to Viviana.
“Has Catesby been here?” inquired Guy Fawkes, with a look of astonishment.
“He has,” replied Oldcorne. “He came to warn us that the hall would be this night searched by the officers of state; and he also brought word that a warrant had been issued by the Privy Council for the arrest of Sir William Radcliffe.”
“Where is he now?” demanded Fawkes, hastily.
“On the way to Chester, whither he departed in all haste, at Viviana’s urgent request, to apprise her father of his danger,” rejoined the priest.
“This is strange!” muttered Guy Fawkes. “Catesby here, and I not know it!”
“He had a secret motive for his visit, my son,” whispered Oldcorne, significantly.
“So I conclude, father,” replied Fawkes, in the same tone.
“Viviana Radcliffe,” murmured Humphrey Chetham, in low and tender accents, “something tells me that this moment will decide my future fate. Emboldened by the mysterious manner in which we have been brought together, and you, as it were, have been thrown upon my protection, I venture to declare the passion I have long indulged for you;—a passion which, though deep and fervent as ever agitated human bosom, has hitherto, from the difference of our rank, and yet more from the difference of our religious opinions, been without hope. What has just occurred,—added to the peril in which your worthy father stands, and the difficulties in which you yourself will necessarily be involved,—makes me cast aside all misgiving, and perhaps with too much presumption, but with a confident belief that the sincerity of my love renders me not wholly undeserving of your regard, earnestly solicit you to give me a husband’s right to watch over and defend you.”
Viviana was silent. But even by the imperfect light the young merchant could discern that her cheek was covered with blushes.
“Your answer?” he cried, taking her hand.
“You must take it from my lips, Master Chetham,” interposed the priest; “Viviana Radcliffe never can be yours.”
“Be pleased to let her speak for herself, reverend sir,” rejoined the young merchant, angrily.
“I represent her father, and have acquainted you with his determination,” rejoined the priest. “Appeal to her, and she will confirm my words.”
“Viviana, is this true?” asked Chetham. “Does your father object to your union with me?”
Viviana answered by a deep sigh, and gently withdrew her hand from the young merchant’s grasp.
“Then there is no hope for me?” cried Chetham.
“Alas! no,” replied Viviana; “nor for me—of earthly affection. I am already dead to the world.”
“How so?” he asked.
“I am about to vow myself to Heaven,” she answered.
“Viviana!” exclaimed the young man, throwing himself at her feet, “reflect!—oh! reflect, before you take this fatal—this irrevocable step.”
“Rise, sir,” interposed the priest, sternly; “you plead in vain. Sir William Radcliffe will never wed his daughter to a heretic. In his name I command you to desist from further solicitation.”
“I obey,” replied Chetham, rising.
“We lose time here,” observed Guy Fawkes, who had been lost for a moment in reflection. “I will undertake to provide for your safety, father. But, what must be done with Viviana? She cannot be left here. And her return to the hall would be attended with danger.”
“I will not return till the miscreants have quitted it,” said Viviana.
“Their departure is uncertain,” replied Fawkes. “When they are baulked of their prey they sometimes haunt a dwelling for weeks.”
“What will become of me?” cried Viviana, distractedly.
“It were vain, I fear, to entreat you to accept an asylum with my father at Clayton Hall, or at my own residence at Crumpsall,” said Humphrey Chetham.
“Your offer is most kind, sir,” replied Oldcorne, “and is duly appreciated. But Viviana will see the propriety—on every account—of declining it.”
“I do; I do,” she acquiesced.
“Will you entrust yourself to my protection?” observed Fawkes.
“Willingly,” replied the priest, answering for her. “We shall find some place of refuge,” he added, turning to Viviana, “where your father can join us, and where we can remain concealed till this storm has blown over.”
“I know many such,” rejoined Fawkes, “both in this county and in Yorkshire, and will guide you to one.”
“My horses are at your service,” said Humphrey Chetham. “They are tied beneath the trees in the avenue. My servant shall bring them to the door,” and, turning to his attendant, he gave him directions to that effect. “I was riding hither an hour before midnight,” he continued, addressing Viviana, “to offer you assistance, having accidentally heard the pursuivant mention his meditated visit to Ordsall Hall, to one of his followers, when, as I approached the gates, this person,” pointing to Guy Fawkes, “crossed my path, and, seizing the bridle of my steed, demanded whether I was a friend to Sir William Radcliffe. I answered in the affirmative, and desired to know the motive of his inquiry. He then told me that the house was invested by a numerous band of armed men, who had crossed the moat by means of a plank, and were at that moment concealed within the garden. This intelligence, besides filling me with alarm, disconcerted all my plans, as I hoped to have been beforehand with them—their inquisitorial searches being generally made at a late hour, when all the inmates of a house intended to be surprised are certain to have retired to rest. While I was bitterly reproaching myself for my dilatoriness, and considering what course it would be best to pursue, my servant, Martin Heydocke, son to your father’s old steward, who had ridden up at the stranger’s approach, informed me that he was acquainted with a secret passage communicating beneath the moat with the hall. Upon this, I dismounted; and fastening my horse to a tree, ordered him to lead me to it without an instant’s delay. The stranger, who gave his name as Guy Fawkes, and professed himself a stanch Catholic, and a friend of Father Oldcorne, begged permission to join us, in a tone so earnest, that I at once acceded to his request. We then proceeded to this building, and after some search discovered the trap-door. Much time was lost, owing to our being unprovided with lights, in the subterranean passage; and it was more than two hours before we could find the ring connected with the stone door, the mystery of which Martin explained to us. This delay we feared would render our scheme abortive, when, just as we reached the panel, we heard your shrieks. The spring was touched, and—you know the rest.”
“And shall never forget it,” replied Viviana, in a tone of the deepest gratitude.
At this juncture, the tramp of horses was heard at the door; and the next moment it was thrown open by the younger Heydocke, who, with a look, and in a voice of the utmost terror, exclaimed, “They are coming!—they are coming!”
“The pursuivant?” cried Guy Fawkes.
“Not him alone, but the whole gang,”
