Pursuing the road, they shortly afterwards arrived at a gate leading to

the house--a large building, erected probably at the beginning of

Elizabeth's reign--and entering it, they passed under an avenue of

trees. On approaching the mansion, they observed that many of the

windows were closed, and the whole appearance of the place was

melancholy and deserted. The garden was overgrown with weeds, and the

door looked as if it was rarely opened.

Not discouraged by these appearances, but rather satisfied by them of

the security of the asylum, Guy Fawkes proceeded to the back of the

house, and entering a court, the flags and stones of which were covered

with moss, while the interstices were filled with long grass, Guy Fawkes

knocked against a small door, and, after repeating the summons, it was

answered by an old woman-servant, who popped her head out of an upper

window, and demanded his business.

Guy Fawkes was about to inquire for Mrs. Brooksby, when another head,

which proved to be that of Catesby, appeared at the window. On seeing

Fawkes and his companions, Catesby instantly descended, and unfastened

the door. The house proved far more comfortable within than its exterior

promised; and the old female domestic having taken word to Anne Vaux

that Viviana was below, the former lady, who had not yet risen, sent for

her to her chamber, and provided everything for her comfort.

Guy Fawkes and Humphrey Chetham, neither of whom had rested during the

night, were glad to obtain a few hours' repose on the floor of the first

room into which they were shown, and they were not disturbed until the

day had considerably advanced, when Catesby thought fit to rouse them

from their slumbers.

Explanations were then given on both sides. Chetham detailed the manner

of Viviana's escape from the Tower, and Catesby in his turn acquainted

them that Father Oldcorne was in the house, having found his way thither

after his escape from the dwelling at Lambeth. Guy Fawkes was greatly

rejoiced at the intelligence, and shortly afterwards had the

satisfaction of meeting with the priest. At noon, the whole party

assembled, with the exception of Viviana, who, by the advice of Anne

Vaux, kept her chamber, to recruit herself after the sufferings she had

undergone.

Humphrey Chetham, of whom no suspicions were now entertained, and of

whom Catesby no longer felt any jealousy, was invited to stay in the

house; and he was easily induced to pass his time near Viviana, although

he might not be able to see her. Long and frequent consultations were

held by the conspirators, and letters were despatched by Catesby to the

elder Winter at his seat, Huddington, in Worcestershire, entreating him

to make every preparation for the crisis, as well as to Sir Everard

Digby, to desire him to assemble as many friends as he could muster

against the meeting of Parliament, at Dunchurch, in Warwickshire, under

the plea of a grand hunting-party.

Arrangements were next made as to the steps to be taken by the different

parties after the explosion. Catesby undertook, with a sufficient force,

to seize the Princess Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of James the First,

who was then at the residence of the Earl of Harrington, near Coventry,

and to proclaim her queen, in case the others should fail in securing

the princes. It was supposed that Henry, Prince of Wales, (who, it need

scarcely be mentioned, died in his youth,) would be present with the

King, his father, in the Parliament House, and would perish with him;

and in this case, as Charles, Duke of York, (afterwards Charles the

First,) would become successor to the throne, it was resolved that he

should be seized by Percy, and instantly proclaimed. Other resolutions

were decided upon, and the whole time of the conspirators was spent in

maturing their projects.

And thus weeks, and even months, stole on. Viviana had completely

regained her strength, and passed a life of perfect seclusion, seldom,

if ever, mixing with the others. She, however, took a kindly farewell of

Humphrey Chetham, before his departure for Manchester (for which place

he set out about a fortnight after his arrival at White Webbs, having

first sought out his servant, Martin Heydocke); but though strongly

urged by Guy Fawkes, she would hold out no hopes of a change in her

sentiments towards the young merchant. Meetings were occasionally held

by the conspirators elsewhere, and Catesby and Fawkes had more than one

interview with Tresham--but never, except in places where they were

secure from a surprise.

The latter end of September had now arrived, and the meeting of

Parliament was still fixed for the third of October. On the last day of

the month, Guy Fawkes prepared to start for town; but before doing so he

desired to see Viviana. They had not met for some weeks; nor, indeed,

since Fawkes had discovered the secret of her heart, (and perhaps of his

own,) had they ever met with the same freedom as heretofore. As she

entered the room, in which he awaited her coming, a tremor agitated his

frame, but he had nerved himself for the interview, and speedily subdued

the feeling.

"I am starting for London, Viviana," he said, in a voice of forced

calmness. "You may guess for what purpose. But as I may never behold you

again, I would not part with you without a confession of my weakness. I

will not deny that what Humphrey Chetham stated, and which you have

never contradicted--namely, that you loved me, for I must speak out--has

produced a strong effect upon me. I have endeavoured to conquer it, but

it will return. Till I knew you I never loved, Viviana."

"Indeed!" she exclaimed.

"Never," he replied. "The fairest had not power to move me. But I grieve

to say--notwithstanding my struggles--I do not continue equally

insensible."

"Ah!" she ejaculated, becoming as pale as death.

"Why should I hesitate to declare my feelings? Why should I not tell you

that--though blinded to it so long--I have discovered that I do love

you? Why should I hesitate to tell you that I regret this, and lament

that we ever met?"

"What mean you?" cried Viviana, with a terrified look.

"I will tell you," replied Fawkes. "Till I saw you, my thoughts were

removed from earth, and fixed on one object. Till I saw you, I asked not

to live, but to die the death of a martyr."

"Die so still," rejoined Viviana. "Forget me--oh! forget me."

"I cannot," replied Fawkes. "I have striven against it. But your image

is perpetually before me. Nay, at this very moment, when I am about to

set out on the enterprise, you alone detain me."

"I am glad of it," exclaimed Viviana, fervently. "Oh that I could

prevent you--could save you!"

"Save me!" echoed Fawkes, bitterly. "You destroy me."

"How?" she asked.

"Because I am sworn to this project," he rejoined; "and if I were turned

from it, I would perish by my own hand."

"Oh! say not so," replied Viviana, "but listen to me. Abandon it, and I

will devote myself to you."

Guy Fawkes gazed at her for a moment passionately, and then, covering

his face with his hands, appeared torn by conflicting emotions.

Viviana approached him, and pressing his arm, asked in an entreating

voice, "Are you still determined to pursue your dreadful project?"

"I am," replied Fawkes, uncovering his face, and gazing at her; "but, if

I remain here a moment longer, I shall not be able to do so."

"I will detain you, then," she rejoined, "and exercise the power I

possess over you for your benefit."

"No!" he replied, vehemently. "It must not be. Farewell, for ever!"

And breaking from her, he rushed out of the room.

As he gained the passage, he encountered Catesby, who looked abashed at

seeing him.

"I have overheard what has passed," said the latter, "and applaud your

resolution. Few men, similarly circumstanced, would have acted as you

have done."

"_You_ would not," said Fawkes, coldly.

"Perhaps not," rejoined Catesby. "But that does not lessen my admiration

of your conduct."

"I am devoted to one object," replied Fawkes, "and nothing shall turn me

from it."

"Remove yourself instantly from temptation, then," replied Catesby. "I

will meet you at the cellar beneath the Parliament House to-morrow

night."

With this, he accompanied Guy Fawkes to the door; and the latter,

without hazarding a look behind him, set out for London, where he

arrived at nightfall.

On the following night, Fawkes examined the cellar, and found it in all

respects as he had left it; and, apprehensive lest some difficulty might

arise, he resolved to make every preparation. He, accordingly, pierced

the sides of several of the barrels piled against the walls with a

gimlet, and inserted in the holes small pieces of slow-burning match.

Not content with this, he staved in the tops of the uppermost tier, and

scattered powder among them to secure their instantaneous ignition.

This done, he took a powder-horn, with which he was provided, and

kneeling down, and holding his lantern so as to throw a light upon the

floor, laid a train to one of the lower barrels, and brought it within a

few inches of the door, intending to fire it from that point. His

arrangements completed, he arose, and muttered,

"A vessel is provided for my escape in the river, and my companions

advise me to use a slow match, which will allow me to get out of harm's

way. But I will see the deed done, and if the train fails, will hold a

torch to the barrels myself."

At this juncture, a slight tap was heard without.

Guy Fawkes instantly masked his lantern, and cautiously opening the

door, beheld Catesby.

"I am come to tell you that Parliament is prorogued," said the latter.

"The House does not meet till the fifth of November. We have another

month to wait."

"I am sorry for it," rejoined Fawkes. "I have just laid the train. The

lucky moment will pass."

And, locking the door, he proceeded with Catesby to the adjoining house.

They had scarcely been gone more than a second, when two figures muffled

in cloaks emerged from behind a wall.

"The train is laid," observed the foremost, "and they are gone to the

house. You might seize them now without danger."

"That will not answer my purpose," replied the other. "I will give them

another month."

"Another month!" replied the first speaker. "Who knows what may happen

in that time? They may abandon their project."

"There is no fear of that," replied the other. "But you had better go

and join them."

CHAPTER XI.

THE MARRIAGE IN THE FOREST.

Tresham, for it will have been conjectured that he was one of the

speakers mentioned in the preceding chapter, on separating from Lord

Mounteagle, took the same direction as the conspirators. He hesitated

for some time before venturing to knock at the garden-gate; and when he

had done so, felt half-disposed to take to his heels. But shame

restrained him; and hearing footsteps approach, he gave the customary

signal, and was instantly admitted by Guy Fawkes.

"What brings you here?" demanded the latter, as they entered the house,

and made fast the door behind them.

"I have just heard that Parliament is prorogued to the fifth of

November," replied Tresham, "and came to tell you so."

"I already know it," returned Fawkes, gloomily; "and for the first time

feel some misgiving as to the issue of our enterprise."

"Why so?" inquired Tresham.

"November is unlucky to me," rejoined Fawkes, "and I cannot recollect a

year in my life in which some ill has not befallen me during that month,

especially on the fifth day. On the last fifth of November, I nearly

died of a fever at Madrid. It is a strange and unfortunate coincidence

that the meeting of the Parliament should be appointed for that

particular day."

"Shall I tell you what I think it portends?" hesitated Tresham.

"Do so," replied Fawkes, "and speak boldly. I am no child to be

frightened at shadows."

"You have more than once declared your intention of perishing with our

foes," rejoined Tresham. "The design, though prosperous in itself, may

be fatal to you."

"You are right," replied Fawkes. "I have little doubt I shall perish on

that day. You are both aware of my superstitious nature, and are not

ignorant that many mysterious occurrences have combined to strengthen

the feeling,--such as the dying words of the prophetess, Elizabeth

Orton,--her warning speech when she was raised from the dead by Doctor

Dee,--and lastly, the vision at St. Winifred's Well. What if I tell you

the saint has again appeared to me?"

"In a dream?" inquired Catesby, in a slightly sceptical tone.

"Ay, in a dream," returned Fawkes. "But I saw her as plainly as if I had

been awake. It was the same vapoury figure--the same transparent robes,

the same benign countenance, only far more pitying than before--that I

beheld at Holywell. I heard no sound issue from her lips, but I _felt_

that she warned me to desist."

"Do you accept the warning?" asked Tresham, eagerly.

"It is needless to answer," replied Fawkes. "I have laid the train

to-night."

"You have infected me with your misgivings," observed Tresham. "Would

the enterprise had never been undertaken!"

"But being undertaken, it must be gone through with," rejoined Catesby,

sternly. "Hark'e, Tresham. You promised us two thousand pounds in aid of

the project, but have constantly deferred payment of the sum on some

plea or other."

"Because I have not been able to raise it," replied Tresham, sullenly.

"I have tried in vain to sell part of my estates at Rushton, in

Northamptonshire. I cannot effect impossibilities."

"Tush!" cried Catesby, fiercely. "You well know I ask no impossibility.

I will no longer be trifled with. The money must be forthcoming by the

tenth of October, or you shall pay the penalty with your life."

"This is the language of a cut-throat, Mr. Catesby," replied Tresham.

"It is the only language I will hold towards you," rejoined Catesby,

contemptuously. "Look you disappoint me not, or take the consequences."

"I must leave for Northamptonshire at once, then," said Tresham.

"Do as you please," returned Catesby. "Play the cut-throat yourself, and

ease some rich miser of his store, if you think fit. Bring us the money,

and we will not ask how you came by it."

"Before we separate," said Tresham, disregarding these sneers, "I wish

to be resolved on one point. Who are to be saved from destruction?"

"Why do you ask?" inquired Fawkes.

