hestood before the body of his daughter upon whose breast showed the redwound made by the knife. The King, Salisbury, and the ministers hadturned and were looking fixedly upon him, but Fawkes was unconsciousof their gaze. He saw only the white face, the half-closed eyes, thecold lips which had kissed his own so fondly and called him "father. "

As the flashing of a great light coming out of the darkness, the truthgleamed in its red horror upon him--the reason of the presence ofanother in the cellar, the drops of blood along the pavement. She hadsought to save him from the crime of murder--and he had killed her!

He would have cried out and thrown himself upon his knees beside thedead, but his iron will controlled the impulse, and the hands of theguard upon his shoulder held him firm. What cared he for axe or gibbetnow? He had loved her next to his religion, and had slain her. TheKing was speaking:

"Ah!" said he, "what have we here, brave gentlemen? Doth tremble so atthe sight of one dead girl? Who art thou, fellow?"

Fawkes replied nothing, nor, perchance, heard the voice of James; histhoughts were in Spain, where, when a child, Elinor had climbed uponhis knee. 

"Faith!" cried the King, "hast caught a dumb man, good MasterDoubleday? or hath the decoration of the garter so overcome his sensesthat he is in a maze?"

Some of the gentlemen about the throne smiled, for James loved a jest;but Effingston turned away and pressed his father's hand. 

"Come!" cried the King, impatiently; "wilt not find thy tongue? 'tisnot my custom to speak a second time. What didst thou in the cellar?"

Fawkes raised his eyes and the King saw in them a look of such utterhopelessness that some chord of pity in his heart was touched. 

"My good Lord Cecil, " said he, turning to Salisbury, "methinks terror, or something worse, hath driven away his wits; we but waste words uponhim. See to it, pray, that he be closely guarded, for certainquestions must be put to him. The Warden of the Tower hath a way toloosen stubborn tongues. "

So saying, he arose with much dignity and left the hall, followed bymany of his gentlemen. Fawkes they took out by another way--the roadwhich led to the Tower. He gave no sign, but let his gaze dwell in onelast farewell upon the body of his daughter. Then his eyes met thoseof Effingston, and in the other's look he read that the dead wouldrest in peace and honor. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE BANQUET. 

On the evening of that memorable Fifth of November, there weregathered in a spacious residence at Ashbery, Saint Ledger, a smallcompany evidently bent upon pleasure. 

During the day they had passed their time in the many ways gentlemenwere wont to choose when seeking forgetfulness of the din anddistractions incident to a great city. But it was not difficult todiscern that the hearts of the men were far from interested in thevarious sports undertaken by them. 

The hours from morning until dark had been spent in a variety of ways, but none evinced any enjoyment in their pastime. A few had beguiled asmall part of the day in hunting, but they failed to find even in thatexcitement relief for the anxiety which so oppressed them. At lasttwilight came, lingered, and glided into night. But with the darknessthe uneasiness of all increased. 

Nor would this fact have caused wonder had it been known what thoughtslay in the mind of each; that they were momentarily expecting tidingsupon which depended not only their hopes and happiness but, perchancetheir lives as well. Indeed, the company had been bidden thither bynone other than Lord Catesby, who deemed it expedient that those notactually engaged in carrying out the plot for the assassination ofJames and his Parliament, should tarry at his country residence untilnews of the accomplished deed should be brought them. Acting upon thesuggestion, he, together with Sir Everard Digsby, Rookwood, RobertMorgan, Grant and the brother of Sir Thomas Winter, had ridden forthfrom the city the day before; and now, with apprehension which theirsanguine hopes could not fully thrust aside, they awaited the newswhich was to tell them how the fearful plot had prospered. 

After a day, the length of which was measured not by the standard ofmoments but by that of slow-moving years, all had assembled to partakeof the evening repast. Surrounding the glittering table were anxiousand thoughtful faces. The host was silent and distraught, but not moreso than his guests. The terrible strain under which they laboredforbade much conversation; and if a laugh, perchance, mounted to thelips of any, it sounded hollow and mirthless. 

