"Knowest thou," inquired Fawkes, when Winter had ceased, "what may be the first measure before the House?"
"Methinks," replied the man, "one Lord Effingston will speak upon a bill relating to the duty upon wool." And he added, with a laugh which the girl could distinctly hear, "perchance his fine words will be interrupted, if thy tinder be not damp."
"Thou needst have no fear of that," answered Fawkes, gruffly. "But let us hence, for 'tis even now past the stroke of ten."
She heard them pass quickly out, and soon their footsteps died away in the distance. Elinor lay for a moment dazed,—the blow had fallen! The words he had uttered but a few short hours ago were a lie, uttered to blind her. She recoiled in horror from even the thoughts of that man with the black and treacherous heart. He was now a father but in name; all her love turned to that other man, who, in that very moment, was standing over a hell which awaited but the hand of Fawkes to send it belching forth. Was there yet time to save him? All her energies bent themselves to this one purpose. She arose and dressed hurriedly, forming her plan of action the meanwhile. A sudden terror came upon her. If by some accident the mine should be prematurely exploded, what then? But she recollected the cautious man who was to fire it, and the thought quieted her. The bell in a neighboring steeple chimed the quarter after ten. Forty-five minutes only remained,—barely time, if she hastened her utmost, to reach the Parliament buildings before eleven would ring out upon the air. She was soon ready and hastened toward the door, her trembling fingers scarce able, in their eagerness, to lift the latch. At last they found the cord, but the portal held firmly to its place. Again she tried, putting forth all her strength. Still it did not yield. The horrible truth flashed upon the girl; the heavy door was securely fastened from the outside!
CHAPTER XXI.
THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.
As Elinor stood confronted by the barred door, a madness born of terror seized her. Frantically she beat upon the panel until in places the wood was stained with her blood. Again and again she threw herself against the heavy oak, but with no result. After many vain attempts she sank, almost fainting, to the floor.
As she lay breathless, her tender hands bruised and bleeding, there fell upon her ear the echo of the chime once more;—ten thirty! The sound infused new life into her slight form. Springing to her feet she seized a bench near by, and with a power almost superhuman, raised the heavy piece and struck the portal with all her might. A shower of dust rewarded her. Another blow and a wide fissure appeared across the panel. Once more the bench crashed against the door, and it gave way, a shower of splinters flying into the hall below. Quickly she hastened down the stairs and gained the street. People turned wondering looks upon the flying girl as with strength born of desperation she sped toward Parliament House. As she reached the neighborhood a group of men who stood engaged in conversation, noted her, and one drew forth his watch:—"There is one carrying a petition," said he; "but fifteen minutes yet remain before the opening of the House."