"Because I must stipulate for the lives of my brothers-in-law, the Lords

Mounteagle and Stourton."

"If anything detains them from the meeting, well and good," replied

Catesby. "But no warning must be given them. That would infallibly lead

to a discovery of the plot."

"Some means might surely be adopted to put them on their guard without

danger to ourselves?" urged Tresham.

"I know of none," replied Catesby.

"Nor I," added Fawkes. "If I did, I would warn Lord Montague, and some

others whom I shall grieve to destroy."

"We are all similarly circumstanced," replied Catesby. "Keyes is anxious

for the preservation of his patron and friend, Lord Mordaunt,--Percy,

for the Earl of Northumberland. I, myself, would gladly save the young

Earl of Arundel. But we must sacrifice our private feeling for the

general good."

"We must," acquiesced Fawkes.

"We shall not meet again till the night of the tenth of October," said

Catesby, "when take care you are in readiness with the money."

Upon this, the conversation dropped, and soon afterwards Tresham

departed.

When he found himself alone, he suffered his rage to find vent in words.

"Perdition seize them!" he cried, "I shall now lose two thousand pounds,

in addition to what I have already advanced; and, as Mounteagle will not

have the disclosure made till the beginning of November, there is no way

of avoiding payment. They would not fall into the snare I laid to throw

the blame of the discovery, when it takes place, upon their own

indiscretion. But I must devise some other plan. The warning shall

proceed from an unknown quarter. A letter, written in a feigned hand,

and giving some obscure intimation of danger, shall be delivered with an

air of mystery to Mounteagle. This will serve as a plea for its

divulgement to the Earl of Salisbury. Well, well, they shall have the

money; but they shall pay me back in other coin."

Early on the following day, Catesby and Fawkes proceeded to White Webbs.

Garnet was greatly surprised to see them, and could not conceal his

disappointment at the cause of their return.

"This delay bodes no good," he observed. "Parliament has been so often

prorogued, that I begin to think some suspicion is entertained of our

design."

"Make your mind easy, then," replied Catesby. "I have made due

inquiries, and find the meeting is postponed to suit the King's

convenience, who wishes to prolong his stay at Royston. He may probably

have some secret motive for the delay, but I am sure it in no way

concerns us."

Everything being now fully arranged, the conspirators had only to wait

patiently for the arrival of the expected fifth of November. Most of

them decided upon passing the interval in the country. Ambrose Rookwood

departed for Clopton, near Stratford-upon-Avon,--a seat belonging to

Lord Carew, where his family were staying. Keyes went to visit Lord

Mordaunt at Turvey, in Bedfordshire; and Percy and the two Wrights set

out for Gothurst, in Buckinghamshire, to desire Sir Everard Digby to

postpone the grand hunting-party which he was to hold at Dunsmore Heath,

as an excuse for mustering a strong party of Catholics, to the beginning

of November. The two Winters repaired to their family mansion,

Huddington, in Worcestershire; while Fawkes and Catesby, together with

the two priests, remained at White Webbs. The three latter held daily

conferences together, but were seldom joined by Fawkes, who passed his

time in the adjoining forest, selecting its densest and most intricate

parts for his rambles.

It was now the beginning of October, and, as is generally the case in

the early part of this month, the weather was fine, and the air pure and

bracing. The forest could scarcely have been seen to greater advantage.

The leaves had assumed their gorgeous autumnal tints, and the masses of

timber, variegated in colour, presented an inexpressibly beautiful

appearance. Guy Fawkes spent hours in the depths of the wood. His sole

companions were the lordly stag and the timid hare, that occasionally

started across his path. Since his return, he had sedulously avoided

Viviana, and they had met only twice, and then no speech had passed

between them. One day, when he had plunged even deeper than usual into

the forest, and had seated himself on the stump of a decayed tree, with

his eyes fixed on a small clear rivulet welling at his feet, he saw the

reflection of a female figure in the water; and, filled with the idea of

the vision of Saint Winifred, at first imagined he was about to receive

another warning. But a voice that thrilled to his heart's core, soon

undeceived him, and, turning, he beheld Viviana. She was habited in a

riding-dress, and appeared prepared to set out upon a journey.

"So you have tracked me to my solitude," he observed, in a tone of

forced coldness. "I thought I was secure from interruption here."

"You will forgive me, I am sure, when you know my errand," she replied.

"It is to take an eternal farewell of you."

"Indeed!" he exclaimed. "Are you about to quit White Webbs?"

"I am," she mournfully rejoined. "I am about to set out with Father

Oldcorne for Gothurst, where I shall remain till all is over."

"I entirely approve your determination," returned Fawkes, after a short

pause.

"I knew you would do so, or I should have consulted you upon it," she

rejoined. "And as you appear to avoid me, I would fain have departed

without taking leave of you, but found it impossible to do so."

"You well know my motive for avoiding you, Viviana," rejoined Fawkes.

"We are no longer what we were to each other. A fearful struggle has

taken place within me, though I have preserved an unmoved exterior,

between passion and the sense of my high calling. I have told you I

never loved before, and fancied my heart immoveable as adamant. But I

now find out my error. It is a prey to a raging and constant flame. I

have shunned you," he continued, with increased excitement, "because the

sight of you shakes my firmness,--because I feel it sinful to think of

you in preference to holier objects,--and because, after I have quitted

you, your image alone engrosses my thoughts. Here, in the depths of this

wood, by the side of this brook, I can commune with my soul,--can

abstract myself from the world and the thoughts of the world--from

you--yes, you, who are all the world to me now,--and prepare to meet my

end."

"Then you are resolved to die?" she cried.

"I shall abide the explosion, and nothing but a miracle can save me,"

returned Fawkes.

"And think not it will be exerted in your behalf," she replied. "Heaven

does not approve your design, and you will assuredly incur its vengeance

by your criminal conduct."

"Viviana," replied Guy Fawkes, rising, "man cannot read my heart, but

Heaven can; and the sincerity of my purpose will be recognised above.

What I am about to do is for the regeneration of our holy religion; and

if the welfare of that religion is dear to the Supreme Being, our cause

must prosper. If the contrary, it deserves to fail, and will fail. I

have ever told you that I care not what becomes of myself. I am now

more than ever indifferent to life,--or rather," he added, in a sombre

tone, "I am anxious to die."

"Your dreadful wish, I fear, will be accomplished," replied Viviana,

sadly. "I have been constantly haunted by frightful apprehensions

respecting you, and my dead father has appeared to me in my dreams. His

spirit, if such it were, seemed to gaze upon me with a mournful look,

and, as I thought, pronounced your name in piteous accents."

"These forebodings chime with my own," muttered Fawkes, repressing a

shudder; "but nothing shall shake me. It will inflict a bitter pang upon

me to part with you, Viviana,--the bitterest I can ever feel,--and I

shall be glad when it is over."

"I echo your own wish," she returned, "and deeply lament that we ever

met. But the fate that brought us together must for ever unite us."

"What mean you?" he inquired, gazing fixedly at her.

"There is one sad consolation which you can afford me, and which you owe

me for the deep and lasting misery I shall endure on your account,"

replied Viviana;--"a consolation that will enable me to bear your loss

with fortitude, and to devote myself wholly to Heaven."

"Whatever I can do that will not interfere with my purpose, you may

command," he rejoined.

"What I have to propose will not interfere with it," she answered. "Now,

hear me, and put the sole construction I deserve on my conduct. Father

Garnet is at a short distance from us, behind those trees, waiting my

summons. I have informed him of my design, and he approves of it. It is

to unite us in marriage--solemnly unite us--that though I may never live

with you as a wife, I may mourn you as a widow. Do you consent?"

Guy Fawkes returned an affirmative, in a voice broken by emotion.

"The moment the ceremony is over," pursued Viviana, "I shall start with

Father Oldcorne for Gothurst. We shall never meet again in this world."

"Unless I succeed," said Fawkes.

"You will _not_ succeed," replied Viviana. "If I thought so, I should

not take this step. I look upon it as an espousal with the dead."

So saying, she hurried away, and disappearing beneath the covert,

returned in a few seconds with Garnet.

"I have a strange duty to perform for you, my son," said Garnet to

Fawkes, who remained motionless and stupified; "but I am right willing

to perform it, because I think it will lead to your future happiness

with the fair creature who has bestowed her affections on you."

"Do not speculate on the future, father," cried Viviana. "You know _why_

I asked you to perform this ceremony. You know, also, that I have made

preparations for instant departure; and that I indulge no hope of seeing

Guy Fawkes again."

"All this I know, dear daughter," returned Garnet; "but, in spite of

your anticipations of ill, I still hope that your union may prove

auspicious."

"I take you to witness, father," said Viviana, "that in bestowing my

hand upon Guy Fawkes, I bestow at the same time all my possessions upon

him. He is free to use them as he thinks proper,--even in the

furtherance of his design against the state, which, though I cannot

approve it, seems good to him."

"This must not be," cried Fawkes.

"It _shall be_," rejoined Viviana. "Proceed with the ceremony, father."

"Let her have her own way, my son," observed Garnet, in a low tone.

"Under any circumstances, her estates must now be necessarily yours."

He then took a breviary from his vest, and placing them near each other,

began to read aloud the marriage-service appointed by the Romish Church.

And there, in that secluded spot, and under such extraordinary

circumstances, with no other witnesses than the ancient trees around

them, and the brook rippling at their feet, were Guy Fawkes and Viviana

united. The ceremony over, Guy Fawkes pressed his bride to his breast,

and imprinted a kiss upon her lips.

"I have broken my faith to Heaven, to which I was first espoused," he

cried.

"No," she returned; "you will now return to your first and holiest

choice. Think of me only as I shall think of you,--as of the dead."

With this, the party slowly and silently returned to the house, where

they found a couple of steeds, with luggage strapped to the saddles, at

the door.

Father Oldcorne was already mounted, and in a few minutes Viviana was by

his side. Before her departure, she bade Guy Fawkes a tender farewell;

and at this trying juncture her firmness nearly deserted her. But

rousing herself, she sprang upon her horse, and urging the animal into a

quick pace, and followed by Oldcorne, she speedily disappeared from

view. Guy Fawkes watched her out of sight, and shunning the regards of

Catesby, who formed one of the group, struck into the forest, and was

not seen again till the following day.

The tenth of October having arrived, Guy Fawkes and Catesby repaired to

the place of rendezvous. But the night passed, and Tresham did not

appear. Catesby was angry and disappointed, and could not conceal his

apprehensions of treachery. Fawkes took a different view of the matter,

and thought it not improbable that their confederate's absence might be

occasioned by the difficulty he found in complying with their demands;

and this opinion was confirmed the next morning by the arrival of a

letter from Tresham, stating that he had been utterly unable to effect

the sales he contemplated, and could not, therefore, procure the money

till the end of the month.

"I will immediately go down to Rushton," said Catesby, "and if I find

him disposed to palter with us, I will call him to instant account. But

Garnet informs me that Viviana has bestowed all her wealth upon you. Are

you willing to devote it to the good cause?"

"No!" replied Fawkes, in a tone so decisive that his companion felt it

would be useless to urge the matter further. "I give my life to the

cause,--that must suffice."

The subject was never renewed. At night, Catesby, having procured a

powerful steed, set out upon his journey to Northamptonshire, while

Fawkes returned to White Webbs.

About a fortnight passed unmarked by any event of importance. Despatches

were received from Catesby, stating that he had received the money from

Tresham, and had expended it in procuring horses and arms. He also added

that he had raised numerous recruits on various pretences. This letter

was dated from Ashby St. Leger's, the seat of his mother, Lady Catesby,

but he expressed his intention of proceeding to Coughton Hall, near

Alcester, in Warwickshire, the residence of Mr. Thomas Throckmorton (a

wealthy Catholic gentleman), whither Sir Everard Digby had removed with

his family, to be in readiness for the grand hunting-party to be held on

the fifth of November on Dunsmore Heath. Here he expected to be joined

by the two Wrights, the Winters, Rookwood, Keyes, and the rest of the

conspirators, and undertook to bring them all up to White Webbs on

Saturday the twenty-sixth of October.

By this time, Guy Fawkes had in a great degree recovered his equanimity,

and left alone with Garnet, held long and frequent religious conferences

with him; it being evidently his desire to prepare himself for his

expected fate. He spent the greater part of the nights in solitary

vigils--fasted even more rigorously than he was enjoined to do--and

prayed with such fervour and frequency, that, fearing an ill effect upon

his health, and almost upon his mind, which had become exalted to the

highest pitch of enthusiasm, Garnet thought it necessary to check him.