"What now, good gentlemen, " cried Catesby, with an attempt at gayety, when silence had again fallen upon the group; "ye are in truth butsorry companions. It would appear that something besides good vintagelay in the cellar beneath us. Come, fill your cups and let wine bringto our lips the jest, since wit seemeth utterly barren. "

"Nay, my lord, " exclaimed Rookwood, as he thrust his glass aside; "Ifor one am done with pretensions; 'tis time some news did reach us. "The man drew forth his watch, and glancing at it, said with a frown:"By Our Blessed Lady, 'tis past nine and we have had no tidings!"

The anxiety in the speaker's tone seemed to find a silent response inthe heart of each. Before them all the wine stood untasted. A barkingcur upon the highway caused them to start to their feet and listen, thinking the sound might be the herald of an approaching horseman. "'Twas nothing, " said the host wearily, when once more seated. "Patience, patience, gentlemen; I think this delay doth not bode illto us, for as ye are aware, bad news is ever atop of the swifteststeed. "

"Ah, good Catesby, " exclaimed Digsby, "it is to thee we look forconsolation in this terrible hour. But I do most devoutly wish someintelligence, be it good or evil, would arrive; for naught can beworse than this awful waiting. "

"Talk not of evil tidings, " broke in Grant, nervously; "our minds arefull enough of fears without thy----"

"Nay, good Robert, " interrupted Sir Everard, "'twas but a figure ofspeech I used. Nothing is further from my mind than to play thecroaking prophet. "

"Art sure, my lord, " queried Rookwood, "that Sir Winter did comprehendin what manner the intelligence was to be brought?"

"Quite certain of it, " answered the host; "for 'twas the last topicupon which we spoke before I left the city. Have no fear; heunderstood full well that Master Keyes was to ride post haste themoment all was accomplished. "

"How long would it take a horseman, riding at his best speed, totravel the distance?" enquired Rookwood, again drawing forth hiswatch. 

"If nothing occurred to hinder on the way, and his mount was fresh atstart, methinks the journey should be made in eight hours. "

"Then, " exclaimed the other, thrusting back his time-piece, "if all bewell we would have heard ere now. I fear me--nay--I know not what Ifear. "

But hark! What sound is that which at last falls upon the listeninggroup? Was it the wind sighing through the leafless trees? Nay, itcannot be; for now they hear it again, and more distinctly. There isno mistaking the flying hoofs of a horse striking the hard road. Allspring from the table. The moment has arrived; they are to know. Aseach gazes into the white face of the other, he but beholds thereflection of his own pallid countenance, and speech for a moment isimpossible. 

"God!" cried Rookwood, listening; "Catesby, thou didst say but onerider was to bear the message, and I hear the noise of several rushingsteeds, if, indeed, I be not mad. "

Louder and louder grew the clatter of the hoofs, whiter and whiter thefaces of the waiting men. At last five horsemen dash in at the gateand ride without drawing rein across the lawn and up to the verywindow of the banquet room. 

No need to ask what tidings. Winter is the first to throw himself fromhis steaming horse, and followed by Percy, the two Wrights and RobertKeyes, staggers into the room. They are covered with mud and streamingwith perspiration. Their hats and swords were left behind--evidentlylost in the wild ride from London. Breathless they stand, for a momentunable to speak. Written on the face of each is an expression of utterdespair, mingled with fear and pain, such a look as an animal wearswhen, shot through the body, it blindly flees from death. 

Winter is the first to find voice; and clutching at the table, whichshakes under his trembling grasp, pants, in a tone which is scarcelyaudible:

"Flee for your lives! There is yet time for us to escape. We cannothelp him who is in the Tower. Our own necks will pay for furtherdelay. "

There is a horrified silence, broken only by the hard breathing ofthe men. At last Rookwood, pale with emotion, sprang toward thespeaker, gasping: "What is this thou sayest? Failure! It cannot be!Thou must be mad!"

