The fifth of November : $b a romance of the StuartsBentley, Charles S. (Charles Sylvester)
General
The fifth of November : $b a romance of the Stuarts
Bentley, Charles S. (Charles Sylvester)
Gunpowder Plot, 1605 -- Fiction
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."
The words quickened her energies; a quarter of an hour yet!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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