ilent prayer, then arose, and taking a crucifix
from his doublet, knelt by the figure on the floor and pressed the
symbol to the dead lips.

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

CHAPTER XVI.

MONTEAGLE AND SALISBURY.

Four months passed; months of impatience to the conspirators who
awaited with eagerness the hour to strike against the government.
Winter and Fawkes had returned from France, their mission in part
accomplished, as they had obtained from certain of the Catholic
nobility promises of assistance in the way of men and money, did the
doors of England open to receive them. The plot to strike at the heart
of the ruling powers was slowly maturing; Fawkes, now the leading
spirit, worked diligently both with brain and hands to perfect the
plan decided upon by Winter, Catesby and the others. Secure in a
feeling of strength, the King had little thought that Fate was slowly
winding about him and his ministers a shroud which prompt action alone
could cast off.

Toward the close of a sultry midsummer day, Lord Cecil, Earl of
Salisbury and Prime Minister of England, after holding audience with
the King, returned to his dwelling, glad to cast aside his decorations
and forget during a few hours the weighty affairs of State. He was
scarcely seated, with a glass of wine in hand, when my Lord of
Monteagle was announced as waiting in the ante-chamber. 'Twas no
strange thing for this nobleman to seek the Minister at his home, for
between them there was a warm friendship, and it pleased Cecil to
receive the other at any time he chose to visit him. He therefore
ordered that Monteagle should be at once conducted to his apartment,
and a second glass of wine prepared.

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

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

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

"Then sit thee down," cried Cecil cheerily, "and unburden thyself to
me of all save affairs of State; of them am I exceeding weary