"Nay, " cried Percy, "'tis so, 'tis so, indeed. Fawkes is captured. Nothing is left for us but flight. Come, to horse! to horse! I say. Even now the soldiers are on the road, and any moment the sound ofhurrying hoofs in pursuit of us may fall upon our ears. "

In an instant the utmost disorder reigned. Chairs were overturned inthe eagerness of the men to take in hand their swords, which restedagainst the wall. Glasses, swept from off the board, fell with acrash, adding to the general din. The floor was strewn with eatablesand wine, carried from off the table in the mad rush. Panic ruled, andit had placed its sign-manual upon each face. 

At last, above the uproar, the voice of Catesby can be heard, andstanding by the door he addresses the fear-stricken men. "Gentlemen!"he cried, "has the grasp of terror seized upon and turned you all mad?Why should we fly, and by that course brand our deeds as sinful? Arewe criminals? Have we stolen aught? Are we creatures to be huntedthrough the country? Come! play the part God has given to each, and atthe end, since success is not ours let us meet death here, hand inhand, as becomes brothers in one faith--like martyrs!"

The words of the speaker had small effect upon the men, and did notcheck the general confusion. Those who had just arrived were in thegarden attending to their jaded steeds, knowing full well that uponthem depended their lives. 

Rookwood burst again into the room, attired in a heavy ridingmantle. "Come, " he cried to his host; "to horse while there is time!'Twould be a wickedness to tarry longer; it meaneth naught butself-destruction. Our steeds have been resting, and many miles may beplaced between us and London ere break of day. Endanger not all ourlives by thy foolish scruples. "

At last the finer sentiments of Catesby were overruled by the wordsand entreaties of his companions, and he with them, hurried to thestable. With trembling fingers the bridles were fastened, the girthsdrawn, and in a moment all were ready for the flight. With a clatterthe cavalcade sped out of the gate and thundered down the road atbreakneck pace, disappearing in the darkness. 

So ended the day which was to see the culmination of a deed whichthese fleeing men once dreamed would set the world on fire! And whathad come of it? For them, nothing but the dancing sparks struck out bythe hoofs of galloping horses, bearing their guilty riders from underthe blow of a swinging axe. Fawkes, their unhappy tool, was already inthe grip of the avenging power; and was tasting a more bitter gallthan that of torture and death, for that he had, with his own hand, shed the blood of his well-beloved daughter, but not one drop of theheretic blood he so thirsted to spill. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

"IN THE KING'S NAME. "

The bomb having exploded so unexpectedly in the camp of theconspirators, Fawkes a prisoner in the hands of the government, which, following the custom of the day, would probably under torture wringfrom him a confession, the gentlemen who had been so zealous in thecause had now no thought but of flight. So sudden had been theexposure of their plot--laid bare to the eyes of all England at theeleventh hour--that the bold plans for a well-regulated defense wereoverthrown completely, and could not be carried out in any degree. Garnet, indeed, was for the time safe, his hiding place unknown to theauthorities, and did Fawkes resist with physical and moral force thetorture, the Jesuit might not become involved in the consequences ofhis treason. But Catesby, Percy, the two Winters and others stood inthe shadow of the scaffold. That no mercy would be measured out tothem was beyond peradventure. Though of brave spirit, they feared, andcould but flee before, the anger of the law. 

It was indeed a pitiful and chagrined body of horsemen who, hurryingthrough Worcestershire and the adjoining county, sought to hidethemselves from the King's officers. Pausing in their mad flight, theyrifled the house of Lord Windsor, taking such arms and armor as bestsuited their needs. Close after them rode the soldiers of the Kingincited by promise of reward and honor did they capture and deliverthe little band into the hands of Salisbury and his ministers. Oneface was missing from among those fleeing for their lives in such wildhaste. Catesby, Percy, my Lord of Rookwood, the two Wrights, Grant, Morgan and Robert Keyes rode side by side, but Thomas Winter, he whohad summoned Fawkes from Spain, was absent. Small need of wordsbetween the proscribed conspirators. A single purpose was in eachheart--to escape those in pursuit. 

