Sir William Radcliffe made no reply, but endeavoured gently to push her aside.

She would not, however, be repulsed, but prostrating herself before him, clasped his knees, and besought him not to proceed.

Making a significant gesture to Sir William, Garnet walked forward.

“Viviana,” cried the knight, sternly, “my resolution is taken. I command you to retire to your chamber.”

So saying, he broke from her, and followed Garnet. Clasping her hands to her brow, Viviana gazed for a moment with a frenzied look after him, and then rushed from the gallery.

On reaching the chapel, Sir William, who had been much shaken by this meeting, was some minutes in recovering his composure. Garnet employed the time in renewing his arguments, and with so much address that he succeeded in quieting the scruples of conscience which had been awakened in the knight's breast by his daughter's warning.

“And now, my son,” he said, “since you have determined to enrol your name in the list of those sworn to deliver their church from oppression, take this primer in your hand, and kneel down before the altar, while I administer the oath which is to unite you to us.”

Garnet then advanced towards the altar, and Sir William was about to prostrate himself upon a cushion beside it, when the door was suddenly thrown open, and Guy Fawkes strode into the chapel.

“Hold!” he exclaimed, grasping Radcliffe's right arm, and fixing his dark glance upon him; “you shall not take that oath.”

“What mean you?” cried Garnet, who, as well as the knight, was paralyzed with astonishment at this intrusion. “Sir William Radcliffe is about to join us.”

“I know it,” replied Fawkes; “but it may not be. He has no heart in the business, and will lend it no efficient assistance. We are better without him, than with him.”

As he spoke, he took the primer from the knight's hand, and laid it upon the altar.

“This conduct is inexplicable,” cried Garnet, angrily. “You will answer for it to others, as well as to me.”

“I will answer for it to all,” replied Guy Fawkes. “Let Sir William Radcliffe declare before me, and before Heaven, that he approves the measure, and I am content he should take the oath.”

“I cannot belie my conscience by saying so,” replied the knight, who appeared agitated by conflicting emotions.

“Yet you have promised to join us,” cried Garnet, reproachfully.

“Better break that promise than a solemn oath,” rejoined Guy Fawkes, sternly. “Sir William Radcliffe, there are reasons why you should not join this conspiracy. Examine your inmost heart, and it will tell you what they are.”

“I understand you,” replied the knight.

“Get hence,” cried Garnet, unable to control his indignation, “or I will pronounce our Church's most terrible malediction against you.”

“I shall not shrink from it, father,” rejoined Fawkes, humbly, but firmly, “seeing I am acting rightly.”

“Undeceive yourself, then, at once,” returned Garnet, “and learn that you are thwarting our great and holy purpose.”

“On the contrary,” replied Fawkes, “I am promoting it, by preventing one from joining it who will endanger its success.”

“You are a traitor!” cried Garnet, furiously.

“A traitor!” exclaimed Guy Fawkes, his eye blazing with fierce lustre, though his voice and demeanour were unaltered,—"I, who have been warned thrice,—twice by the dead,—and lastly by a vision from heaven, yet still remain firm to my purpose,—I, who have voluntarily embraced the most dangerous and difficult part of the enterprise,—I, who would suffer the utmost extremity of torture, rather than utter a word that should reveal it,—a traitor! No, father, I am none. If you think so, take this sword and at once put an end to your doubts.”

There was something so irresistible in the manner of Guy Fawkes, that Garnet remained silent.

“Do with me what you please,” continued Fawkes; “but do not compel Sir William Radcliffe to join the conspiracy. He will be fatal to it.”

“No one shall compel me to join it,” replied the knight.

“Perhaps it is better thus,” returned Garnet, after a pause, during which he was buried in reflection. “I will urge you no further, my son. But before you depart you must swear not to divulge what you have just learnt.”

“Willingly,” replied the knight.

“There is another person who must also take that oath,” said Guy Fawkes, “having accidentally become acquainted with as much as yourself.”

And stepping out of the chapel, he immediately afterwards returned with Viviana.

“You will now understand why I would not allow Sir William to join the conspiracy,” he observed to Garnet.

“I do,” replied the latter, gloomily.

The oath administered, the knight and his daughter quitted the chapel, accompanied by Guy Fawkes. Viviana was profuse in her expressions of gratitude, nor was her father less earnest in his acknowledgments.

A few hours after this, Sir William Radcliffe informed Sir Everard Digby that it was his intention to depart immediately, and, though the latter attempted to dissuade him by representing the danger to which he would be exposed, he continued inflexible. The announcement surprised both Catesby and Garnet, who were present when it was made, and added their entreaties to those of Digby—but without effect. Catesby's proposal to serve as an escort was likewise refused by Sir William, who said he had no fears, and when questioned as to his destination, he returned an evasive answer. This sudden resolution of the knight coupled with his refusal to join the plot, alarmed the conspirators, and more than one expressed fears of treachery. Sir Everard Digby, however, was not of the number, but asserted that Radcliffe was a man of the highest honour, and he would answer for his secrecy with his life.

“Will you answer for that of his daughter?” demanded Tresham.

“I will,” replied Fawkes.

“To put the matter beyond a doubt,” observed Catesby, “I will set out shortly after him, and follow him unobserved till he halts for the night, and ascertain whether he stops at any suspicious quarter.”

“Do so, my son,” replied Garnet.