The priest did not fail to note that Viviana's name never passed his

lips, and that in all their walks in the forest he carefully shunned the

scene of his espousals.

And thus time flew by. On the evening of the twenty-sixth of October, in

accordance with Catesby's intimation, the conspirators arrived. They

were all assembled at supper, and were relating the different

arrangements which had been made in anticipation of the important

event, when Garnet observed with a look of sudden uneasiness to Catesby,

"You said in one of your letters that you would bring Tresham with you,

my son. Why do I not see him?"

"He sent a message to Coughton to state, that having been attacked by a

sudden illness, he was unable to join us," replied Catesby, "but as soon

as he could leave his bed, he would hasten to London. This may be a

subterfuge, but I shall speedily ascertain the truth, for I have sent my

servant Bates to Rushton, to investigate the matter. I ought to tell

you," he added, "that he has given substantial proof of his devotion to

the cause by sending another thousand pounds, to be expended in the

purchase of arms and horses."

"I hope it is not dust thrown into our eyes," returned Garnet. "I have

always feared Tresham would deceive us at the last."

"This sudden illness looks suspicious, I must own," said Catesby. "Has

aught been heard of Lord Mounteagle?"

"Guy Fawkes heard that he was at his residence at Southwark yesterday,"

returned Garnet.

"So far, good," replied Catesby. "Did you visit the cellar where the

powder is deposited?" he added, turning to Fawkes.

"I did," replied the other, "and found all secure. The powder is in

excellent preservation. Before quitting the spot, I placed certain

private marks against the door, by which I can tell whether it is opened

during our absence."

"A wise precaution," returned Catesby. "And now, gentlemen," he added,

filling a goblet with wine, "success to our enterprise! Everything is

prepared," he continued, as the pledge was enthusiastically drunk; "I

have got together a company of above two hundred men, all well armed and

appointed, who will follow me wherever I choose to lead them. They will

be stationed near Dunsmore Heath on the fifth of next month, and as soon

as the event of the explosion is known, I shall ride thither as fast as

I can, and, hurrying with my troops to Coventry, seize the Princess

Elizabeth. Percy and Keyes will secure the person of the Duke of York,

and proclaim him King; while upon the rest will devolve the arduous duty

of rousing our Catholic brethren in London to rise to arms."

"Trust to us to rouse them," shouted several voices.

"Let each man swear not to swerve from the fulfilment of his task,"

cried Catesby; "swear it upon this cup of wine, in which we will all mix

our blood."

And as he spoke, he pricked his arm with the point of his sword, and

suffered a few drops of blood to fall into the goblet, while the others,

roused to a state of frenzied enthusiasm, imitated his example, and

afterwards raised the horrible mixture to their lips, pronouncing at the

same time the oath.

Guy Fawkes was the last to take the pledge, and crying in a loud voice,

"I swear not to quit my post till the explosion is over," he drained the

cup.

After this, they adjourned to a room in another wing of the house,

fitted up as a chapel, where mass was performed by Garnet, and the

sacrament administered to the whole assemblage. They were about to

retire for the night, when a sudden knocking was heard at the door.

Reconnoitring the intruder through an upper window, overlooking the

court, Catesby perceived it was Bates, who was holding a smoking and

mud-bespattered steed by the bridle.

"Well, what news do you bring?" cried Catesby, as he admitted him. "Have

you seen Tresham?"

"No," replied Bates. "His illness was a mere pretence. He has left

Rushton secretly for London."

"I knew it," cried Garnet. "He has again betrayed us."

"He shall die," said Catesby.

And the determination was echoed by all the other conspirators.

Instead of retiring to rest, they passed the night in anxious

deliberation, and it was at last proposed that Guy Fawkes should proceed

without loss of time to Southwark, to keep watch near the house of Lord

Mounteagle, and if possible ascertain whether Tresham had visited it.

To this he readily agreed. But before setting out, he took Catesby aside

for a moment, and asked, "Did you see Viviana at Coughton?"

"Only for a moment, and that just before I left the place," was the

answer. "She desired to be remembered to you, and said you were never

absent from her thoughts or prayers."

Guy Fawkes turned away to hide his emotion, and mounting one of the

horses brought by the conspirators, rode off towards London.

CHAPTER XII.

THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.

On the same day as the occurrences last related, Lord Mounteagle, who

was then staying at Southwark, suddenly intimated his intention of

passing the night at his country mansion at Hoxton; a change of place

which, trivial as it seemed at the moment, afterwards assumed an

importance, from the circumstances that arose out of it. At the latter

part of the day, he accordingly proceeded to Hoxton, accompanied by his

customary attendants, and all appeared to pass on as usual, until, just

as supper was over, one of his pages arrived from town, and desired to

see his lordship immediately.

Affecting to treat the matter with indifference, Lord Mounteagle

carelessly ordered the youth to be ushered into his presence; and when

he appeared, he demanded his business. The page replied, that he brought

a letter for his lordship, which had been delivered under circumstances

of great mystery.

"I had left the house just as it grew dusk," he said, "on an errand of

little importance, when a man, muffled in a cloak, suddenly issued from

behind a corner, and demanded whether I was one of your lordship's

servants? On my replying in the affirmative, he produced this letter,

and enjoined me, as I valued my life and your lordship's safety, to

deliver it into your own hands without delay."

So saying, he delivered the letter to his lord, who, gazing at its

address, which was, "To the Right Honourable the Lord Mounteagle,"

observed, "There is nothing very formidable in its appearance. What can

it mean?"

Without even breaking the seal, which was secured with a silken thread,

he gave it to one of his gentlemen, named Ward, who was standing near

him.

"Read it aloud, sir," said the Earl, with a slight smile. "I have no

doubt it is some vapouring effusion, which will afford us occasion for

laughter. Before I hear what the writer has to say, I can promise him he

shall not intimidate me."

Thus exhorted, Ward broken open the letter, and read as follows:--

"My lord, out of the love I bear to some of your friends, I have a care

of your preservation. Therefore I would advise you, as you tender your

life, to devise some excuse to shift from your attendance at this

Parliament, for God and man have concurred to punish the wickedness of

this time. Think not slightingly of this advice, but retire into the

country, where you may expect the event in safety; for, though there be

no appearance of any stir, yet I say they shall receive a terrible blow

this Parliament, and yet they shall not know who hurts them. This

counsel is not to be contemned. It may do you good, and can do you no

harm, for the danger is passed as soon as you have burned the letter.

God, I hope, will give you grace to make good use of it, to whose holy

protection I commend you."

"A singular letter!" exclaimed Mounteagle, as soon as Ward had finished.

"What is your opinion of it?"

"I think it hints at some dangerous plot, my lord," replied Ward, who

had received his instructions, "some treason against the state. With

submission, I would advise your lordship instantly to take it to the

Earl of Salisbury."

"I see nothing in it," replied the Earl. "What is your opinion, Mervyn?"

he added, turning to another of his gentlemen, to whom he had likewise

given his lesson.

"I am of the same mind as Ward," replied the attendant.

"Your lordship will hardly hold yourself excused, if you neglect to give

due warning, should aught occur hereafter."

"Say you so, sirs?" cried Lord Mounteagle. "Let me hear it once more."

The letter was accordingly read again by Ward, and the Earl feigned to

weigh over each passage.

"I am advised not to attend the Parliament," he said, "'for God and man

have concurred to punish the wickedness of this time.' That is too vague

to be regarded. Then I am urged to retire into the country. The

recommendation must proceed from some discontented Catholic, who does

not wish me to be present at the opening of the house. This is not the

first time I have been so adjured. 'They shall receive a terrible blow

this Parliament, and yet shall not know who hurts them.' That is

mysterious enough, but it may mean nothing,--any more than what follows,

namely, 'the danger is passed as soon as you have burnt the letter.'"

"I do not think so, my lord," replied Ward; "and though I cannot explain

the riddle, I am sure it means mischief."

"Well," said Lord Mounteagle, "since you are of this mind, I must lose

no time in communicating the letter to the Secretary of State. It is

better to err on the safe side."

Accordingly, after some further consultation, he set out at that late

hour for Whitehall, where he roused the Earl of Salisbury, and showed

him the letter. It is almost needless to state that the whole was a

preconcerted scheme between these two crafty statesmen; but as the

interview took place in the presence of their attendants, the utmost

caution was observed.

Salisbury pretended to be greatly alarmed at the communication, and

coupling it, he said, with previous intelligence which he had received,

he could not help fearing, to adopt the words of the writer of the

mysterious letter, that the Parliament was indeed threatened with some

"terrible blow." Acting, apparently, upon this supposition, he caused

such of the lords of the Privy Council as lodged at Whitehall to be

summoned, and submitting the letter to them, they all concurred in the

opinion that it referred to some dangerous plot, though none could give

a guess at its precise nature.

"It is clearly some Popish project," said Salisbury, "or Lord Mounteagle

would not have been the party warned. We must keep a look-out upon the

disaffected of his faith."

"As I have been the means of revealing the plot to your lordship--if

plot it be--I must pray you to deal gently with them," rejoined

Mounteagle.

"I will be as lenient as I can," returned Salisbury; "but in a matter of

this kind little favour can be shown. If your lordship will enable me to

discover the principal actors in this affair, I will take care that no

innocent party suffers."

"You ask an impossibility," replied Mounteagle. "I know nothing beyond

what can be gathered from that letter. But I pray your lordship not to

make it a means of exercising unnecessary severity towards the members

of my religion."

"On that you may rely," returned the Earl. "His Majesty will not return

from the hunting expedition on which he is engaged at Royston till

Thursday next, the 30th. I think it scarcely worth while (considering

his naturally timid nature, with which your lordships are well

acquainted) to inform him of the threatened danger, until his arrival at

the palace. It will then be time enough to take any needful steps, as

Parliament will not meet for four or five days afterwards."

In the policy of this course the Privy Councillors agreed, and it was

arranged that the matter should be kept perfectly secret until the

King's opinion had been taken upon the letter. The assemblage then broke

up, it being previously arranged that, for fear of some attempt upon his

life, Lord Mounteagle should remain within the palace till full

inquiries had been instituted into the affair.

When the two confederate nobles were left alone, Salisbury observed,

with a slight laugh, to his companion,

"Thus far we have proceeded well, and without suspicion, and, rely upon

it, none shall fall on you. As soon as all is over, the most important

post the King has to bestow shall be yours."

"But what of Tresham?" asked Mounteagle. "He was the deliverer of this

letter, and I have little faith in him."

"Hum!" said Salisbury, after a moment's reflection, "if you think it

desirable, we can remove him to the Tower, where he can be easily

silenced."

"It will be better so," replied Mounteagle. "He may else babble

hereafter. I gave him a thousand pounds to send in his own name to the

conspirators the other day to lure them into our nets."

"It shall be repaid you a hundred-fold," replied Salisbury. "But we are

observed, and must therefore separate."

So saying, he withdrew to his own chamber, while Lord Mounteagle was

ushered to the apartments allotted to him.

To return to Guy Fawkes. Arriving at Southwark, he stationed himself

near Lord Mounteagle's residence. But he observed nothing to awaken his

suspicions, until early in the morning he perceived a page approaching

the mansion, whom, from his livery, he knew to be one of Lord

Mounteagle's household, (it was, in fact, the very youth who had

delivered the mysterious letter,) and from him he ascertained all that

had occurred. Filled with alarm, and scarcely knowing what to do, he

crossed the river, and proceeding to the cellar, examined the marks at

the door, and finding all precisely as he had left it, felt certain,

that whatever discovery had been made, the magazine had not been

visited.

He next repaired to the house, of which he possessed the key, and was

satisfied that no one had been there. Somewhat relieved by this, he yet

determined to keep watch during the day, and concealing himself near the

cellar, remained on the look-out till night. But no one came; nor did

anything occur to excite his suspicions. He would not, however, quit his

post till about six o'clock on the following evening, when, thinking

further delay might be attended with danger, he set out to White Webbs,

to give his companions intelligence of the letter.

His news was received by all with the greatest alarm, and not one,

except Catesby, who strove to put a bold face upon the matter, though he

was full of inward misgiving, but confessed that he thought all chance

of success was at an end. While deliberating upon what should be done in

this fearful emergency, they were greatly alarmed by a sudden knocking

without. All the conspirators concealed themselves, except Guy Fawkes,

who opening the door, found, to his infinite surprise, that the summons

proceeded from Tresham. He said nothing till the other had entered the

house, and then suddenly drawing his dagger, held it to his throat.