As dull night drew on, the horses jaded, their riders fainting fromfatigue and fear, the luckless gentlemen reached Holbeach, the houseof Stephen Littleton. The early stars were twinkling in the gray vaultof heaven when lights from the welcome asylum greeted their eyes. Percy turned to Catesby, who rode at his side. 

"Good Robert, " said he, "there must we perforce remain till morning;horseflesh can scarce endure the strain much longer, and those whofollow must needs halt, also. Stephen Littleton hath been our friend, therefore is his dwelling at our disposal. 'Tis a stout structure, andshould the King's men find us therein--some will go with us to theother world. "

Catesby smiled sadly. "Here will we indeed rest, " replied he; "for, asthou sayest, the beasts be weary. England is small, good Percy; wemust not lack courage. "

Noting the two leaders pull up their horses at the gate of thedwelling, the others did likewise, and all dismounted and entered theplace which, to some, was their last abode--save the grave. In themain chamber a cheerful fire crackled; for in the month of Novemberthe air was chill, and Master Littleton perceiving the gentlementrembling as from cold, caused to be thrown upon the embers a goodlynumber of faggots which blazed brightly. The sight recalled to Percy'smind the fatal cellar under the House of Parliament, where he hadlast seen Fawkes guarding with watchful eye the secret which laybeneath so innocent a covering. 

Having removed their heavy boots and outer clothing the conspiratorstalked together, seeking to dispel the gloom which rested upon thecompany. All were ill at ease, for, although Percy had said the King'sofficers would rest, it was possible they might secure fresh horses, push on, and attack the house ere morning. Expecting no mercy if takenalive, each resolved to sell his life dearly. 

The hours passed on to ten in the evening, when a thing happenedwhich, to the minds of many in England, exemplified the law ofGod--that the wicked shall perish through their own evil devices. Wishing to have all in readiness should the officers come upon themduring the night, and fearing that the gunpowder with which they wereprovided might have become dampened by reason of the humidity of theweather and its prolonged exposure to the elements, Christopher Wrightpoured upon a platter some two pounds of the black grains, and set itbeside the hearthstone. Noting the action another of the party broughta second bag of powder and treated it likewise, thinking to remove itwhen sufficiently dry. 

Percy perceived the danger and withdrew from his position before theblaze. "Were it not well, " said he, "to have a care, lest a sparkfalling outward do much harm to those within the room?"

"Nay, " replied Wright, "'tis my purpose to watch it closely; thestuff, being damp, is worthless. "

Percy spoke no more, not wishing to be thought unduly nervous, and thecompany relapsing into silence watched the flames, each intent uponhis own dark forebodings. 

For many minutes they remained thus, but starting at each sound fromwithout, and hearing in every rustle of the leafless trees andshrubbery the hoofbeats of horses bearing their pursuing enemies. Theheat of the room, added to sleepless nights which had followed thearrest of Guido Fawkes and the discovery of the conspiracy, graduallyovercame the majority of the party, and all but Percy and Catesbynodded in their seats. These two, the first confederates with Winterand the Superior of the Jesuits to formulate the plan for destroyingthe King and the government, sat moodily side by side, their burningeyeballs glassy in the red reflection of the flames, and their heartsheavy with thoughts of dismal failure and impending ruin. 

"Would that Garnet were with us now, " muttered Catesby, thrusting onefoot upon the fender; "perchance his wit might devise some means tofree us from our entanglement and perplexity, and save the cause. Would that Fawkes had----"

Percy raised his eyes quickly. "Thou art then sorry----" he began. 