“It is needless,” observed Sir Everard Digby; “but do as you please.”

By this time, Radcliffe's horses being brought round by Heydocke, he and his daughter took a hasty leave of their friends. When they had been gone a few minutes, Catesby called for his steed; and, after exchanging a word or two with Garnet, rode after them. He had proceeded about a couple of miles along a cross-road leading to Nantwich, which he learnt from some cottagers was the route taken by the party before him, when he heard the tramp of a horse in the rear, and, turning at the sound, beheld Guy Fawkes. Drawing in the bridle, he halted till the latter came up, and angrily demanded on what errand he was bent.

“My errand is the same as your own,” replied Fawkes. “I intend to follow Sir William Radcliffe, and, if need be, defend him.”

Whatever Catesby's objections might be to this companionship, he did not think fit to declare them, and, though evidently much displeased, suffered Guy Fawkes to ride by his side without opposition.

Having gained the summit of the mountainous range extending from Malpas to Tottenhall, whence they beheld the party whose course they were tracking enter a narrow lane at the foot of the hill, Catesby, fearful of losing sight of them, set spurs to his steed. Guy Fawkes kept close beside him, and they did not slacken their pace until they reached the lane.

Having proceeded along it for a quarter of a mile, they were alarmed by the sudden report of fire-arms, followed by a loud shriek, which neither of them doubted was uttered by Viviana. Again dashing forward, on turning a corner of the road, they beheld the party surrounded by half-a-dozen troopers. Sir William Radcliffe had shot one of his assailants, and, assisted by Heydocke, was defending himself bravely against the others. With loud shouts, Catesby and Guy Fawkes galloped towards the scene of strife. But they were too late. A bullet pierced the knight's brain; and he no sooner fell, than, regardless of himself, the old steward flung away his sword, and threw himself, with the most piteous lamentations, on the body.

Viviana, meanwhile, had been compelled to dismount, and was in the hands of the troopers. On seeing her father's fate, her shrieks were so heart-piercing, that even her captors were moved to compassion. Fighting his way towards her, Catesby cut down one of the troopers, and snatching her from the grasp of the other, who was terrified by the furious assault, placed her on the saddle beside him, and striking spurs into his charger at the same moment, leapt the hedge, and made good his retreat.

This daring action, however, could not have been accomplished without the assistance of Guy Fawkes, who warded off with his rapier all the blows aimed at him and his lovely charge. While thus engaged, he received a severe cut on the head, which stretched him senseless and bleeding beneath his horse's feet.

ToC

CHAPTER XIV.

Catesby raised his finger to his lips, and Fawkes learnt the distressing nature of the question he had asked by the agonizing cry that burst from Viviana. Unable to control her grief, she withdrew, and Catesby then told him that the body of Sir William Radcliffe was lying in an adjoining cottage, whither it had been transported from the scene of the conflict; adding that it was Viviana's earnest desire that it should be conveyed to Manchester to the family vault in the Collegiate Church; but that he feared her wish could not be safely complied with. A messenger, however, had been despatched to Holt; and Sir Everard Digby, and Fathers Garnet and Oldcorne, were momentarily expected, when some course would be decided upon for the disposal of the unfortunate knight's remains.

“Poor Viviana!” groaned Fawkes. “She has now no protector.”

“Rest easy on that score,” rejoined Catesby. “She shall never want one while I live.”

The wounded man fixed his eyes, now blazing with red and unnatural light, inquiringly upon him, but he said nothing.

“I know what you mean,” continued Catesby; “you think I shall wed her, and you are in the right. I shall. The marriage is essential to our enterprise; and the only obstacle to it is removed.”

Fawkes attempted to reply, but his parched tongue refused its office. Catesby arose, and carefully raising his head, held a cup of water to his lips. The sufferer eagerly drained it, and would have asked for more; but seeing that the request would be refused, he left it unuttered.

“Have you examined my wound?” he said, after a pause.

Catesby answered in the affirmative.

“And do you judge it mortal?” continued Fawkes. “Not that I have any fear of Death. I have looked him in the face too often for that. But I have somewhat on my mind which I would fain discharge before my earthly pilgrimage is ended.”

“Do not delay it, then,” rejoined the other. “Knowing I speak to a soldier, and a brave one, I do not hesitate to tell you your hours are numbered.”

“Heaven's will be done!” exclaimed Fawkes, in a tone of resignation. “I thought myself destined to be one of the chief instruments of the restoration of our holy religion. But I find I was mistaken. When Father Garnet arrives, I beseech you let me see him instantly. Or, if he should not come speedily, entreat Miss Radcliffe to grant me a few moments in private.”

“Why not unburthen yourself to me?” returned Catesby, distrustfully. “In your circumstances I should desire no better confessor than a brother soldier,—no other crucifix than a sword-hilt.”

“Nor I,” rejoined Fawkes. “But this is no confession I am about to make. What I have to say relates to others, not to myself.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Catesby. “Then there is the more reason why it should not be deferred. I hold it my duty to tell you that the fever of your wound will, in all probability, produce delirium. Make your communication while your senses remain to you. And whatever you enjoin shall be rigorously fulfilled.”

“Will you swear this?” cried Fawkes, eagerly. But before an answer could be returned, he added, in an altered tone, “No,—no,—it cannot be.”

“This is no time for anger,” rejoined Catesby, sternly, “or I should ask whether you doubt the assurance I have given you?”