"Make your shrift quickly, traitor," he cried in a furious tone, "for

your last hour is arrived. What ho!" he shouted to the others, who

instantly issued from their hiding-places, "the fox has ventured into

the lion's den."

"You distrust me wrongfully," rejoined Tresham, with more confidence

than he usually exhibited in time of danger; "I am come to warn you, not

betray you. Is this the return you make me for the service?"

"Villain!" cried Catesby, rushing up to him, and holding his drawn sword

to his breast. "You have conveyed the letter to Lord Mounteagle."

"It is false," replied Tresham; "I have only just heard of it; and, in

spite of the risk I knew I should run from your suspicions, I came to

tell you what had happened."

"Why did you feign illness, and depart secretly for town, instead of

joining us at Coughton?" demanded Catesby.

"I will instantly explain my motive, which, though it may not be

satisfactory to you on one point, will be so on another," replied

Tresham unhesitatingly, and with apparent frankness. "I was fearful you

would make a further tool of me, and resolved not to join you again till

a few days before the outbreak of the plot. To this determination I

should have adhered, had I not learnt to-night that a letter had been

transmitted by some one to Lord Mounteagle, which he had conveyed to the

Earl of Salisbury. It may not convey any notion of the plot, but it is

certain to occasion alarm, and I thought it my duty, in spite of every

personal consideration, to give you warning. If you design to escape,

there is yet time. A vessel lies in the river, in which we can all

embark for Flanders."

"Can he be innocent?" said Catesby in a whisper to Garnet.

"If I had betrayed you," continued Tresham, "I should not have come

hither. And I have no motive for such baseness, for I am in equal danger

with yourselves. But though the alarm has been given, I do not think any

discovery will be made. They are evidently on the wrong scent."

"I hope so," replied Catesby; "but I fear the contrary."

"Shall I put him to death?" demanded Fawkes of Garnet.

"Do not sully your hands with his blood, my son," returned Garnet. "If

he has betrayed us, he will reap the traitor's reward here and

hereafter. If he has not, it would be to take away a life unjustly. Let

him depart. We shall feel more secure without him."

"Will it be safe to set him free, father?" cried Fawkes.

"I think so," replied Garnet. "We will not admit him to our further

conferences; but let us act mercifully."

The major part of the conspirators concurring in this opinion, though

Fawkes and Catesby were opposed to it, Tresham was suffered to depart.

As soon as he was gone, Garnet avowed that the further prosecution of

the design appeared so hazardous, that it ought to be abandoned, and

that, in his opinion, each of the conspirators had better consult his

own safety by flight. He added, that at some future period the design

might be resumed, or another planned, which might be more securely

carried out.

After much discussion, all seemed disposed to acquiesce in the proposal,

except Fawkes, who adhered doggedly to his purpose, and treated the

danger so slightingly, that he gradually brought the others round to his

views. At length, it was resolved that Garnet should set out immediately

for Coughton Hall, and place himself under the protection of Sir Everard

Digby, and there await the result of the attempt, while the other

conspirators decided upon remaining in town, in some secure places of

concealment, until the event was known. Unmoved as ever, Guy Fawkes

declared his intention of watching over the magazine of powder.

"If anything happens to me," he said, "you will take care of yourselves.

You well know nothing will be wrung from me."

Catesby and the others, aware of his resolute nature, affected to

remonstrate with him, but they willingly suffered him to take his own

course. Attended by Bates, Garnet then set out for Warwickshire, and the

rest of the conspirators proceeded to London, where they dispersed,

after appointing Lincoln's Inn Walks as their place of midnight

rendezvous. Each then made preparations for sudden flight, in case it

should be necessary, and Rookwood provided relays of horses all the way

to Dunchurch.

Guy Fawkes alone remained at his post. He took up his abode in the

cellar, resolved to blow up himself together with his foes, in case of a

surprise.

On Thursday, the 31st of October, the King returned to Whitehall, and

the mysterious letter was laid before him in the presence of the Privy

Council by the Earl of Salisbury. James perused it carefully, but could

scarcely hide his perplexity.

"Your Majesty will not fail to remark the expressions, 'a terrible blow'

to the Parliament, and 'that the danger will be past as soon as you have

burnt the letter,' evidently referring to combustion," observed the

Earl.

"You are right, Salisbury," said James, snatching at the suggestion. "I

should not wonder if these mischievous Papists mean to blow us all up

with gunpowder."

"Your Majesty has received a divine illumination," returned the Earl.

"Such an idea never occurred to me; but it must be as you intimate."

"Undoubtedly--undoubtedly," replied the monarch, pleased with the

compliment to his sagacity, though alarmed by the danger; "but what

desperate traitors they must be to imagine such a deed! Blow us up!

God's mercy, that were a dreadful death! And yet that must evidently be

the meaning of the passage. How else can it be construed, except by

reference to the suddenness of the act, which might be as quickly

performed as that paper would take to be consumed in the fire?"

"Your Majesty's penetration has discovered the truth," replied

Salisbury, "and by the help of your wisdom, I will fully develop this

dark design. Where, think you, the powder may lie hidden?"

"Are there any vaults beneath the Parliament House?" demanded James,

trembling. "Heaven save us! We have often walked there--perhaps, over a

secret mine."

"There are," replied Salisbury; "and I am again indebted to your Majesty

for a most important suggestion. Not a corner in the vaults shall be

left unsearched. But, perhaps you will think with me, that, in order to

catch these traitors in their own trap, it will be well to defer the

search till the very night before the meeting of Parliament."

"I was about to recommend such a course myself, Salisbury," replied

James.

"I was sure you would think so," returned the Earl; "and now I must

entreat you to dismiss the subject from your thoughts, and to sleep

securely; for you may rely upon it (after your Majesty's discovery) that

the plot shall be fully unravelled."

The significant tone in which the Earl uttered the latter part of this

speech, convinced the King that he knew more of the matter than he cared

to confess; and he contented himself with saying, "Well, let it be so.

I trust all to you. But I at once divined their purpose,--I at once

divined it."

The Council then broke up, and James laughed and chuckled to himself at

the discernment he had displayed. Nor was he less pleased with his

minister for the credit given him in the affair. But he took care not to

enter the Parliament House.

On the afternoon of Monday, the 4th of November, the Lord Chamberlain,

accompanied by the Lords Salisbury and Mounteagle, visited the cellars

and vaults beneath the Parliament House. For some time, they discovered

nothing to excite suspicion. At length, probably at the suggestion of

Lord Mounteagle, who, as will be recollected, was acquainted with the

situation of the magazine, they proceeded to the cellar, where they

found the store of powder; but not meeting with any of the conspirators,

as they expected, they disturbed nothing, and went away, reporting the

result of their search to the King.

By the recommendation of the Earl of Salisbury, James advised that a

guard should be placed near the cellar during the whole of the night,

consisting of Topcliffe and a certain number of attendants, and headed

by Sir Thomas Knevet, a magistrate of Westminster, upon whose courage

and discretion full reliance could be placed. Lord Mounteagle also

requested permission to keep guard with them to witness the result of

the affair. To this the King assented, and as soon as it grew dark, the

party secretly took up their position at a point commanding the entrance

of the magazine.

Fawkes, who chanced to be absent at the time the search was made,

returned a few minutes afterwards, and remained within the cellar,

seated upon a barrel of gunpowder, the head of which he had staved in,

with a lantern in one hand, and petronel in the other, till past

midnight.

The fifth of November was now at hand, and the clock of the adjoining

abbey had scarcely ceased tolling the hour that proclaimed its arrival,

when Fawkes, somewhat wearied with his solitary watching, determined to

repair, for a short space, to the adjoining house. He accordingly

quitted the cellar, leaving his lantern lighted within it in one corner.

Opening the door, he gazed cautiously around, but perceiving nothing,

after waiting a few seconds, he proceeded to lock the door. While thus

employed, he thought he heard a noise behind him, and turning suddenly,

he beheld through the gloom several persons rushing towards him,

evidently with hostile intent. His first impulse was to draw a petronel,

and grasp his sword: but before he could effect his purpose, his arms

were pinioned by a powerful grasp from behind, while the light of a

lantern thrown full in his face revealed the barrel of a petronel

levelled at his head, and an authoritative voice commanded him in the

King's name to surrender.

[Illustration: _Guy Fawkes arrested by Sir Thomas Knevet and

Topcliffe_]

CHAPTER XIII.

THE FLIGHT OF THE CONSPIRATORS.

On the same night, and at the same hour that Guy Fawkes was captured,

the other conspirators held their rendezvous in Lincoln's Inn Walks. A

presentiment of the fate awaiting them filled the breasts of all, and

even Catesby shared in the general depression. Plan after plan was

proposed, and, as soon as proposed, rejected; and they seemed influenced

only by alarm and irresolution. Feeling at length that nothing could be

done, and that they were only increasing their risk by remaining

together longer, they agreed to separate, appointing to meet at the same

place on the following night, if their project should not, in the

interim, be discovered.

"Before daybreak," said Catesby, "I will proceed to the cellar under the

Parliament House, and ascertain whether anything has happened to Guy

Fawkes. My heart misgives me about him, and I reproach myself that I

have allowed him to incur this peril alone."

"Guy Fawkes is arrested," said a voice near them, "and is at this moment

under examination before the King."

"It is Tresham who speaks," cried Catesby; "secure him!"

The injunction was instantly obeyed. Tresham was seized, and several

weapons pointed against his breast. He did not, however, appear to be

dismayed, but, so far as could be discerned in the obscurity, seemed to

maintain great boldness of demeanour.

"I have again ventured among you, at the hazard of my life," he said, in

a firm tone, "to give you this most important intelligence; and am

requited, as I have ever been of late, with menaces and violence. Stab

me, and see whether my death will avail you in this extremity. I am in

equal danger with yourselves; and whether I perish by your hands, or by

those of the executioner, is of little moment."

"Let me question him before we avenge ourselves upon him," said Catesby

to Rookwood. "How do you know that Guy Fawkes is a prisoner?"

"I saw him taken," replied Tresham, "and esteem myself singularly

fortunate that I escaped the same fate. Though excluded from further

share in the project, I could not divest myself of a strong desire to

know how matters were going on, and I resolved to visit the cellar

secretly at midnight. As I stealthily approached it, I remarked several

armed figures beneath a gateway, and conjecturing their purpose,

instantly concealed myself behind a projection of the wall. I had not

been in this situation many minutes, when the cellar door opened, and

Guy Fawkes issued from it."

"Well!" cried Catesby, breathlessly.

"The party I had noticed immediately rushed forward, and secured him

before he could offer any resistance," continued Tresham. "After a brief

struggle, certain of their number dragged him into the cellar, while

others kept watch without. I should now have flown, but my limbs refused

their office, and I was therefore compelled, however reluctantly, to see

the end of it. In a short time Guy Fawkes was brought forth again, and I

heard some one in authority give directions that he should be instantly

taken to Whitehall, to be interrogated before the King and the Privy

Council. He was then led away, and a guard placed at the door of the

cellar. Feeling certain I should be discovered, I continued for some

time in an agony of apprehension, not daring to stir. But, at length,

summoning up sufficient resolution, I crept cautiously along the side of

the wall, and got off unperceived. My first object was to warn you."

"How did you become acquainted with our place of rendezvous?" demanded

the elder Wright.

"I overheard you, at our last interview at White Webbs, appoint a

midnight meeting in this place," replied Tresham, "and I hurried hither

in the hope of finding you, and have not been disappointed."

"When I give the word, plunge your swords into his breast," said

Catesby, in a low tone.

"Hold!" cried Percy, taking him aside. "If we put him to death in this

spot, his body will be found, and his slaughter may awaken suspicions

against us. Guy Fawkes will reveal nothing."

"Of that I am well assured," said Catesby. "Shall we take the traitor

with us to some secure retreat, where we can detain him till we learn

what takes place at the palace, and if we find he has betrayed us,

despatch him?"

"That would answer no good purpose," returned Percy "The sooner we are

rid of him the better. We can then deliberate as to what is best to be

done."

"You are right," rejoined Catesby. "If he _has_ betrayed us, life will

be a burthen to him, and the greatest kindness we could render him would

be to rid him of it. Let him go. Tresham," he added, in a loud voice,

"you are free. But we meet no more."

"We have not parted yet," cried the traitor, springing backwards, and

uttering a loud cry. "I arrest you all in the King's name."

