The favorite of the rabble had again acquitted himself well. The head of the victim fell on one side of the block, the quivering trunk sinking to the floor upon the other. A cheer greeted the deed, then silence once more fell upon the multitude. Some soldiers now appeared carrying a box of sand. They quickly ascended the steps and scattered its contents upon the wet boards. Having finished, one of the men seized the head which still lay where it had fallen, fixed it upon the point of his pike and stuck the weapon with its gruesome burden upon the railing. The headless trunk was flung without ceremony into a cart which was in waiting. Again the procession formed; once more a victim knelt; the axe fell, and another head stared down upon the throng below. A ripple of expectancy again broke forth. Two had died; the next must be the one for whom they waited. All strained their necks in eagerness to catch the first glimpse as he should be led forth, and this was the sight for which they had longed:-- A man unable to stand alone; his form, weakened by torture and sickness, was dragged up the steps and stood confronting them. His arms were not bound, for they hung lifeless. Those who stood near could understand the absence of fetters; there was nothing upon which to clasp them, save a mass of crushed bones, in many places stripped of flesh by the cruel cords of the rack. He seemed quite oblivious of his surroundings, turned his head neither to the right nor to the left, but gazed past the headsman--past his captors--and far beyond the sea of upturned faces. His lips were seen to move, but only those who supported him could catch the words:--"In a moment, my little one!" he whispered; "thy father will soon kiss thy sweet lips--and then--we will love each other, and in that love forget all----" They hurried him toward the block and were obliged to place his head upon it; his weakness was so great that he would have fallen had they not supported him. His guards drew back, the axe, already lifted, was about to descend, when, the poor limp figure slipped and fell with a thud to the floor, unable to save itself by reason of the uselessness of the arms. Again he was lifted; once more the axe was raised, and even in that moment they heard him whisper the name ever upon his lips: "Elinor!"--Crash!--and he was away to clasp her to his breast. CONCLUSION. Of Henry Garnet something remains to be said. The alarm which was felt at the revelation of the treason which might, but for the arrest of Fawkes in the cellar under Parliament House, have resulted in the disruption of the government, was widespread, and it became necessary for the Jesuits remaining in the kingdom to hide most secretly.