“I doubt nothing but your compliance with my request,” returned Fawkes. “And oh! if you hope to be succoured at your hour of need, tell Miss Radcliffe I desire to speak with her.”

“The message will not need to be conveyed,” said Viviana, who had noiselessly entered the room; “she is here.”

Guy Fawkes turned his gaze in the direction of the voice; and, notwithstanding his own deplorable condition, he was filled with concern at the change wrought in her appearance by the terrible shock she had undergone. Her countenance was as pale as death,—her eyes, from which no tears would flow, as is ever the case with the deepest distress, were glassy and lustreless,—her luxuriant hair hung in dishevelled masses over her shoulders,—and her attire was soiled and disordered.

“You desire to speak with me,” she continued, advancing towards the couch of the wounded man.

“It must be alone,” he replied.

Viviana glanced at Catesby, who reluctantly arose, and closed the door after him. “We are alone now,” she said.

“Water! water!” gasped the sufferer, “or I perish.” His request being complied with, he continued in a low solemn voice, “Viviana, you have lost the dearest friend you had on earth, and you will soon lose one who, if he had been spared, would have endeavoured, as far as he could, to repair the loss. I say not this to aggravate your distress, but to prove the sincerity of my regard. Let me conjure you, with my dying breath, not to wed Mr. Catesby.”

“Fear it not,” replied Viviana. “I would rather endure death than consent to do so.”

“Be upon your guard against him, then,” continued Fawkes. “When an object is to be gained, he suffers few scruples to stand in his way.”

“I am well aware of it,” replied Viviana; “and on the arrival of Sir Everard Digby, I shall place myself under his protection.”

“Should you be driven to extremity,” said Fawkes, taking a small packet from the folds of his doublet, “break open this; it will inform you what to do. Only promise me you will not have recourse to it till all other means have failed.”

Viviana took the packet, and gave the required promise.

“Conceal it about your person, and guard it carefully,” continued Fawkes; “for you know not when you may require it. And now, having cleared my conscience, I can die easily. Let me have your prayers.”

Viviana knelt down by the bedside, and poured forth the most earnest supplications in his behalf.

“Perhaps,” she said, as she arose, “and it is some consolation to think so,—you may be saved by death from the commission of a great crime, which would for ever have excluded you from the joys of heaven.”

“Say rather,” cried Guy Fawkes, whose brain began to wander, “which would have secured them to me. Others will achieve it; but I shall have no share in their glory, or their reward.”

“Their reward will be perdition in this world and in the next,” rejoined Viviana. “I repeat, that though I deeply deplore your condition, I rejoice in your delivery from this sin. It is better—far better—to die thus, than by the hands of the common executioner.”

“What do I see?” cried Guy Fawkes, trying to raise himself, and sinking back again instantly upon the pillow. “Elizabeth Orton rises before me. She beckons me after her—I come!—I come!”

“Heaven pity him!” cried Viviana. “His senses have left him!”

“She leads me into a gloomy cavern,” continued Fawkes, more wildly; “but my eyes are like the wolf's, and can penetrate the darkness. It is filled with barrels of gunpowder. I see them ranged in tiers, one above another. Ah! I know where I am now. It is the vault beneath the Parliament-house. The King and his nobles are assembled in the hall above. Lend me a torch, that I may fire the train, and blow them into the air. Quick! quick! I have sworn their destruction, and will keep my oath. What matter if I perish with them? Give me the torch, I say, or it will be too late. Is the powder damp that it will not kindle? And see! the torch is expiring—it is gone out! Distraction!—to be baffled thus! Why do you stand and glare at me with your stony eyes? Who are those with you? Fiends!—no! they are armed men. They seize me—they drag me before a grave assemblage. What is that hideous engine? The rack!—Bind me on it—break every limb—ye shall not force me to confess—ha! ha! I laugh at your threats—ha! ha!”

“Mother of mercy! release him from this torture!” cried Viviana.

“So! ye have condemned me,” continued Fawkes, “and will drag me to execution. Well, well, I am prepared. But what a host is assembled to see me! Ten thousand faces are turned towards me, and all with one abhorrent bloodthirsty expression. And what a scaffold! Get it done quickly, thou butcherly villain. The rope is twisted round my throat in serpent folds. It strangles me—ah!”

“Horror!” exclaimed Viviana. “I can listen to this no longer. Help, Mr. Catesby, help!”

“The knife is at my breast—it pierces my flesh—my heart is torn forth—I die! I die!” And he uttered a dreadful groan.

“What has happened?” cried Catesby, rushing into the room. “Is he dead?”

“I fear so,” replied Viviana; “and his end has been a fearful one.”

“No—no,” said Catesby; “his pulse still beats—but fiercely and feverishly. You had better not remain here longer, Miss Radcliffe. I will watch over him. All will soon be over.”

Aware that she could be of no further use, Viviana cast a look of the deepest commiseration at the sufferer, and retired. The occupant of the cottage, an elderly female, had surrendered all the apartments of her tenement, except one small room, to her guests, and she was therefore undisturbed. The terrible event which had recently occurred, and the harrowing scene she had just witnessed, were too much for Viviana, and her anguish was so intense, that she began to fear her reason was deserting her. She stood still,—gazed fearfully round, as if some secret danger environed her,—clasped her hands to her temples, and found them burning like hot iron,—and, then, alarmed at her own state, knelt down, prayed, and wept. Yes! she wept, for the first time, since her father's destruction, and the relief afforded by those scalding tears was inexpressible.