The signal was answered by a band of soldiers, who emerged from behind

the trees where they had hitherto been concealed, and instantly

surrounded the conspirators.

"It is now my turn to threaten," laughed Tresham.

Catesby replied by drawing a petronel, and firing it in the supposed

direction of the speaker. But he missed his mark. The ball lodged in the

brain of a soldier who was standing beside him, and the ill-fated wretch

fell to the ground.

A desperate conflict now ensued. Topcliffe, who commanded the assailing

party, ordered his followers to take the conspirators alive, and it was

mainly owing to this injunction that the latter were indebted for their

safety. Whispering his directions to his companions, Catesby gave the

word, and making a simultaneous rush forward, they broke through the

opposing ranks, and instantly dispersing, and favoured by the gloom,

they baffled pursuit.

"We have failed in this part of our scheme," said Tresham to Topcliffe,

as they met half an hour afterwards. "What is to be done?"

"We must take the Earl of Salisbury's advice upon it," returned

Topcliffe. "I shall now hasten to Whitehall to see how Guy Fawkes's

interrogation proceeds, and will communicate with his lordship."

Upon this, they separated.

None of the conspirators met again that night. Each fled in a different

direction, and, ignorant of what had happened to the rest, sought some

secure retreat. Catesby ran towards Chancery-lane, and passing through a

narrow alley, entered the large gardens which then lay between this

thoroughfare and Fetter-lane. Listening to hear whether he was pursued,

and finding nothing to alarm him, he threw himself on the sod beneath a

tree, and was lost in painful reflection.

"All my fair schemes are marred by that traitor, Tresham," he muttered.

"I could forgive myself for being duped by him, if I had slain him when

he was in my power. But that he should escape to exult in our ruin, and

reap the reward of his perfidy, afflicts me even more than failure."

Tortured by thoughts like these, and in vain endeavouring to snatch such

brief repose as would fit him for the fatigue he might have to endure on

the morrow, he did not quit his position till late in the morning of a

dull November day--it was, as will be recollected, the memorable

Fifth--had arrived.

He then arose, and slouching his hat, and wrapping his cloak around him,

shaped his course towards Fleet-street. From the knots of persons

gathered together at different corners,--from their muttered discourse

and mysterious looks, as well as from the general excitement that

prevailed,--he felt sure that some rumour of the plot had gone abroad.

Shunning observation as much as he could, he entered a small tavern near

Fleet Bridge, and called for a flask of wine and some food. While

discussing these, he was attracted by the discourse of the landlord, who

was conversing with his guests about the conspiracy.

"I hear that all the Papists are to be hanged, drawn, and quartered,"

cried the host; "and if it be true, as I have heard, that this plot is

their contrivance, they deserve it. I hope I have no believer in that

faith--no recusant in my house."

"Don't insult us by any such suspicion," cried one of the guests. "We

are all loyal men--all good Protestants."

"Do you know whether the conspirators have been discovered, sir?" asked

the host of Catesby.

"I do not even know of the plot," replied the other. "What was its

object?"

"What was its object!" cried the host. "You will scarcely credit me when

I tell you. I tremble to speak of it. Its object was to blow up the

Parliament House, and the King and all the nobles and prelates of the

land along with it."

"Horrible!" exclaimed the guests.

"But how do you know it is a scheme of the Papists?" asked Catesby.

"Because I have been told so," rejoined the host. "But who else could

devise such a monstrous plan? It would never enter into the head or

heart of a Protestant to conceive so detestable an action. We love our

King too well for that, and would shed the last drop of our blood rather

than a hair of his head should be injured. But these priest-ridden

Papists think otherwise. They regard him as a usurper; and having

received a dispensation from the Pope to that effect, fancy it would be

a pious act to remove him. There will be no tranquillity in the kingdom

while one of them is left alive; and I hope his Majesty will take

advantage of the present ferment to order a general massacre of them,

like that of the poor Protestants on Saint Bartholomew's day in Paris."

"Ay,--massacre them," cried the guests; "that's the way. Burn their

houses and cut their throats. Will it be lawful to do so without further

authority, mine host? If so, we will set about it immediately."

"I cannot resolve you on that point," replied the landlord. "You had

better wait a short time. I dare say their slaughter will be publicly

commanded."

"Heaven grant it may be so!" cried one of the guests. "I will bear my

part in the business."

Catesby arose, paid his reckoning, and strode out of the tavern.

"Do you know, mine host," said the guest who had last spoken, "I half

suspect that tall fellow, who has just left us, is a Papist."

"Perhaps a conspirator," said another.

"Let us watch him," cried a third.

"Stay," cried the host, "he has paid me double my reckoning. I believe

him to be an honest man and a good Protestant."

"What you say confirms my suspicions," rejoined the first speaker. "We

will follow him."

On reaching Temple Bar, Catesby found the gates closed, and a guard

stationed at them,--no one being allowed to pass through without

examination. Not willing to expose himself to this scrutiny, Catesby

turned away, and in doing so, perceived three of the persons he had just

left in the tavern. The expression of their countenances satisfied him

they were dogging him; but affecting not to perceive it, he retraced his

steps, gradually quickening his pace until he reached a narrow street

leading into Whitefriars, down which he darted. The moment his pursuers

saw this, they hurried after him, shouting, "A Papist--a Papist!--a

conspirator!"

But Catesby was now safe. Claiming the protection of certain Alsatians

who were lounging at the door of a tavern, and offering to reward them,

they instantly drew their swords, and drove the others away, while

Catesby, tossing a few pieces of money to his preservers, passed through

a small doorway into the Temple, and making the best of his way to the

stairs, leaped into a boat, and ordered the waterman to row to

Westminster. The man obeyed, and plying his oars, soon gained the middle

of the stream. Little way, however, had been made, when Catesby descried

a large wherry, manned by several rowers, swiftly approaching them, and

instinctively comprehending whom it contained, ordered the man to rest

on his oars till it had passed.

In a few moments the wherry approached them. It was filled with

serjeants of the guard and halberdiers, in the midst of whom sat Guy

Fawkes. Catesby could not resist the impulse that prompted him to rise,

and the movement attracted the attention of the prisoner. The momentary

glance they exchanged convinced Catesby that Fawkes perceived him,

though his motionless features gave no token of recognition, and he

immediately afterwards fixed his eyes towards heaven, as if to

intimate,--at least Catesby so construed the gesture,--that his earthly

career was well-nigh ended. Heaving a deep sigh, Catesby watched the

wherry sweep on towards the Tower,--its fatal destination,--until it was

lost to view.

"All is over, I fear, with the bravest of our band," he thought, as he

tracked its course; "but some effort must be made to save him. At all

events, we will die sword in hand, and like soldiers, and not as common

malefactors."

Abandoning his intention of proceeding to Westminster, he desired the

man to pull ashore, and landing at Arundel Stairs, hastened to the

Strand. Here he found large crowds collected, the shops closed, and

business completely at a stand. Nothing was talked of but the

conspiracy, and the most exaggerated and extraordinary accounts of it

were circulated and believed. Some would have it that the Parliament

House was already blown up, and that the city of London itself had been

set fire to in several places by the Papists. It was also stated that

numerous arrests had taken place, and it was certain that the houses of

several Catholic nobles and wealthy gentlemen had been searched. To such

a height was the popular indignation raised, that it required the utmost

efforts of the soldiery to prevent the mob from breaking into these

houses, and using violence towards their inmates.

Every gate and avenue to the palace was strictly guarded, and troops of

horse were continually scouring the streets. Sentinels were placed

before suspected houses, and no one was suffered to enter them, or to go

forth without special permission. Detachments of soldiery were also

stationed at the end of all the main thoroughfares. Bars were thrown

across the smaller streets and outlets, and proclamation was made that

no one was to quit the city, however urgent his business, for three

days.

On hearing this announcement, Catesby saw at once that if he did not

effect his escape immediately, it would be impracticable. Accordingly,

he hurried towards Charing-cross, and turning up St. Martin's-lane, at

the back of the King's Mews, contrived to elude the vigilance of the

guard, and speeded along the lane,--for it was then literally so, and

surrounded on either side by high hedges,--until he came to St.

Giles's,--at this time nothing more than a few scattered houses,

intermixed with trees. Here he encountered a man mounted on a powerful

steed, and seeing this person look hard at him, would have drawn out of

the way, if the other had not addressed him by name. He then regarded

the equestrian more narrowly, and found it was Martin Heydocke.

"I have heard what has happened, Mr. Catesby," said Martin, "and can

imagine the desperate strait in which you must be placed. Take my

horse,--it may aid your flight. I was sent to London by my master, Mr.

Humphrey Chetham, to bring him intelligence of the result of your

attempt, and I am sure I am acting in accordance with his wishes in

rendering you such a service. At all events, I will risk it. Mount,

sir,--mount, and make the best of your way hence."

Catesby needed no further exhortation, but, springing into the saddle,

hastily murmured his thanks, and striking into a lane on the right, rode

off at a swift pace towards Highgate.

On reaching the brow of this beautiful hill, he drew in the bridle for a

moment, and gazed towards the city he had just quitted. Dark and bitter

were his thoughts as he fixed his eye upon Westminster Abbey, and

fancied he could discern the neighbouring pile, whose destruction he had

meditated. Remembering that from this very spot, when he had last

approached the capital, in company with Guy Fawkes and Viviana

Radcliffe, he had looked in the same direction, he could not help

contrasting his present sensations with those he had then experienced.

At that time he was full of ardour, and confident of success. Now, all

was lost to him, and he was anxious for little more than

self-preservation. Involuntarily, his eye wandered along the great city,

until passing over the mighty fabric of Saint Paul's, it settled upon

the Tower,--upon the place of Guy Fawkes's captivity.

"And can nothing be done for his deliverance?" sighed Catesby, as he

turned away, his eyes filling with moisture "must that brave soldier die

the death of a felon--must he be subjected to the torture--horror! If he

had died defending himself, I should scarcely have pitied him. And if he

had destroyed himself, together with his foes, as he resolved to do, I

should have envied him. But the idea of what he will have to suffer in

that dreadful place--nay, what he is now, perhaps, suffering--makes the

life-blood curdle in my veins. I will never fall alive into their

hands."

With this resolve, he struck spurs into his steed, and, urging him to a

swift pace, dashed rapidly forward. He had ridden more than a mile, when

hearing shouts behind him, he perceived two troopers galloping after him

as fast as their horses could carry them. They shouted to him to stay,

and as they were better mounted than he was, it was evident they would

soon come up with him. Determined, however, to adhere to the resolution

he had just formed, and not to yield himself with life, he prepared for

a conflict, and suddenly halting, he concealed a petronel beneath his

cloak, and waited till his foes drew near.

"I command you, in the King's name, to surrender," said the foremost

trooper, riding up. "You are a rebel and a traitor."

"Be this my answer," replied Catesby, aiming at the man, and firing with

such certainty, that he fell from his horse mortally wounded.

Unsheathing his sword, he then prepared to attack the other trooper.

But, terrified at the fate of his comrade, the man turned his horse's

head, and rode off.

Without bestowing a thought on the dying man who lay groaning in the

mire, Catesby caught hold of the bridle of his horse, and satisfied that

the animal was better than his own, mounted him, and proceeded at the

same headlong pace as before.

In a short time he reached Finchley, where several persons rushed from

their dwellings to inquire whether he brought any intelligence of the

plot, rumours of which had already reached them. Without stopping,

Catesby replied that most important discoveries had been made, and that

he was carrying despatches from the King to Northampton. No opposition

was therefore offered him, and he soon left all traces of habitation

behind him. Urging his horse to its utmost, he arrived, in less than a

quarter of an hour, at Chipping Barnet. Here the same inquiries were

made as at Finchley, and returning the same answer--for he never relaxed

his speed for a moment--he pursued his course.

In less than three quarters of an hour after this, he arrived at Saint

Albans, and proceeding direct to the post-house, asked for a horse. But

instead of complying with the request, the landlord of the Rose and

Crown--such was the name of the hostel--instantly withdrew, and returned

the next moment with an officer, who desired to speak with Catesby

before he proceeded further. The latter, however, took no notice of the

demand, but rode off.

The clatter of horses' hoofs behind him soon convinced him he was again

pursued, and he was just beginning to consider in what way he should

make a second defence, when he observed two horsemen cross a lane on the

left, and make for the main road. His situation now appeared highly

perilous, especially as his pursuers, who had noticed the other horsemen

at the same time as himself, shouted to them. But he was speedily

relieved. These persons, instead of stopping, accelerated their pace,

and appeared as anxious as he was to avoid those behind him.