"Nay, " replied Catesby with some haughtiness. "If I had thought therehad been the least sin in it I would not have put my hand to it forall the world. No other cause led me to hazard my fortune and my lifebut zeal for the true faith. We have, in truth, failed, good Percy;yet was the match burning which, in another moment, would have giventhe spark to the powder, and the thunderbolt of which friend Guidospake to us would----"

Carried away by his earnestness he thrust forth his foot beyond thefender and struck the faggots which blazed in the fireplace. A showerof sparks answered the blow. One, falling beyond the hearthstone, found the platter heaped with the deadly grains. Then, in truth, thespark was given to the powder, but it was not that which lay beneaththe floor of Parliament; it was the powder in the room wherein noddedthe would-be murderers of the lords and the King of England. EreCatesby was aware of the awful danger, before Percy--who had noted thefalling spark--could cry out, there came a blinding flash, a cloud ofsulphurous smoke, the crashing of bent and broken timbers, and theaffrighted cries of the luckless inmates of the room. Yet in one thingthere seemed to be a merciful interposition. Carried upward by forceof the explosion, the bag containing a greater quantity of the powderwas hurled through the opening in the roof, and fell into the yarduntouched by fire; had it been otherwise, the public executioner'swork would have been less, and fewer dripping heads had graced thespikes upon the Tower. 

Blinded by fire and smoke but unharmed, save for a scorching of thehair and beard, the conspirators groped their way into the open air. Upon their souls rested a cloud of superstitious dread. In theexplosion of the gunpowder they saw the hand of God; and--'twas notturned against the King!

 * * * * *

It was scarce daybreak when the horse bearing Sir Thomas Winterstopped before the door of the ill-fated Holbeach mansion. Report hadreached him of the explosion, also that many of his companions weresorely wounded, and that Catesby lay dead, with body shattered by thefiring of the powder. Then was proved his gentle blood, and the valorof his race. Those with him when he received the news begged him tofly; but he only looked upon them with clouded brow, and said: "Nay;Catesby is dead. I will see to his burial; a gallant gentleman, --andmy friend!"

Thus he rode in all haste to Holbeach, to find there his friendsunharmed;--close following him were the soldiers of the King. 

Scant time was given to the luckless gentlemen to prepare forreceiving them. 

"What have ye resolved to do?" asked Winter, having heard the story ofthe night. 

"We mean to die, " replied Percy stoutly; "we can scarce hold the housean hour. "

"Then, " said Winter quietly, "I will take such part as you do. " Andlooking to his sword and firearms, he leaned against the casement ofthe window facing the road on which the King's men would come. 

Toward noon they came, a gallant company of gentlemen and musketeers, flushed with the early morning ride and filled with zeal to take thetraitors who awaited them behind the walls of Master Littleton'shouse. Watching from the window Winter saw many faces which he knew;Sir John Foliot, Francis Conyers, Salway, Ketelsby, all staunchadherents of the King;--men who, being dispatched upon any errand, would carry it through most zealously. Before the cavalcade rode adoughty gentleman, Sir Richard Walsh, sheriff of Worcestershire, armedwith the royal authority to seize the persons of such conspirators aschanced to fall in his way. 

It was the sheriff who halted the troop some fifty paces from thehouse, and, attended by Sir John Foliot and two musketeers, advancedboldly to the closed door. 

Trying the latch and finding the portal barred, he tapped upon thepanel with the hilt of his sword. None from within replied. Again thesheriff rapped, and a voice demanded who it was that soughtadmittance, and what might be his errand. 

"That, " replied Sir Richard, "is well known to thee. Open, therefore, in the King's name!"

The conspirators hesitated, for the command was one wont to be obeyedin England. 

"Open!" repeated the sheriff; "lay down your arms!"

"We will die, " replied Catesby firmly, "but will not open unto thee. "

"Die thou shalt, " replied Sir Richard cheerily, "with thy head uponthe block. " So saying, and perceiving that those within would selltheir lives dearly, he returned to his men, ordering that some quicklyfire the building, others stand ready to receive any, who, drivenforth by fear or flame, might seek to escape through the garden. 