From this piteous state she was aroused by the tramp of horses at the door of the cottage, and the next moment Father Garnet presented himself.

“How uncertain are human affairs!” he said, after a sorrowful greeting had passed between them. “I little thought, when we parted yesterday, we should meet again so soon, and under such afflicting circumstances.”

“It is the will of Heaven, father,” replied Viviana, “and we must not murmur at its decrees, but bear our chastening as we best may.”

“I am happy to find you in such a comfortable frame of mind, dear daughter. I feared the effect of the shock upon your feelings. But I am glad to find you bear up against it so well.”

“I am surprised at my own firmness, father,” replied Viviana. “But I have been schooled in affliction. I have no tie left to bind me to the world, and shall retire from it, not only without regret, but with eagerness.”

“Say not so, dear daughter,” replied Garnet. “You have, I trust, much happiness in store for you; and when the sharpness of your affliction is worn off, you will view your condition in a more cheering light.”

“Impossible!” she cried, mournfully. “Hope is wholly extinct in my breast. But I will not contest the point. Is not Sir Everard Digby with you?”

“He is not, daughter,” replied Garnet, “and I will explain to you wherefore. Soon after your departure yesterday, the mansion we occupied at Holt was attacked by a band of soldiers, headed by Miles Topcliffe, one of the most unrelenting of our persecutors; and though they were driven off with some loss, yet, as there was every reason to apprehend, they would return with fresh force, Sir Everard judged it prudent to retreat; and accordingly he and his friends, with all their attendants, except those he has sent with me, have departed for Buckinghamshire.”

“Where, then, is Father Oldcorne?” inquired Viviana.

“Alas! daughter,” rejoined Garnet, “I grieve to say he is a prisoner. Imprudently exposing himself during the attack, he was seized and carried off by Topcliffe and his myrmidons.”

“How true is the saying that misfortunes never come single!” sighed Viviana. “I seem bereft of all I hold dear.”

“Sir Everard has sent four of his trustiest servants with me,” remarked Garnet. “They are well armed, and will attend you wherever you choose to lead them. He has also furnished me with a sum of money for your use.”

“He is most kind and considerate,” replied Viviana. “And now, father," she faltered, “there is one subject which it is necessary to speak upon; and, though I shrink from it, it must not be postponed.”

“I guess what you mean, daughter,” said Garnet, sympathizingly; “you allude to the interment of Sir William Radcliffe. Is the body here?”

“It is in an adjoining cottage,” replied Viviana in a broken voice. “I have already expressed my wish to Mr. Catesby to have it conveyed to Manchester, to our family vault.”

“I see not how that can be accomplished, dear daughter,” replied Garnet; “but I will confer with Mr. Catesby on the subject. Where is he?”

“In the next room, by the couch of Guy Fawkes, who is dying,” said Viviana.

“Dying!” echoed Garnet, starting. “I heard he was dangerously hurt, but did not suppose the wound would prove fatal. Here is another grievous blow to the good cause.”

At this moment the door was opened by Catesby.

“How is the sufferer?” asked Garnet.

“A slight change for the better appears to have taken place,” answered Catesby. “His fever has in some decree abated, and he has sunk into a gentle slumber.”

“Can he be removed with safety?” inquired Garnet; “for, I fear, if he remains here, he will fall into the hands of Topcliffe and his crew, who are scouring the country in every direction.” And he recapitulated all he had just stated to Viviana.

Catesby was for some time lost in reflection.

“I am fairly perplexed as to what course it will be best to pursue,” he said. “Dangers and difficulties beset us on every side. I am inclined to yield to Viviana's request, and proceed to Manchester.”

“That will be rushing into the very face of danger,” observed Garnet.

“And, therefore, may be the safest plan,” replied Catesby. “Our adversaries will scarcely suspect us of so desperate a step.”

“Perhaps you are in the right, my son,” returned Garnet, after a moment's reflection. “At all events, I bow to your judgment.”

“The plan is too much in accordance with my own wishes to meet with any opposition on my part,” observed Viviana.

“Will you accompany us, father?” asked Catesby; “or do you proceed to Gothurst?”

“I will go with you, my son. Viviana will need a protector. And, till I have seen her in some place of safety, I will not leave her.”

“Since we have come to this determination,” rejoined Catesby, “as soon as the needful preparations can be made, and Guy Fawkes has had some hours' repose, we will set out. Under cover of night we can travel with security; and, by using some exertion, may reach Ordsall Hall, whither, I presume, Viviana would choose to proceed, in the first instance, before daybreak.”

“I am well mounted, and so are my attendants,” replied Garnet; “and, by the provident care of Sir Everard Digby, each of them has a led horse with him.”

“That is well,” said Catesby. “And now, Viviana, may I entreat you to take my place for a short time by the couch of the sufferer. In a few hours everything shall be in readiness.”

He then retired with Garnet, while Viviana proceeded to the adjoining chamber, where she found Guy Fawkes still slumbering tranquilly.

As the evening advanced, he awoke, and appeared much refreshed. While he was speaking, Garnet and Catesby approached his bedside, and he seemed overjoyed at the sight of the former. The subject of the journey being mentioned to him, he at once expressed his ready compliance with the arrangement, and only desired that the last rites of his church might be performed for him before he set out.