They were now within a short distance of Dunstable, and were ascending

the lovely downs which lie on the London side of this ancient town, when

one of the horsemen in front chancing to turn round, Catesby perceived

it was Rookwood. Overjoyed at the discovery, he shouted to him at the

top of his voice, and the other, who it presently appeared was

accompanied by Keyes, instantly stopped. In a few seconds Catesby was by

their side, and a rapid explanation taking place, they all three drew up

in order of battle.

By this time their pursuers had arrived within a hundred yards of them,

and seeing how matters stood, and not willing to hazard an engagement,

after a brief consultation, retired. The three friends then pursued

their route, passed through Dunstable, and without pausing a moment on

the road, soon neared Fenny Stratford. Just before they arrived at this

place, Catesby's horse fell from exhaustion. Instantly extricating

himself from the fallen animal, he ran by the side of his companions

till they got to the town, where Rookwood, who had placed relays on the

road, changed his horse, and the others were fortunate enough to procure

fresh steeds.

Proceeding with unabated impetuosity, they soon cleared a few more

miles, and had just left Stony Stratford behind them, when they overtook

a solitary horseman, who proved to be John Wright, and a little further

on they came up with Percy, and Christopher Wright.

Though their numbers were thus increased, they did not consider

themselves secure, but flinging their cloaks away to enable them to

proceed with greater expedition, hurried on to Towcester. Here Keyes

quitted his companions, and shaped his course into Warwickshire, where

he was afterwards taken, while the others, having procured fresh horses,

made the best of their way to Ashby Saint Leger's.

About six o'clock, Catesby and his companions arrived at his old family

seat, which he had expected to approach in triumph, but which he now

approached with feelings of the deepest mortification and

disappointment. They found the house filled with guests--among whom was

Robert Winter--who were just sitting down to supper. Catesby rushed into

the room in which these persons were assembled, covered with mud and

dirt, his haggard looks and dejected appearance proclaiming that his

project had failed. His friends followed, and their appearance confirmed

the impression that he had produced. Lady Catesby hastened to her son,

and strove to comfort him; but he rudely repulsed her.

"What is the matter?" she anxiously inquired.

"What is the matter!" cried Catesby, in a furious tone, and stamping his

foot to the ground. "All is lost! our scheme is discovered; Guy Fawkes

is a prisoner, and ere long we shall all be led to the block. Yes, all!"

he repeated, gazing sternly around.

"I will never be led thither with life," said Robert Winter.

"Nor I," added a young Catholic gentleman, named Acton of Ribbesford,

who had lately joined the conspiracy. "Though the great design has

failed, we are yet free, and have swords to draw, and arms to wield

them."

"Ay," exclaimed Robert Winter, "all our friends are assembled at

Dunchurch. Let us join them instantly, and we may yet stir up a

rebellion which may accomplish all we can desire. I, myself, accompanied

Humphrey Littleton to Dunchurch this morning, and know we shall find

everything in readiness."

"Do not despair," cried Lady Catesby; "all will yet be well. Every

member of our faith will join you, and you will soon muster a formidable

army."

"We must not yield without a blow," cried Percy, pouring out a bumper of

wine, and swallowing it at a draught.

"You are right," said Rookwood, imitating his example. "We will sell our

lives dearly."

"If you will adhere to this resolution, gentlemen," rejoined Catesby,

"we may yet retrieve our loss. With five hundred stanch followers, who

will stand by me to the last, I will engage to raise such a rebellion in

England as shall not be checked, except by the acknowledgment of our

rights, or the dethronement of the king."

"We will all stand by you," cried the others.

"Swear it," cried Catesby, raising the glass to his lips.

"We do," was the reply.

"Wearied as we are," cried Catesby, "we must at once proceed to

Dunchurch, and urge our friends to rise in arms with us."

"Agreed," cried the others.

Summoning all his household, and arming them, Catesby then set out with

the rest for Dunchurch, which lay about five miles from Ashby Saint

Leger's. They arrived there in about three quarters of an hour, and

found the mansion crowded with Catholic gentlemen and their servants.

Entering the banquet hall, they found Sir Everard Digby at the head of

the board, with Garnet on his right hand. Upwards of sixty persons were

seated at the table. Their arrival was greeted with loud shouts, and

several of the guests drew their swords and flourished them over their

heads.

"What news?" cried Sir Everard Digby. "Is the blow struck?"

"No," replied Catesby; "we have been betrayed."

A deep silence prevailed. A change came over the countenances of the

guests. Significant glances were exchanged, and it was evident that

general uneasiness prevailed.

"What is to be done?" cried Sir Everard Digby, after a pause.

"Our course is clear," returned Catesby. "We must stand by each other.

In that case, we have nothing to fear, and shall accomplish our purpose,

though not in the way originally intended."

"I will have nothing further to do with the matter," said Sir Robert

Digby of Coleshill, Sir Everard's uncle. And rising, he quitted the room

with several of his followers, while his example was imitated by

Humphrey Littleton and others.

"All chance for the restoration of our faith in England is over,"

observed Garnet, in a tone of despondency.

"Not so, father," replied Catesby, "if we are true to each other. My

friends," he cried, stopping those who were about to depart, "in the

name of our holy religion I beseech you to pause. Much is against us

now. But let us hold together, and all will speedily be righted. Every

Catholic in this county, in Cheshire, in Lancashire, and Wales, must

flock to our standard when it is once displayed--do not desert us--do

not desert yourselves--for our cause is your cause. I have a large force

at my command; so has Sir Everard Digby, and together we can muster

nearly five hundred adherents. With these, we can offer such a stand as

will enable as to make conditions with our opponents, or even to engage

with them with a reasonable prospect of success. I am well assured,

moreover, if we lose no time, but proceed to the houses of our friends,

we shall have a large army with us. Do not fall off, then. On you

depends our success."

This address was followed by loud acclamations; and all who heard it

agreed to stand by the cause in which they had embarked to the last.

As Catesby left the banqueting-hall with Sir Everard, to make

preparations for their departure, they met Viviana and a female

attendant.

"I hear the enterprise has failed," she cried, in a voice suffocated by

emotion. "What has happened to my husband? Is he safe? Is he with you?"

"Alas! no," replied Catesby; "he is a prisoner."

Viviana uttered a cry of anguish, and fell senseless into the arms of

the attendant.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE EXAMINATION.

Disarmed by Sir Thomas Knevet and his followers, who found upon his

person a packet of slow matches and touchwood, and bound hand and foot,

Guy Fawkes was dragged into the cellar by his captors, who instantly

commenced their search. In a corner behind the door they discovered a

dark lantern, with a light burning within it; and moving with the utmost

caution--for they were afraid of bringing sudden destruction upon

themselves--they soon perceived the barrels of gunpowder ranged against

the wall. Carefully removing the planks, billets, and iron bars with

which they were covered, they remarked that two of the casks were staved

in, while the hoops from a third were taken off, and the powder

scattered around it. They also noticed that several trains were laid

along the floor,--everything, in short, betokening that the preparations

for the desperate deed were fully completed.

While they were making this investigation, Guy Fawkes, who, seeing that

further resistance was useless, had remained perfectly motionless up to

this moment, suddenly made a struggle to free himself; and so desperate

was the effort, that he burst the leathern thong that bound his hands,

and seizing the soldier nearest to him, bore him to the ground. He then

grasped the lower limbs of another, who held a lantern, and strove to

overthrow him, and wrest the lantern from his grasp, evidently intending

to apply the light to the powder. And he would unquestionably have

executed his terrible design, if three of the most powerful of the

soldiers had not thrown themselves upon him, and overpowered him. All

this was the work of a moment; but it was so startling, that Sir Thomas

Knevet and Topcliffe, though both courageous men, and used to scenes of

danger--especially the latter--rushed towards the door, expecting some

dreadful catastrophe would take place.

"Do him no harm," cried Knevet, as he returned to the soldiers, who

were still struggling with Fawkes,--"do him no harm. It is not here he

must die."

"A moment more, and I had blown you all to perdition," cried Fawkes.

"But Heaven ordained it otherwise."

"Heaven will never assist such damnable designs as yours," rejoined

Knevet. "Thrust him into that corner," he added to his men, who

instantly obeyed his injunctions, and held down the prisoner so firmly

that he could not move a limb. "Keep him there. I will question him

presently."

"You _may_ question me," replied Fawkes, sternly; "but you will obtain

no answer."

"We shall see," returned Knevet.

Pursuing the search with Topcliffe, he counted thirty-six hogsheads and

casks of various sizes, all of which were afterwards found to be filled

with powder. Though prepared for this discovery, Knevet could not

repress his horror at it, and gave vent to execrations against the

prisoner, to which the other replied by a disdainful laugh. They then

looked about, in the hope of finding some document or fragment of a

letter, which might serve as a clue to the other parties connected with

the fell design, but without success. Nothing was found except a pile of

arms; but though they examined them, no name or cipher could be traced

on any of the weapons.

"We will now examine the prisoner more narrowly," said Knevet.

This was accordingly done. On removing Guy Fawkes's doublet, a

horse-hair shirt appeared, and underneath it, next his heart, suspended

by a silken cord from his neck, was a small silver cross. When this was

taken from him, Guy Fawkes could not repress a deep sigh.

"There is some secret attached to that cross," whispered Topcliffe,

plucking Knevet's sleeve.

Upon this, the other held it to the light, while Topcliffe kept his eye

fixed upon the prisoner, and observed that, in spite of all his efforts

to preserve an unmoved demeanour, he was slightly agitated.

"Do you perceive anything?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Knevet, "there is a name. But the character is so small I

cannot decipher it."

"Let me look at it," said Topcliffe. "This is most important," he added,

after gazing at it for a moment; "the words inscribed on it are,

'_Viviana Radcliffe, Ordsall Hall_' You may remember that this young

lady was examined a short time ago, on suspicion of being connected with

some Popish plot against the state, and committed to the Tower, whence

she escaped in a very extraordinary manner. This cross, found upon the

prisoner, proves her connexion with the present plot. Every effort must

be used to discover her retreat."

Another deep sigh involuntarily broke from the breast of Guy Fawkes.

"You hear how deeply interested he is in the matter," observed

Topcliffe, in a low tone. "This trinket will be of infinite service to

us in future examinations, and may do more for us with this stubborn

subject even than the rack itself."

"You are right," returned Knevet. "I will now convey him to Whitehall,

and acquaint the Earl of Salisbury with his capture."

"Do so," replied Topcliffe. "I have a further duty to perform. Before

morning I hope to net the whole of this wolfish pack."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Knevet. "Have you any knowledge of the others?"

Topcliffe smiled significantly.

"Time will show," he said. "But if you do not require me further, I will

leave you."

With this, he quitted the cellar, and joined the Earl of Mounteagle and

Tresham, who were waiting for him outside at a little distance from the

cellar. After a brief conference, it was arranged, in compliance with

the Earl of Salisbury's wishes, that if they failed in entrapping the

conspirators, nothing should be said about the matter. He then departed

with Tresham. Their subsequent proceedings have already been related.

By Sir Thomas Knevet's directions, Guy Fawkes was now raised by two of

the soldiers, and led out of the cellar. As he passed through the door,

he uttered a deep groan.

"You groan for what you have done, villain," said one of the soldiers.

"On the contrary," rejoined Fawkes, sternly, "I groan for what I have

not done."

He was then hurried along by his conductors, and conveyed through the

great western gate, into the palace of Whitehall, where he was placed in

a small room, the windows of which were strongly grated.

Before quitting him, Sir Thomas Knevet put several questions to him, but

he maintained a stern and obstinate silence. Committing him to the

custody of an officer of the guard, whom he enjoined to keep strict

guard over him, as he valued his life, Knevet then went in search of the

Earl of Salisbury.

The Secretary, who had not retired to rest, and was anxiously awaiting

his arrival, was delighted with the success of the scheme. They were

presently joined by Lord Mounteagle; and after a brief conference it was

resolved to summon the Privy Council immediately, to rouse the King, and

acquaint him with what had occurred, and to interrogate the prisoner in

his presence.

"Nothing will be obtained from him, I fear," said Knevet. "He is one of

the most resolute and determined fellows I ever encountered."

And he then related the desperate attempt made by Fawkes in the vault to

blow them all up.

"Whether he will speak or not, the King must see him," said Salisbury.