Perceiving that they were like to be burned alive, those in the houseresolved to gain the garden, and with sword in hand contend with theKing's men. 'Twas Winter who unloosed the bolt; and perchancesomething had come of the venture, for the besieged were of mostdetermined purpose, if some of the soldiers had not discharged theirmuskets, and a ball striking Sir Thomas in the shoulder wounded himsorely. A second fire sent a rain of balls through the open doorway, some of them hitting my Lord of Rookwood and the two Wrights, Christopher and John, --stretching them dead upon the floor. 

"God's mercy!" cried Catesby; "let us forth, ere we all be murdered. Stand by me, Tom, and we will die together. "

Winter, whose face was white with pain, replied hoarsely: "That willI, sir; but having lost the use of my right arm, I fear I will betaken. "

Yet he stooped and caught up his sword with his left hand, standing alittle back of Catesby and Percy who blocked the doorway. 

"Wouldst contend against us?" cried the sheriff of Worcestershire, andthen ordered that a third volley be delivered by his musketeers. 

Most of the balls lodged themselves in the wall of the building, ortore splinters from the casement of the door. But one, as thoughresolved to atone for the fruitless efforts of its fellows, sped onits deathly errand, striking Robert Catesby in the neck, passing quitethrough, and burying itself in the breast of Percy, who with scarce acry fell dead at Winter's feet. 

Bleeding profusely, Catesby attempted to regain his footing, but deathwas near and he fell back crying to Winter to lift him up that hemight help defend the doorway. The conspirators who remained unharmed, drew back in terror, crouching behind the furniture with no thought ofresisting the King's authority. 

Seeing that Percy, Rookwood and the two Wrights were dead, Catesbydying, and none to support him, Winter cast aside his sword and bentover his stricken comrade. At that moment certain of the sheriff's mencharging upon the open doorway, perceived him standing there, and one, bearing a pike, thrust it at him so that the point pierced his doubletand wounded him grievously. Staggering under the blow Winter, hisclothes covered with blood, gave back, and again was wounded in theside by a rapier. 

"Cowards!" cried he, striking blindly at the foremost soldier withhis naked hand, "can ye not touch a vital part, but must torture meso?"

One, perceiving him sorely wounded and unarmed, seized him and in amoment he was bound and dragged into the yard. 

The others, Keyes, John Grant and Henry Morgan, were quickly overcome, and now of the nine Catholic gentlemen who had resolved to defend thehouse, five lay dead, and four were in the hands of the authorities. 

Having so handily brought his errand to a successful termination SirRichard, of Worcestershire, fell into great good humor. 

"Faith!" cried he, sheathing his bloodless sword, "'tis a merrygathering for my Lord of Salisbury to look upon. Four plump birdsready for the axe man, and four and one knocking at the gate of hell. Rare sport, in truth, hath been the taking of so ill a brood;therefore, gentlemen, to London and the Tower with the nine. Thoughsome be dead, their necks are ready for the axe, I warrant. 'Tis abrave sight will greet the populace, anon. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

REAPING THE WHIRLWIND. 

Those who watched with Fawkes said he partook of no food, sleptnot--neither spoke, and refused to utter the names of his fellowconspirators. He sat all day in his cell without moving. At timesthere came into his drawn and haggard face a strange and unearthlylight, as though he suddenly beheld a form glide from out the shadowof the dungeon, and kneel beside him. At these moments he wouldstretch forth his arms as if to embrace the airy figure of his brain, and whisper, nodding his head slowly the while: "Thou wert all Ihad--in a moment, darling;--wait until thy father can but pass thisdreary portal. "

They put him to the rack, but elicited nothing. He endured the tortureas though scarce feeling it; and even in agony, was heard to mutter:"In a moment, my little one--but a moment more. "

His trial, with that of the others implicated in the plot, was over. The sentence of death had been pronounced upon each. Three days after, Everard Digsby, with Robert Winter and Grant, met death by hanging inthe churchyard of St. Paul's. Three remained awaiting the headsman'saxe--Thomas Winter, Keyes and Guido Fawkes. 