Garnet informed him that he had come for that very purpose; and as soon as they were left alone, he proceeded to the discharge of his priestly duties, confessed and absolved him, giving him the viaticum and the extreme unction. And, lastly, he judged it expedient to administer a powerful opiate, to lull the pain of his wound on the journey.

This done, he summoned Catesby, who, with two of the attendants, raised the couch on which the wounded man was stretched, and conveyed him to the litter. So well was this managed, that Fawkes sustained no injury, and little inconvenience, from the movement. Two strong country vehicles had been procured; the one containing the wounded man's litter, the other the shell, which had been hastily put together, to hold the remains of the unfortunate Sir William Radcliffe. Viviana being placed in the saddle, and Catesby having liberally rewarded the cottagers who had afforded them shelter, the little cavalcade was put in motion. In this way they journeyed through the night; and shaping their course through Tarporley, Northwich, and Altringham, arrived at daybreak in the neighbourhood of Ordsall Hall.

ToC

CHAPTER XV.

Led by curiosity Catesby proceeded to the spot where the stables had stood. Nothing but a heap of blackened ruins met his gaze. Scarcely one stone was standing on another. The appearance of the place was so desolate and disheartening, that he turned away instantly. Leaving his horse in a shed, he entered the house. Here, again, he encountered fresh ravages. The oak-panels and skirting-boards were torn from the walls; the ceilings pulled down; and the floor lay inch-deep in broken plaster and dust. On ascending to the upper rooms, he found the same disorder. The banisters of the stairs were broken; the bedsteads destroyed; the roof partially untiled. Every room was thickly strewn with leaves torn from valuable books, with fragments of apparel, and other articles, which the searchers not being able to carry off had wantonly destroyed.

Having contemplated this scene of havoc for some time, with feelings of the bitterest indignation, Catesby descended to the lowest story; and, after searching ineffectually for the domestics, was about to depart, when, turning suddenly, he perceived a man watching him from an adjoining room. Catesby instantly called to him; but, seeing that the fellow disregarded his assurances, and was about to take to his heels, he drew his sword, and threatened him with severe punishment if he attempted to fly. Thus exhorted, the man—who was no other than the younger Heydocke—advanced towards him; and throwing himself at his feet, begged him in the most piteous terms to do him no injury.

“I have already told you I am a friend,” replied Catesby, sheathing his sword.

“Ah! Mr. Catesby, is it you I behold?” cried Martin Heydocke, whose fears had hitherto prevented him from noticing the features of the intruder. “What brings your worship to this ill-fated house?”

“First let me know if there is any enemy about?” replied Catesby.

“None that I am aware of,” rejoined Martin. “Having ransacked the premises, and done all the mischief they could, as you perceive, the miscreants departed the day before yesterday, and I have seen nothing of them since, though I have been constantly on the watch. The only alarm I have had was that occasioned by your worship just now.”

“Are you alone here?” demanded Catesby.

“No, your worship,” answered Martin. “There are several of the servants concealed in a secret passage under the house. But they are so terrified by what has lately happened, that they never dare show themselves, except during the night-time.”

“I do not wonder at it,” replied Catesby.

“And now may I inquire whether your worship brings any tidings of Sir William Radcliffe and Mistress Viviana?” rejoined Martin. “I hope no ill has befallen them. My father, old Jerome Heydocke, set out to Holywell a few days ago, to apprise them of their danger, and I have not heard of them since.”

“Sir William Radcliffe is dead,” replied Catesby. “The villains have murdered him. Your father is a prisoner.”

“Alas! alas!” cried the young man, bursting into tears; “these are fearful times to live in. What will become of us all?”

“We must rise against the oppressor,” replied Catesby, sternly. “Bite the heel that tramples upon us.”

“We must,” rejoined Martin. “And if my poor arm could avail, it should not be slow to strike.”

“Manfully resolved!” cried Catesby, who never lost an opportunity of gaining a proselyte. “I will point out to you a way by which you may accomplish what you desire. But we will talk of this hereafter. Hoard up your vengeance till the fitting moment for action arrives.”

He then proceeded to explain to the young man, who was greatly surprised by the intelligence, that Viviana was at hand, and that the body of Sir William had been brought thither for interment in the family vault at the Collegiate Church. Having ascertained that there was a chamber, which, having suffered less than the others, might serve for Viviana's accommodation, Catesby returned to the party.

A more melancholy cavalcade has been seldom seen than now approached the gates of Ordsall Hall. First rode Viviana, in an agony of tears, for her grief had by this time become absolutely uncontrollable, with Catesby on foot, leading her horse. Next came Garnet, greatly exhausted and depressed; his eyes cast dejectedly on the ground. Then came the litter, containing Guy Fawkes; and, lastly, the vehicle with the body of Sir William Radcliffe. On arriving at the gate, Viviana was met by two female servants, whom Martin Heydocke had summoned from their hiding-places; and, as soon as she had dismounted, she was supported, for she was scarcely able to walk unaided, to the chamber destined for her reception. This done, Catesby proceeded, with some anxiety, to superintend the removal of Fawkes, who was perfectly insensible. His wound had bled considerably during the journey; but the effusion had stopped when the faintness supervened. He was placed in one of the lower rooms till a sleeping-chamber could be prepared for him. The last task was to attend to the remains of the late unfortunate possessor of the mansion. By Catesby's directions a large oak table, once occupying the great hall, was removed to the Star Chamber, already described as the principal room of the house; and, being securely propped up,—for, like the rest of the furniture, it had been much damaged by the spoilers, though, being of substantial material, it offered greater resistance to their efforts,—the shell containing the body was placed upon it.