As soon as Knevet was gone, the Earl observed to Mounteagle, "You had

now better leave the palace. You must not appear further in this matter,

except as we have arranged. Before morning, I trust we shall have the

whole of the conspirators in our power, with damning proofs of their

guilt."

"By this time, my lord, they are in Tresham's hands," replied

Mounteagle.

"If he fails, not a word must be said," observed Salisbury. "It must not

be supposed we have moved in the matter. All great statesmen have

contrived treasons, that they might afterwards discover them; and though

I have not contrived this plot, I have known of its existence from the

first, and could at any time have crushed it had I been so minded. But

that would not have answered my purpose. And I shall now use it as a

pretext to crush the whole Catholic party, except those on whom, like

yourself, I can confidently rely."

"Your lordship must admit that I have well seconded your efforts,"

observed Mounteagle.

"I do so," replied Salisbury, "and you will not find me ungrateful.

Farewell! I hope soon to hear of our further success."

Mounteagle then took his departure, and Salisbury immediately caused all

such members of the Privy Council as lodged in the palace to be aroused,

desiring they might be informed that a terrible plot had been

discovered, and a conspirator arrested. In a short time, the Duke of

Lennox, the Earl of Marr, Lord Hume, the Earl of Southampton, Lord Henry

Howard, Lord Mountjoy, Sir George Hume, and others, were assembled; and

all eagerly inquired into the occasion of the sudden alarm.

Meanwhile, the Earl of Salisbury had himself repaired to the King's

bedchamber, and acquainted him with what had happened. James immediately

roused himself, and desired the chamberlain, who accompanied the Earl,

to quit the presence.

"Will it be safe to interrogate the prisoner here?" he asked.

"I will take care your Majesty shall receive no injury," replied

Salisbury; "and it is absolutely necessary you should examine him before

he is committed to the Tower."

"Let him be brought before me, then, directly," said the King. "I am

impatient to behold a wretch who has conceived so atrocious--so infernal

a design against me, and against my children. Hark 'e, Salisbury, one

caution I wish to observe. Let a captain of the guard, with his drawn

sword in hand, place himself between me and the prisoner, and let two

halberdiers stand beside him, and if the villain moves a step, bid them

strike him dead. You understand?"

[Illustration: _Guy Fawkes interrogated by King James the First_]

"Perfectly," replied Salisbury, bowing.

"In that case, you may take off his bonds--that is, if you think it

prudent to do so--not otherwise," continued James. "I would not have the

knave suppose he can awe me."

"Your Majesty's commands shall be fulfilled to the letter," returned the

Earl.

"Lose no time, Salisbury," cried James, springing out of bed, and

beginning to dress himself without the assistance of his chamberlain.

The Earl hastily retired, and ordered the attendants to repair to their

royal master. He next proceeded to the chamber where Guy Fawkes was

detained, and ordered him to be unbound, and brought before the King.

When the prisoner heard this mandate, a slight smile crossed his

countenance, but he instantly resumed his former stern composure. The

smile, however, did not escape the notice of Salisbury, and he commanded

the halberdiers to keep near to the prisoner, and if he made the

slightest movement in the King's presence, instantly to despatch him.

Giving some further directions, the Earl then led the way across a

court, and entering another wing of the palace, ascended a flight of

steps, and traversed a magnificent corridor. Guy Fawkes followed,

attended by the guard. They had now reached the antechamber leading to

the royal sleeping apartment, and "Salisbury ascertained from the

officers in attendance that all was in readiness. Motioning the guard to

remain where they were, he entered the inner room alone, and found James

seated on a chair of state near the bed, surrounded by his council;--the

Earl of Marr standing on his right hand, and the Duke of Lennox on his

left, all anxiously awaiting his arrival. Behind the King were stationed

half a dozen halberdiers.

"The prisoner is without," said Salisbury. "Is it your Majesty's

pleasure that he be admitted?"

"Ay, let him come in forthwith," replied James. "Stand by me, my lords.

And do you, varlets, keep a wary eye upon him. There is no saying what

he may attempt."

Salisbury then waved his hand. The door was thrown open, and an officer

entered the room, followed by Guy Fawkes, who marched between two

halberdiers. When within a couple of yards of the King, the officer

halted, and withdrew a little on the right, so as to allow full view of

the prisoner, while he extended his sword between him and the King.

Nothing could be more undaunted than the looks and demeanour of Fawkes.

He strode firmly into the room, and without making any reverence, folded

his arms upon his breast, and looked sternly at James.

"A bold villain!" cried the King, as he regarded him with curiosity not

unmixed with alarm. "Who, and what are you, traitor?"

"A conspirator," replied Fawkes.

"That I know," rejoined James, sharply. "But how are you called?"

"John Johnson," answered Fawkes. "I am servant to Mr. Thomas Percy."

"That is false," cried Salisbury. "Take heed that you speak the truth,

traitor, or the rack shall force it from you."

"The rack will force nothing from me," replied Fawkes, sternly; "neither

will I answer any question asked by your lordship."

"Leave him to me, Salisbury,--leave him to me," interposed James. "And

it was your hellish design to blow us all up with gunpowder?" he

demanded.

"It was," replied Fawkes.

"And how could you resolve to destroy so many persons, none of whom have

injured you?" pursued James.

"Dangerous diseases require desperate remedies," replied Fawkes. "Milder

means have been tried, but without effect. It was God's pleasure that

this scheme, which was for the benefit of his holy religion, should not

prosper, and therefore I do not repine at the result."

"And are you so blinded as to suppose that Heaven can approve the

actions of him who raises his hand against the King--against the Lord's

anointed?" cried James.

"He is no king who is excommunicated by the apostolic see," replied

Fawkes.

"This to our face!" cried James, angrily. "Have you no remorse--no

compunction for what you have done?"

"My sole regret is that I have failed," replied Fawkes.

"You will not speak thus confidently on the rack," said James.

"Try me," replied Fawkes.

"What purpose did you hope to accomplish by this atrocious design?"'

demanded the Earl of Marr.

"My main purpose was to blow back the beggarly Scots to their native

mountains," returned Fawkes.

"This audacity surpasses belief," said James. "Mutius Scaevola, when in

the presence of Porsenna, was not more resolute. Hark 'e, villain, if I

give you your life, will you disclose the names of your associates?"

"No," replied Fawkes.

"They shall be wrung from you," cried Salisbury.

Fawkes smiled contemptuously. "You know me not," he said.

"It is idle to interrogate him further," said James. "Let him be removed

to the Tower."

"Be it so," returned Salisbury; "and when next your Majesty questions

him, I trust it will be in the presence of his confederates."

"Despite the villain's horrible intent, I cannot help admiring his

courage," observed James, in a low tone; "and were he as loyal as he is

brave, he should always be near our person."

With this, he waved his hand, and Guy Fawkes was led forth. He was

detained by the Earl of Salisbury's orders till the morning,--it being

anticipated that before that time the other conspirators would be

arrested. But as this was not the case, he was placed in a wherry, and

conveyed, as before related, to the Tower.

END OF THE SECOND BOOK

Book the Third.

THE CONSPIRATORS.

The conclusion shall be from the admirable clemency and moderation

of the king; in that, howsoever these traitors have exceeded all

others in mischief, yet neither will the king exceed the usual

punishment of law, nor invent any new torture or torment for them,

but is graciously pleased to afford them as well an ordinary

course of trial as an ordinary punishment much inferior to their

offence. And surely worthy of observation is the punishment by law

provided and appointed for high treason: for, first, after a

traitor hath had his just trial, and is convicted and attainted,

he shall have his judgment to be drawn to the place of execution

from his prison, as being not worthy any more to tread upon the

face of the earth whereof he was made; also, for that he hath been

retrograde to nature, therefore is he drawn backward at a

horsetail. After, to have his head cut off which had imagined the

mischief. And, lastly, his body to be quartered, and the quarters

set up in some high and eminent place, to the view and detestation

of men, and to become a prey for the fowls of the air. And this is

a reward due to traitors, whose hearts be hardened; for that it is

a physic of state and government to let out corrupt blood from the

heart.--_Sir Edward Coke's Speech on the Gunpowder Treason._

CHAPTER I.

HOW GUY FAWKES WAS PUT TO THE TORTURE.

Intimation of the arrest of Guy Fawkes having been sent to the Tower,

his arrival was anxiously expected by the warders and soldiers composing

the garrison, a crowd of whom posted themselves at the entrance of

Traitor's Gate, to obtain a sight of him. As the bark that conveyed the

prisoner shot through London Bridge, and neared the fortress, notice of

its approach was given to the lieutenant, who, scarcely less impatient,

had stationed himself in a small circular chamber in one of the turrets

of Saint Thomas's or Traitor's Tower, overlooking the river. He hastily

descended, and had scarcely reached the place of disembarkation, when

the boat passed beneath the gloomy archway, the immense wooden wicket

closed behind it; and the officer in command springing ashore, was

followed more deliberately by Fawkes, who mounted the slippery stairs

with a firm footstep. As he gained the summit, the spectators pressed

forward; but Sir William Waad, ordering them in an authoritative tone to

stand back, fixed a stern and scrutinizing glance on the prisoner.

"Many vile traitors have ascended those steps," he said, "but none so

false-hearted, none so bloodthirsty as you."

"None ever ascended them with less misgiving, or with less

self-reproach," replied Fawkes.

"Miserable wretch! Do you glory in your villany?" cried the lieutenant.

"If anything could heighten my detestation of the pernicious creed you

profess, it would be to witness its effects on such minds as yours. What

a religion must that be, which can induce its followers to commit such

monstrous actions, and delude them into the belief that they are pious

and praiseworthy!"

"It is a religion, at least, that supports them at seasons when they

most require it," rejoined Fawkes.

"Peace!" cried the lieutenant, fiercely, "or I will have your viperous

tongue torn out by the roots."

Turning to the officer, he demanded his warrant, and glancing at it,

gave some directions to one of the warders, and then resumed his

scrutiny of Fawkes, who appeared wholly unmoved, and steadily returned

his gaze.

Meanwhile, several of the spectators, eager to prove their loyalty to

the king, and abhorrence of the plot, loaded the prisoner with

execrations, and finding these produced no effect, proceeded to personal

outrage. Some spat upon his face and garments; some threw mud, gathered

from the slimy steps, upon him; some pricked him with the points of

their halberds; while others, if they had not been checked, would have

resorted to greater violence. Only one bystander expressed the slightest

commiseration for him. It was Ruth Ipgreve, who, with her parents,

formed part of the assemblage.

A few kindly words pronounced by this girl moved the prisoner more than

all the insults he had just experienced. He said nothing, but a slight

and almost imperceptible quivering of the lip told what was passing

within. The jailer was extremely indignant at his daughter's conduct,

fearing it might prejudice him in the eyes of the lieutenant.

"Get hence, girl," he cried, "and stir not from thy room for the rest of

the day. I am sorry I allowed thee to come forth."

"You must look to her, Jasper Ipgreve," said Sir William Waad, sternly.

"No man shall hold an office in the Tower who is a favourer of papacy.

If you were a good Protestant, and a faithful servant of King James,

your daughter could never have acted thus unbecomingly. Look to her, I

say,--and to yourself."

"I will, honourable sir," replied Jasper, in great confusion. "Take her

home directly," he added, in an under tone to his wife. "Lock her up

till I return, and scourge her if thou wilt. She will ruin us by her

indiscretion."

In obedience to this injunction, Dame Ipgreve seized her daughter's

hand, and dragged her away. Ruth turned for a moment to take a last look

at the prisoner, and saw that his gaze followed her, and was fraught

with an expression of the deepest gratitude. By way of showing his

disapproval of his daughter's conduct, the jailer now joined the

bitterest of Guy Fawkes's assailants; and ere long the assemblage became

infuriated to such an ungovernable pitch, that the lieutenant, who had

allowed matters to proceed thus far in the hope of shaking the

prisoner's constancy, finding his design fruitless, ordered him to be

taken away. Escorted by a dozen soldiers with calivers on their

shoulders, Guy Fawkes was led through the archway of the Bloody Tower,

and across the Green to the Beauchamp Tower. He was placed in the

spacious chamber on the first floor of that fortification, now used as a

mess-room by the Guards. Sir William Waad followed him, and seating

himself at a table, referred to the warrant.

"You are here called John Johnson. Is that your name?" he demanded.

"If you find it thus written, you need make no further inquiry from me,"

replied Fawkes. "I am the person so described. That is sufficient for

you."

"Not so," replied the lieutenant; "and if you persist in this stubborn

demeanour, the severest measures will be adopted towards you. Your sole

chance of avoiding the torture is in making a full confession."

