Part 3 (2/2)

And a wise precaution it was that the name of Henry Garnet should not be brought to the King's notice. Balancing the advantage of being neither Catholic nor Protestant, the accusation that he was about to favor the Papists, had so angered James, that he cast aside all pretentions of toleration to the adherents of Rome. Coming to the throne with promises of favor to the Catholic n.o.bility, he had renewed with great severity the laws of repression, and the banishment of the Jesuits. Many of the latter had sought refuge in the houses of the more zealous Papists, and among them Henry Garnet, Superior of the Order of Jesus in England, an accomplished scholar, and a man of mild demeanor, though an uncompromising adherent to his faith. 'Twas to Garnet, that Catesby, troubled in spirit and, perhaps, uncertain of the undertaking which lay before him, had resolved to turn, that the advice of the wily Jesuit might strengthen his purpose, or check for a time, his zeal in the desperate venture which at present filled his mind.

Some two hours after leaving his companions, Catesby, mounted upon a powerful chestnut mare and wrapped closely about with a fur lined cloak, cantered slowly through the streets of London which led to the outskirts of the city facing the northwest. The storm of the previous night had ceased, and the country side lay wrapped in a mantle of white, broken here and there by the gray wall of some silent habitation from whose chimneys the first blue smoke was rising in circling clouds through the crisp morning air.

Having reached the open country, the rider set his horse into a gallop, for his destination lay many leagues away, and it was his purpose to reach it ere nightfall. Hendlip House stood near the middle of a s.p.a.cious park thickly studded with trees; the structure itself was surrounded by shrubbery, and contained within its walls many secret hiding places, trap doors and double wainscotings. It had been constructed by one Thomas Abington, a devoted recusant of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and the dwelling was a famous resort for those whose desire it was to conceal themselves from the authorities. 'Twas there, the Superior of the Jesuits, together with a clerk of that Order, Oldcorne by name, and Owen, a servant, had been taken by certain of the Catholic gentry, among whom were Lord Rookwood and Sir Everard Digsby.

That precaution had been observed to guard against surprise was shown by the presence of a watchman, who, on the arrival of Catesby outside the manor grounds, stepped from his lodge that he might hold converse with the new comer, and if an officer, or one attached to the Parliament, might give warning to those within the house.

Upon perceiving, however, that it was Sir Robert Catesby who came thus unexpectedly to Hendlip, the man doffed his cap, returning a civil greeting to the rider's remark upon the coldness of the weather.

”Has my Lord Rookwood pa.s.sed this way?” inquired he, reining in his horse.

”He has, in truth,” replied the servant, catching dexterously the silver piece tossed him. ”Even now, together with Mistress Vaux, he is within the house.”

”Vaux! Anne Vaux!” muttered Catesby, ”there must be then some weighty matter afoot that she comes to Hendlip.” And touching his horse with the spur, he galloped up the avenue which led to the main entrance of the mansion. Being well known by its inmates he was at once conducted to an upper chamber, the door of which was unbarred by Owen, who motioned him to enter.

There were three occupants of the room. Before the great fireplace, ablaze with logs, sat Henry Garnet. Scarce past middle age, the learned prelate was a striking figure, clad though he was in the simple, dark-hued garb of his Order. Beneath a brow white and smooth as a child's, shone a n.o.ble countenance, gentle almost to effeminacy, but redeemed by firm lines about the mouth, and the intensity of the steel-gray eyes. As Catesby entered, these eyes, which had been gazing abstractedly into the fire, lighted with a smile of welcome.

One of the Jesuit's companions was a personage whose dress and manner proclaimed him a n.o.ble of the period. He leaned indolently against the frame of the wide window facing the avenue, through which the horseman had come, and he it was, Lord Rookwood, who first announced to the Prelate that a visitor approached.

The third occupant of the apartment was a woman. Born and bred in luxury, the daughter of a peer of England, Anne Vaux was numbered among the most devoted followers of the Superior. Scarce six and twenty, she had pa.s.sed her minority at the court of Elizabeth, and the accession of James the First had marked no change in the life of the lady-in-waiting. Anne of Denmark, pleased with the loveliness of the daughter of Lord Vaux, had retained her near her person.

Pausing on the threshold, Catesby took in the three personages at a glance, but it was to the Jesuit that he offered his first salutation, dropping on one knee as Garnet extended his hand, upon a finger of which glistened the signet ring denoting his holy office.

”Welcome, Sir Robert Catesby!” murmured the Prelate, motioning the cavalier to draw near the fire. ”'Tis, indeed, a most happy circ.u.mstance which brings to Hendlip so devoted a servant to the cause of G.o.d.”

”The more happy,” replied Catesby, ”that I find your Reverence of good cheer, and in converse with my Lord of Rookwood and Mistress Vaux.”

”They are truly of much comfort to me in my solitude,” said the Superior, ”and with the help of G.o.d I have patience to remain in idleness, that at the time of harvest I may be ready.”

Catesby cast a quick glance at Rookwood, but the imperturbable face of the latter told him nothing. It was Anne Vaux who spoke.

”'Tis but little, indeed, the followers of this most holy man can do to comfort him,” she said softly, ”yet it seemeth fit that such of us as may, shall make known to him that even the court of James----”

Garnet smiled. ”Anne!” said he, turning his gray eyes affectionately upon her, ”'tis a comfort beyond human utterance.” Then to Catesby: ”But thou hast ridden hard, good son?”

”That I may benefit by thy wisdom,” replied Sir Robert, ”for my soul is troubled.”

”A confession!” cried Anne, rising quickly. ”Therefore I will retire with my Lord of Rookwood.”

The latter shrugged his shoulders; evidently it but poorly fitted his desire that the conversation with the Superior should be unheard by him. Catesby noted his displeasure, and signaled him to remain. Garnet comprehended the matter.

”Not so!” said he, ”I warrant me, good Catesby seeketh not the confessional, but to render certain reports concerning that which hath transpired in London, and of which Lord Rookwood hath some understanding. Yet, lest our discourse weary thee, good Anne, thou mayst retire, and if it please thee, return when our conference is ended.” So saying, he arose and conducted her to the door.

When alone with the two gentlemen, the Prelate looked fixedly at Catesby.

”It were fitting,” said he ”that Mistress Vaux, zealous though she be, know not too much concerning the temper of our following. Now tell me quickly what hath arisen to disturb thee.”

Catesby walked thrice about the room, then stopped before the Jesuit and said soberly:

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