“Better he should lie thus,” exclaimed Catesby, when the melancholy office was completed, “than live to witness the wreck around him. Fatal as are these occurrences,” he added, pursuing the train of thought suggested by the scene, “they are yet favourable to my purpose. The only person who could have prevented my union with Viviana Radcliffe—her father—lies there. Who would have thought when she rejected my proposal a few days ago, in this very room, how fortune would conspire—and by what dark and inscrutable means—to bring it about! Fallen as it is, this house is not yet fallen so low, but I can reinstate it. Its young mistress mine, her estates mine,—for she is now inheritress of all her father's possessions,—the utmost reach of my ambition were gained, and all but one object of my life—for which I have dared so much, and struggled so long—achieved!”

“What are you thinking of, my son?” asked Garnet, who had watched the changing expression of his sombre countenance,—"what are you thinking of?” he said, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Of that which is never absent from my thoughts, father—the great design,” replied Catesby; “and of the means of its accomplishment, which this sad scene suggests.”

“I do not understand you, my son,” rejoined the other.

“Does not Radcliffe's blood cry aloud for vengeance?” continued Catesby; “and think you his child will be deaf to the cry? No, father, she will no longer tamely submit to wrongs that would steel the gentlest bosom, and make firm the feeblest arm, but will go hand and heart with us in our project. Viviana must be mine,” he added, altering his tone, “ours, I should say,—for, if she is mine, all the vast possessions that have accrued to her by her father's death shall be devoted to the furtherance of the mighty enterprise.”

“I cannot think she will refuse you now, my son,” replied Garnet.

“She shall not refuse me, father,” rejoined Catesby. “The time is gone by for idle wooing.”

“I will be no party to forcible measures, my son,” returned Garnet, gravely. “As far as persuasion goes, I will lend you every assistance in my power, but nothing further.”

“Persuasion is all that will be required, I am assured, father," answered Catesby, hastily, perceiving he had committed himself too far. “But let us now see what can be done for Guy Fawkes.”

“Would there was any hope of his life!” exclaimed Garnet, sighing deeply. “In losing him, we lose the bravest of our band.”

“We do,” returned Catesby. “And yet he has been subject to strange fancies of late.”

“He has been appalled, but never shaken,” rejoined Garnet. “Of all our number, you and he were the only two upon whom I could rely. When he is gone, you will stand alone.”

Catesby made no reply, but led the way to the chamber where the wounded man lay. He had regained his consciousness, but was too feeble to speak. After such restoratives as were at hand had been administered, Catesby was about to order a room to be fitted up for him, when Viviana, whose anxiety for the sufferer had overcome her affliction, made her appearance. On learning Catesby's intentions, she insisted upon Fawkes being removed to the room allotted to her, which had not been dismantled like the rest. Seeing it was in vain to oppose her, Catesby assented, and the sufferer was accordingly carried thither, and placed within the bed—a large antique piece of furniture, hung with faded damask curtains. The room was one of the oldest in the house, and at the further end stood a small closet, approached by an arched doorway, and fitted up with a hassock and crucifix, which, strange to say, had escaped the ravages of the searchers.

Placed within the couch, Guy Fawkes began to ramble as before about the conspiracy; and fearing his ravings might awaken the suspicion of the servants, Catesby would not suffer any of them to come near him, but arranged with Garnet to keep watch over him by turns. By degrees, he became more composed; and, after dozing a little, opened his eyes, and, looking round, inquired anxiously for his sword. At first, Catesby, who was alone with him at the time, hesitated in his answer, but seeing he appeared greatly disturbed, he showed him that his hat, gauntlets, and rapier were lying by the bedside.

“I am content,” replied the wounded man, smiling faintly; “that sword has never left my side, waking or sleeping, for twenty years. Let me grasp it once more—perhaps for the last time.”

Catesby handed him the weapon. He looked at it for a few moments, and pressed the blade to his lips.

“Farewell, old friend!” he said, a tear gathering in his eye, “farewell! Catesby,” he added, as he resigned the weapon to him, “I have one request to make. Let my sword be buried with me.”

“It shall,” replied Catesby, in a voice suffocated by emotion, for the request touched him where his stern nature was most accessible: “I will place it by you myself.”

“Thanks!” exclaimed Fawkes. And soon after this, he again fell into a slumber.

His sleep endured for some hours; but his breathing grew fainter and fainter, so that at the last it was scarcely perceptible. A striking change had likewise taken place in his countenance, and these signs convinced Catesby he had not long to live. While he was watching him with great anxiety, Viviana appeared at the door of the chamber, and beckoned him out. Noiselessly obeying the summons, and following her along the gallery, he entered a room where he found Garnet.

“I have called you to say that a remedy has been suggested to me by Martin Heydocke,” observed Viviana, “by which I trust Guy Fawkes may yet be saved.”

“How?” asked Catesby, eagerly.

“Doctor Dee, the warden of Manchester, of whom you must have heard,” she continued, “is said to possess an elixir of such virtue, that a few drops of it will snatch him who drinks them from the very jaws of death.”