"I do not desire to avoid the torture," replied Fawkes. "It will wrest

nothing from me."

"So all think till they have experienced it," replied the lieutenant;

"but greater fortitude than yours has given way before our engines."

Fawkes smiled disdainfully, but made no answer.

The lieutenant then gave directions that he should be placed within a

small cell adjoining the larger chamber, and that two of the guard

should remain constantly beside him, to prevent him from doing himself

any violence.

"You need have no fear," observed Fawkes. "I shall not destroy my chance

of martyrdom."

At this juncture a messenger arrived, bearing a despatch from the Earl

of Salisbury. The lieutenant broke the seal, and after hurriedly

perusing it, drew his sword, and desiring the guard to station

themselves outside the door, approached Fawkes.

"Notwithstanding the enormity of your offence," he observed, "I find his

Majesty will graciously spare your life, provided you will reveal the

names of all your associates, and disclose every particular connected

with the plot."

Guy Fawkes appeared lost in reflection, and the lieutenant, conceiving

he had made an impression upon him, repeated the offer.

"How am I to be assured of this?" asked the prisoner.

"My promise must suffice," rejoined Waad.

"It will not suffice to me," returned Fawkes. "I must have a pardon

signed by the King."

"You shall have it on one condition," replied Waad. "You are evidently

troubled with few scruples. It is the Earl of Salisbury's conviction

that the heads of many important Catholic families are connected with

this plot. If they should prove to be so,--or, to be plain, if you will

accuse certain persons whom I will specify, you shall have the pardon

you require."

"Is this the purport of the Earl of Salisbury's despatch?" asked Guy

Fawkes.

The lieutenant nodded.

"Let me look at it," continued Fawkes. "You may be practising upon me."

"Your own perfidious nature makes you suspicious of treachery in

others," cried the lieutenant. "Will this satisfy you?"

And he held the letter towards Guy Fawkes, who instantly snatched it

from his grasp.

"What ho!" he shouted in a loud voice; "what ho!" and the guards

instantly rushed into the room. "You shall learn why you were sent away.

Sir William Waad has offered me my life, on the part of the Earl of

Salisbury, provided I will accuse certain innocent parties--innocent,

except that they are Catholics--of being leagued with me in my design.

Read this letter, and see whether I speak not the truth."

And he threw it among them. But no one stirred, except a warder, who,

picking it up, delivered it to the lieutenant.

"You will now understand whom you have to deal with," pursued Fawkes.

"I do," replied Waad. "But were you as unyielding as the walls of this

prison, I would shake your obduracy."

"I pray you not to delay the experiment," said Fawkes.

"Have a little patience," retorted Waad. "I will not balk your humour,

depend upon it."

With this, he departed, and repairing to his lodgings, wrote a hasty

despatch to the Earl, detailing all that had passed, and requesting a

warrant for the torture, as he was apprehensive, if the prisoner expired

under the severe application that would be necessary to force the truth

from him, he might be called to account. Two hours afterwards the

messenger returned with the warrant. It was in the handwriting of the

King, and contained a list of interrogations to be put to the prisoner,

concluding by directing him "to use the gentler torture first, _et sic

per gradus ad ima tenditur_. And so God speed you in your good work!"

Thus armed, and fearless of the consequences, the lieutenant summoned

Jasper Ipgreve.

"We have a very refractory prisoner to deal with," he said, as the

jailer appeared. "But I have just received the royal authority to put

him through all the degrees of torture if he continues obstinate. How

shall we begin?"

"With the Scavenger's Daughter and the Little Ease, if it please you,

honourable sir," replied Ipgreve. "If these fail, we can try the

gauntlets and the rack; and lastly, the dungeon among the rats, and the

hot stone."

"A good progression," said the lieutenant, smiling. "I will now repair

to the torture-chamber. Let the prisoner be brought there without delay.

He is in the Beauchamp Tower."

Ipgreve bowed and departed, while the lieutenant, calling to an

attendant to bring a torch, proceeded along a narrow passage

communicating with the Bell Tower. Opening a secret door within it, he

descended a flight of stone steps, and traversing a number of intricate

passages, at length stopped before a strong door, which he pushed aside,

and entered the chamber he had mentioned to Ipgreve. This dismal

apartment has already been described. It was that in which Viviana's

constancy was so fearfully approved. Two officials in the peculiar garb

of the place--a sable livery--were occupied in polishing the various

steel implements. Besides these, there was the chirurgeon, who was

seated at a side table, reading by the light of a brazen lamp. He

instantly arose on seeing the lieutenant, and began, with the other

officials, to make preparations for the prisoner's arrival. The two

latter concealed their features by drawing a large black capoch, or

hood, attached to their gowns over them, and this disguise added

materially to their lugubrious appearance. One of them then took down a

broad iron hoop, opening in the centre with a hinge, and held it in

readiness. Their preparations were scarcely completed when heavy

footsteps announced the approach of Fawkes and his attendants. Jasper

Ipgreve ushered them into the chamber, and fastened the door behind

them. All the subsequent proceedings were conducted with the utmost

deliberation, and were therefore doubly impressive. No undue haste

occurred, and the officials, who might have been mistaken for phantoms

or evil spirits, spoke only in whispers. Guy Fawkes watched their

movements with unaltered composure. At length, Jasper Ipgreve signified

to the lieutenant that all was ready.

"The opportunity you desired of having your courage put to the test is

now arrived," said the latter to the prisoner.

"What am I to do?" was the reply.

"Remove your doublet, and prostrate yourself," subjoined Ipgreve.

Guy Fawkes obeyed, and when in this posture began audibly to recite a

prayer to the Virgin.

"Be silent," cried the lieutenant, "or a gag shall be thrust into your

mouth."

Kneeling upon the prisoner's shoulders, and passing the hoop under his

legs, Ipgreve then succeeded, with the help of his assistants, who added

their weight to his own, in fastening the hoop with an iron button.

This done, they left the prisoner with his limbs and body so tightly

compressed together that he was scarcely able to breathe. In this state

he was allowed to remain for an hour and a half. The chirurgeon then

found on examination that the blood had burst profusely from his mouth

and nostrils, and in a slighter degree from the extremities of his hands

and feet.

"He must be released," he observed in an under tone to the lieutenant.

"Further continuance might be fatal."

Accordingly, the hoop was removed, and it was at this moment that the

prisoner underwent the severest trial. Despite his efforts to control

himself, a sharp convulsion passed across his frame, and the restoration

of impeded circulation and respiration occasioned him the most acute

agony.

The chirurgeon bathed his temples with vinegar, and his limbs being

chafed by the officials, he was placed on a bench.

"My warrant directs me to begin with the 'gentler tortures,' and to

proceed by degrees to extremities," observed the lieutenant,

significantly. "You have now had a taste of the milder sort, and may

form some conjecture what the worst are like. Do you still continue

contumacious?"

"I am in the same mind as before," replied Fawkes, in a hoarse but firm

voice.

"Take him to the Little Ease, and let him pass the night there," said

the lieutenant. "To-morrow I will continue the investigation."

Fawkes was then led out by Ipgreve and the officials, and conveyed along

a narrow passage, until arriving at a low door, in which there was an

iron grating, it was opened, and disclosed a narrow cell about four feet

high, one and a few inches wide, and two deep. Into this narrow

receptacle, which seemed wholly inadequate to contain a tall and

strongly-built man like himself, the prisoner was with some difficulty

thrust, and the door locked upon him.

In this miserable plight, with his head bent upon his breast,--the cell

being so contrived that its wretched inmate could neither sit, nor

recline at full length within it,--Guy Fawkes prayed long and fervently;

and no longer troubled by the uneasy feelings which had for some time

haunted him, he felt happier in his present forlorn condition than he

had been when anticipating the full success of his project.

"At least," he thought, "I shall now win myself a crown of martyrdom,

and whatever my present sufferings may be, they will be speedily effaced

by the happiness I shall enjoy hereafter."

Overcome, at length, by weariness and exhaustion, he fell into a sort of

doze--it could scarcely be called sleep--and while in this state,

fancied he was visited by Saint Winifred, who, approaching the door of

the cell, touched it, and it instantly opened. She then placed her hand

upon his limbs, and the pain he had hitherto felt in them subsided.

"Your troubles will soon be over," murmured the saint, "and you will be

at rest. Do not hesitate to confess. Your silence will neither serve

your companions nor yourself." With these words the vision disappeared,

and Guy Fawkes awoke. Whether it was the effect of imagination, or that

his robust constitution had in reality shaken off the effects of the

torture, it is impossible to say, but it is certain that he felt his

strength restored to him, and attributing his recovery entirely to the

marvellous interposition of the saint, he addressed a prayer of

gratitude to her. While thus occupied, he heard--for it was so dark he

could distinguish nothing--a sweet low voice at the grating of the cell,

and imagining it was the same benign presence as before, paused and

listened.

"Do you hear me?" asked the voice.

"I do," replied Fawkes. "Is it the blessed Winifred, who again

vouchsafes to address me?"

"Alas, no!" replied the voice; "it is one of mortal mould. I am Ruth

Ipgreve, the jailer's daughter. You may remember that I expressed some

sympathy in your behalf at your landing at Traitor's Gate to-day, for

which I incurred my father's displeasure. But you will be quite sure I

am a friend, when I tell you I assisted Viviana Radcliffe to escape."

"Ha!" exclaimed Guy Fawkes, in a tone of great emotion.

"I was in some degree in her confidence," pursued Ruth; "and, if I am

not mistaken, you are the object of her warmest regard."

The prisoner could not repress a groan.

"You are Guy Fawkes," pursued Ruth. "Nay, you need have no fear of me. I

have risked my life for Viviana, and would risk it for you."

"I will disguise nothing from you," replied Fawkes. "I am he you have

named. As the husband of Viviana--for such I am--I feel the deepest

gratitude to you for the service you rendered her. She bitterly

reproached herself with having placed you in so much danger. How did you

escape?"

"I was screened by my parents," replied Ruth. "It was given out by them

that Viviana escaped through the window of her prison, and I was thus

preserved from punishment. Where is she now?"

"In safety, I trust," replied Fawkes. "Alas! I shall never behold her

again."

"Do not despair," returned Ruth. "I will try to effect your liberation;

and though I have but slender hope of accomplishing it, still there is a

chance."

"I do not desire it," returned Fawkes. "I am content to perish. All I

lived for is at an end."

"This shall not deter me from trying to save you," replied Ruth; "and I

still trust there is happiness in store for you with Viviana. Amid all

your sufferings, rest certain there is one who will ever watch over you.

I dare not remain here longer, for fear of a surprise. Farewell!"

She then departed, and it afforded Guy Fawkes some solace to ponder on

the interview during the rest of the night.

On the following morning Jasper Ipgreve appeared, and placed before him

a loaf of the coarsest bread, and a jug of dirty water. His scanty meal

ended, he left him, but returned in two hours afterwards with a party of

halberdiers, and desiring him to follow him, led the way to the

torture-chamber. Sir William Waad was there when he arrived, and

demanding in a stern tone whether he still continued obstinate, and

receiving no answer, ordered him to be placed in the gauntlets. Upon

this, he was suspended from a beam by his hands, and endured five hours

of the most excruciating agony--his fingers being so crushed and

lacerated that he could not move them.

He was then taken down, and still refusing to confess, was conveyed to a

horrible pit, adjoining the river, called, from the loathsome animals

infesting it, "the dungeon among the rats." It was about twenty feet

wide and twelve deep, and at high tide was generally more than two feet

deep in water.

Into this dreadful chasm was Guy Fawkes lowered by his attendants, who,

warning him of the probable fate that awaited him, left him in total

darkness. At this time the pit was free from water; but he had not been

there more than an hour, when a bubbling and hissing sound proclaimed

that the tide was rising, while frequent plashes convinced him that the

rats were at hand. Stooping down, he felt that the water was alive with

them--that they were all around him--and would not, probably, delay

their attack. Prepared as he was for the worst, he could not repress a

shudder at the prospect of the horrible death with which he was menaced.

At this juncture, he was surprised by the appearance of a light, and

perceived at the edge of the pit a female figure bearing a lantern. Not

doubting it was his visitant of the former night, he called out to her,

and was answered in the voice of Ruth Ipgreve.

"I dare not remain here many minutes," she said, "because my father

suspects me. But I could not let you perish thus. I will let down this

lantern to you, and the light will keep away the rats. When the tide

retires you can extinguish it."