ance."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Solemnly the little company, headed by the priest and Sir Everard,
wended their way toward the chapel. No words were exchanged between
them, for all were deep in thought. As they passed into the chamber
set aside for worship, each reverently knelt and crossed himself, then
took up a position in front of the altar. As it was late and the brief
winter twilight faded from the sky, the chapel lay shrouded in deep
gloom, relieved only by the red light burning in a hanging lamp
suspended before the tabernacle, holding the consecrated elements. To
the men there was something fearfully solemn in their surroundings.
Before them stood that altar for the preservation of which they were
about to pledge their lives.

As their eyes became more accustomed to the subdued light