“I should not have suspected you of so much credulity, Viviana,” replied Catesby; “but grant that Doctor Dee possesses this marvellous elixir—which for my own part I doubt—how are we to obtain it?”

“If you will repair to the college, and see him, I doubt not he will give it you,” rejoined Viviana.

Catesby smiled incredulously.

“I have a claim upon Doctor Dee,” she persisted, “which I have never enforced. I will now use it. Show him this token,” she continued, detaching a small ornament from her neck; “tell him you bring it from me, and I am sure he will comply with your request.”

“Your commands shall be obeyed, Viviana,” replied Catesby; “but I frankly confess I have no faith in the remedy.”

“It is at least worth the trial, my son,” observed Garnet. “Doctor Dee is a wonderful person, and has made many discoveries in medicine, as in other sciences, and this marvellous specific may, for aught we know, turn out no imposture.”

“If such is your opinion,” replied Catesby, “I will set out at once. If it is to be tried at all, it must be without delay. The poor sufferer is sinking fast.”

“Go then,” cried Viviana, “and heaven speed your mission! If you could prevail upon Doctor Dee to visit the wounded man in person, I should prefer it. Besides, I have another request to make of him—but that will do hereafter. Lose not a moment now.”

“I will fly on the wings of the wind,” replied Catesby. “Heaven grant that when I return the object of our solicitude may not be past all human aid!”

With this, he hurried to an out-building in which the horses were placed, and choosing the strongest and fleetest from out their number, mounted, and started at full gallop in the direction of Manchester; nor did he relax his speed until he reached the gates of the ancient College. Hanging the bridle of his smoking steed to a hook in the wall, he crossed the large quadrangular court; and finding the principal entrance open, passed the lofty room now used as the refectory, ascended the flight of stone stairs that conducts the modern visitor to the library, and was traversing the long galleries communicating with it, and now crowded with the learning of ages, bequeathed by the benevolence of his rival, Humphrey Chetham, when he encountered a grave but crafty-looking personage, in a loose brown robe and Polish cap, who angrily demanded his business.

Apologizing for the intrusion, Catesby was about to explain, when a small oak door near them was partly opened, and an authoritative voice, from within, exclaimed, “Do not hinder him, Kelley. I know his business, and will see him.”

The seer made no further remark, but pointing to the door, Catesby at once comprehended that it was Dee's voice he had heard; and, though somewhat startled by the intimation that he was expected, entered the room. He found the Doctor surrounded by his magical apparatus, and slowly returning to the chair he had just quitted.

Without looking behind him to see whom he addressed, Dee continued, “I have just consulted my show-stone, and know why you are come hither. You bring a token from Viviana Radcliffe.”

“I do,” replied Catesby, in increased astonishment. “It is here.”

“It is needless to produce it,” replied Dee, still keeping his back towards him. “I have seen it already. Kelley,” he continued, “I am about to set out for Ordsall Hall immediately. You must accompany me.”

“Amazement!” cried Catesby. “Is the purpose of my visit then really known to your reverence?”

“You shall hear,” rejoined Dee, facing him. “You have a friend who is at the point of death, and having heard that I possess an elixir of wonderful efficacy, are come in quest of it.”

“True,” replied Catesby, utterly confounded.

“The name of that friend,” pursued Dee, regarding him fixedly, “is Guy Fawkes,—your own, Robert Catesby.”

“I need no more to convince me, reverend sir,” rejoined Catesby, trembling, in spite of himself, “that all I have heard of your wonderful powers falls far short of the truth.”

“You are but just in time,” replied Dee, bowing gravely, in acknowledgment of the compliment. “Another hour, and it would have been too late.”

“Then you think he will live!” cried Catesby, eagerly.

“I am sure of it,” replied Dee, “provided——”

“Provided what?” interrupted Catesby. “Is there aught I can do to ensure his recovery?”

“No,” replied Dee, sternly. “I am debating within myself whether it is worth while reviving him for a more dreadful fate.”

“What mean you, reverend sir?” asked Catesby, a shade passing over his countenance.

“You understand my meaning, and therefore need no explanation,” replied Dee. “Return to Ordsall Hall, and tell Miss Radcliffe I will be there in an hour. Bid her have no further fear. If the wounded man breathes when I arrive, I will undertake to cure him. Add further, that I know the other request she desires to make of me, and that it is granted before it is asked. Farewell, sir, for a short time.”

On reaching the court, Catesby expanded his chest, shook his limbs, and exclaimed, “At length, I breathe freely. The atmosphere of that infernal chamber smelt so horribly of sulphur that it almost stifled me. Well, if Doctor Dee has not dealings with the devil, man never had! However, if he cures Guy Fawkes, I care not whence the medicine comes from.”

As he descended Smithy Bank, and was about to cross the old bridge over the Irwell, he perceived a man riding before him, who seemed anxious to avoid him. Struck by this person's manner, he urged his horse into a quicker pace, and being better mounted of the two, soon overtook him, when to his surprise he found it was Martin Heydocke.

“What are you doing here, sirrah?” he demanded.

“I have been sent by Mistress Viviana with a message to Mr. Humphrey Chetham,” replied the young man, in great confusion.

“Indeed!” exclaimed Catesby, angrily. “And how dared you convey a message to him, without consulting me on the subject?”

