As he uttered these words unconsciously aloud, he became aware of the presence of Robert Winter, who stood at the end of the passage, watching him.
“Your prayer will not be granted, Catesby,” said the latter. “Some dreadful doom, I fear, is reserved for you and all of us.”
“What mean you?” demanded the other, uneasily.
“Listen to me,” replied Robert Winter. “I told you I had a strange and appalling dream to-night, and I will now relate it. I thought I was in a boat upon the river Thames, when all at once the day, which had been bright and smiling, became dark and overcast,—not dark like the shades of night, but gloomy and ominous, as when the sun is shrouded by an eclipse. I looked around, and every object was altered. The tower of Saint Paul's stood awry, and seemed ready to topple down,—so did the spires and towers of all the surrounding fanes. The houses on London Bridge leaned frightfully over the river, and the habitations lining its banks on either side, seemed shaken to their foundations. I fancied some terrible earthquake must have occurred, or that the end of the world was at hand.”
“Go on,” said Catesby, who had listened with profound attention to the relation.
“The stream, too, changed its colour,” continued Robert Winter, “and became red as blood, and the man who rowed my boat was gone, and his place occupied by a figure masked and habited like an executioner. I commanded him to row me ashore, and in an instant the bark shot to land, and I sprang out, glad to be liberated from my mysterious conductor. My steps involuntarily led me toward the cathedral, and on entering it, I found its pillars, shrines, monuments, and roof hung with black. The throng that ever haunt Paul's Walk had disappeared, and a few dismal figures alone traversed the aisles. On approaching them, I recognised in their swollen, death-like, and blackened lineaments, some resemblance to you and our friends. I was about to interrogate them, when I was awakened by yourself.”
“A strange dream, truly,” observed Catesby, musingly, “and coupled with what I myself have seen to-night, would seem to bode evil.”
And he then proceeded to describe the supernatural appearance he had beheld to his companion.
“All is over with us,” rejoined Robert Winter. “We must prepare to meet our fate.”
“We must meet it like men,—like brave men, Robert,” replied Catesby. “We must not disgrace ourselves and our cause.”