Their execution was anticipated by the populace of London withunwonted eagerness. The desire of the people to see justice meted tothose whom they deemed the prime movers in a conspiracy which hadshaken England to its foundation, was only rivaled by the curiosityresident in each heart, to behold the one who, with undaunted nerve, had stood beneath the House of Lords ready to fire the mine whichwould rob the kingdom at one fell blow of both its monarch andParliament. 

In that age public executions were signals for general holidays;people flocked from the most distant shires, decked in best attire, towitness the doing to death of some poor malefactor. But this was noordinary occasion; and, as if to emphasize the fact, a great thronghad assembled at Westminster even before the sun arose, on the day setapart for the beheading of the remaining three conspirators. 

At an early hour companies of halberdiers were forced to exercisetheir authority in keeping the crowd at proper distance from theominous structure erected in the middle of the square. The objectabout which this innumerable concourse of people gathered was a highplatform covered with black cloth, in the center of which stood theblock. The condemned men had been brought from the Tower shortly aftermidnight, and were now lodged in the space beneath the scaffold, whichhad been converted into a kind of closed pen. 

The hour for the execution was eleven, and as the time approached themultitude gradually swelled, being increased by thousands; as thoughsome pitiless monster were fattening itself upon thoughts of the bloodso soon to be shed. 

Again and again the pikemen were forced to thrust back the surgingmass, and at last the soldiers did not hesitate to use their weaponsas the throng forced its way up to the very ropes surrounding thescaffold. But now above the babel of tongues the great bell of theCathedral boomed out the hour of eleven. As its last note died awaythe roar of voices gradually subsided, until it sunk into a dullmurmur of expectancy, but again it broke forth into a cheer as theheadsman ascended the stairs leading to the scaffold. This man waspopular with the rabble and noted for his dexterity and strength. Asthe applause greeted him he recognized the homage rendered with a bow. His was a gruesome figure, as, attired in the costume of the office, his features concealed by a scarlet mask, he leaned easily upon thehandle of the glittering axe--and waited. 

Soon four soldiers, under command of an officer, approached the doorof the inclosure and stood two on either side with halberds reversed. A moment of breathless stillness followed; the portal opened and onevictim was led forth. Surrounded by guards he was solemnly conductedto the foot of the steps leading to the block. Keyes, for it was he, ascended without aid, and reached the platform. A murmur ofdisappointment ran through the multitude as he came into view, forthey had supposed Fawkes would be the first to die. 

The man for an instant stood quite still; he had been the first of thelittle procession to reach the top, and seemed undecided whichdirection to take, but only for a moment stood he thus; two of theguards quickly approached and led him toward the center of thescaffold. He knelt without assistance, laid his cheek upon the block, his right shoulder resting in the notch fastened for its reception. The soldiers retired. The headsman drew back, swiftly raised the axeabove his head, measured the distance with a practiced eye, andstruck. 

The favorite of the rabble had again acquitted himself well. The headof the victim fell on one side of the block, the quivering trunksinking to the floor upon the other. A cheer greeted the deed, thensilence once more fell upon the multitude. Some soldiers now appearedcarrying a box of sand. They quickly ascended the steps and scatteredits contents upon the wet boards. Having finished, one of the menseized the head which still lay where it had fallen, fixed it upon thepoint of his pike and stuck the weapon with its gruesome burden uponthe railing. The headless trunk was flung without ceremony into a cartwhich was in waiting. 

Again the procession formed; once more a victim knelt; the axe fell, and another head stared down upon the throng below. 

A ripple of expectancy again broke forth. Two had died; the next mustbe the one for whom they waited. All strained their necks in eagernessto catch the first glimpse as he should be led forth, and this was thesight for which they had longed:--

A man unable to stand alone; his form, weakened by torture andsickness, was dragged up the steps and stood confronting them. Hisarms were not bound, for they hung lifeless. Those who stood nearcould understand the absence of fetters; there was nothing upon whichto clasp them, save a mass of crushed bones, in many places strippedof flesh by the cruel cords of the rack. He seemed quite oblivious ofhis surroundings, turned his head neither to the right nor to theleft, but gazed past the headsman--past his captors--and far beyondthe sea of upturned faces. His lips were seen to move, but only thosewho supported him could catch the words:--"In a moment, my littleone!" he whispered; "thy father will soon kiss thy sweet lips--andthen--we will love each other, and in that love forget all----"