“I was not aware you were my master,” replied Martin, sulkily. “If I owe obedience to any one, it is to Mr. Chetham, whose servant I am. But if Mistress Viviana gives me a message to deliver, I will execute her commands, whoever may be pleased or displeased.”

“I did but jest, thou saucy knave,” returned Catesby, who did not desire to offend him. “Here is a piece of money for thee. Now, if it be no secret, what was Miss Radcliffe's message to thy master?”

“I know not what her letter contained,” replied Martin; “but his answer was, that he would come to the hall at midnight.”

“It is well I ascertained this,” thought Catesby, and he added aloud, “I understood your master had been arrested and imprisoned.”

“So he was,” replied Martin; “but he had interest enough with the Commissioners to procure his liberation.”

“Enough,” replied Catesby; and striking spurs into his charger, he dashed off.

A quarter of an hour's hard riding brought him to the hall, and, on arriving there, he proceeded at once to the wounded man's chamber, where he found Viviana and Garnet.

“Have you succeeded in your errand?” cried the former, eagerly. “Will Doctor Dee come, or has he sent the elixir?”

“He will bring it himself,” replied Catesby.

Viviana uttered an exclamation of joy, and the sound appeared to reach the ears of the sufferer, for he stirred, and groaned faintly.

“Doctor Dee desired me to tell you,” continued Catesby, drawing Viviana aside, and speaking in a low tone, “that your other request was granted.”

Viviana looked surprised, and as if she did not clearly understand him.

“Might he not refer to Humphrey Chetham?” remarked Catesby, somewhat maliciously.

“Ah! you have learnt from Martin Heydocke that I have written to him," returned Viviana, blushing deeply. “What I was about to ask of Doctor Dee had no reference to Humphrey Chetham. It was to request permission to privately inter my father's remains in our family vault in the Collegiate Church. But how did he know I had any request to make?”

“That passes my comprehension,” replied Catesby, “unless he obtained his information from his familiar spirits.”

Shortly after this, Dr. Dee and Kelley arrived at the hall. Catesby met them at the gate, and conducted them to the wounded man's chamber. Coldly saluting Garnet, whom he eyed with suspicion, and bowing respectfully to Viviana, the Doctor slowly advanced to the bedside. He gazed for a short time at the wounded man, and folded his arms thoughtfully upon his breast. The eyes of the sufferer were closed, and his lips slightly apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them. His bronzed complexion had assumed the ghastly hue of death, and his strongly-marked features had become fixed and rigid. His black hair, stiffened and caked with blood, escaped from the bandages around his head, and hung in elf locks on the pillow. It was a piteous spectacle; and Doctor Dee appeared much moved by it.

“The worst is over,” he muttered: “why recall the spirit to its wretched tenement?”

“If you can save him, reverend sir, do not hesitate,” implored Viviana.

“I am come hither for that purpose,” replied Dee; “but I must have no other witness to the experiment except yourself, and my attendant Kelley.”

“I do not desire to be present, reverend sir,” replied Viviana; “but I will retire into that closet, and pray that your remedy may prevail.”

“My prayers for the same end shall be offered in the adjoining room," observed Garnet; and taking Catesby's arm, who seemed spell-bound by curiosity, he dragged him away.

The door closed, and Viviana withdrew into the closet, where she knelt down before the crucifix. Doctor Dee seated himself on the bedside; and taking a gourd-shaped bottle, filled with a clear sparkling liquid, from beneath his robe, he raised it to his eyes with his left hand, while he placed his right on the wrist of the wounded man. In this attitude he continued for a few seconds, while Kelley, with his arms folded, likewise kept his gaze fixed on the phial. At the expiration of that time, Dee, who had apparently counted the pulsations of the sufferer, took out the glass stopper from the bottle, the contents of which diffused a pungent odour around; and wetting a small piece of linen with it, applied it to his temples. He then desired Kelley to raise his head, and poured a few drops down his throat. This done, he waited a few minutes, and repeated the application.

“Look!” he cried to Kelley. “The elixir already begins to operate. His chest heaves. His limbs shiver. That flush upon the cheek, and that dampness upon the brow, denote that the animal heat is restored. A third draught will accomplish the cure.”

“I can already feel his heart palpitate,” observed Kelley, placing his hand on the patient's breast.

“Heaven be praised!” ejaculated Viviana, who had suspended her devotions to listen.

“Hold him tightly,” cried Dee to his assistant, “while I administer the last draught. He may injure himself by his struggles.”

Kelley obeyed, and twined his arms tightly round the wounded man. And fortunate it was that the precaution was taken, for the elixir was no sooner poured down his throat than his chest began to labour violently, his eyes opened, and, raising himself bolt-upright, he struggled violently to break from the hold imposed upon him. This he would have effected, if Dee had not likewise lent his aid to prevent him.

“This is, indeed, a wonderful sight!” cried Viviana, who had quitted the closet, and now gazed on, in awe and astonishment. “I can never be sufficiently thankful to you, reverend sir.”

“Give thanks to Him to whom alone they are due,” replied Dee. “Summon your friends. They may now resume their posts. My task is accomplished.”

Catesby and Garnet being called into the room, could scarcely credit their senses when they beheld Guy Fawkes, who by this time had ceased struggling, reclining on Kelley's shoulder, and, except a certain wildness in the eye and cadaverousness of hue, looking as he was wont to do.