They hurried him toward the block and were obliged to place his headupon it; his weakness was so great that he would have fallen had theynot supported him. His guards drew back, the axe, already lifted, wasabout to descend, when, the poor limp figure slipped and fell with athud to the floor, unable to save itself by reason of the uselessnessof the arms. Again he was lifted; once more the axe was raised, andeven in that moment they heard him whisper the name ever upon hislips:

"Elinor!"--Crash!--and he was away to clasp her to his breast. 

CONCLUSION. 

Of Henry Garnet something remains to be said. The alarm which was feltat the revelation of the treason which might, but for the arrest ofFawkes in the cellar under Parliament House, have resulted in thedisruption of the government, was widespread, and it became necessaryfor the Jesuits remaining in the kingdom to hide most secretly. 

As Catesby had said, the Superior, upon leaving London some weeksbefore the discovery of the plot, had taken refuge in the house of SirEverard Digsby at Coughton. 'Twas there he received a letter from oneof the conspirators announcing the failure of the enterprise to whichhe had lent himself. For three weeks he remained in hiding, when, bynight, and in disguise, he was removed to Hendlip House, where withanother of his Order, and two servants, he escaped for a time thediligent search instituted by Salisbury, and urged on by the King. 

On the twentieth of January following the fatal Fifth of November, SirHenry Bromley, a magistrate, arrived with an armed force at Hendlip, being in possession of a commission to search the mansion. The housewas full of secret apartments, and for seven days the King's officerlooked in vain for the Superior of the Jesuits. But on the eighth asoldier, chancing upon a room occupied by one of the women of theplace, discovered in an aperture of the chimney a reed pipe, whichexcited his curiosity and suspicion. 

Hearing of the matter, Sir Bromley followed the clew thus given him, and behind the wall, in a secret chamber, came upon Garnet and hiscompanion, Oldcorne, who, since the coming of the authorities, hadbeen fed through the reed with broths and warm drinks. 

Taken to London, the Superior of the Jesuits was treated kindly. Manyexaminations were given him, nor was torture resorted to in his case, though Oldcorne was put to the rack. Through all Garnet divulgednothing, and there had been some likelihood of escape, for the Kingwas kindly disposed, had not a trick resorted to by the governmentresulted in his undoing. Allowed to hold communication with theunfortunate Oldcorne, a watch was stationed behind the wall of thecell, and such conversation as passed between the churchmen was takendown. The facts thus revealed hurried Garnet to his doom. 

His trial was held late in March, and although he defended himselfably, the evidence of his having been a party to treason wasconclusive. Through all he maintained that, though cognizant of thedesign to blow up the House of Parliament, he had taken no active partwith the conspirators. Holding that the secret had come to him throughsacramental confession, he affirmed that, by his faith, he was boundto disclose nothing concerning it. The trial ended with the sentencethat he follow in the footsteps of Fawkes, Winter and those others whohad met death upon the scaffold. Even then, the King, loth to seeexecuted so famous a prelate, stayed for a time the hand of theaxeman. 'Twas not till the third day of May, three months after thedeath of his former companions, that Garnet died--the last of thoseunfortunate men who sought to gain their ends by violence. 

 THE END. 

 TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

1. Few quotes are opened with marks but are not closed and vice-versa. Obvious errors have been silently closed, while those requiringinterpretation have been left as such. 

2. The following misprints have been corrected:

 "Fawke's" corrected to "Fawkes'" (page 73) "reovered" corrected to "recovered" (page 106) "exlaims" corrected to "exclaims" (page 108) "'tis" capitalized to "'Tis" (page 154) "readinesss" corrected to "readiness" (page 215)

3. Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistenciesin spelling, punctuation, and hyphenation have been retained.