At her first words Winter started as if a pike had been thrust into his side. On his face was written blank astonishment, which expression, as she proceeded, gave way to one of abject fear. It would have been difficult to say which of the two was the more agitated. He dashed a hand to his brow as if to drive away the fumes of liquor which had mounted to his brain; looked at the kneeling figure; gazed on the tapers burning upon the table; and tried to form some words of reply. At last, with an effort at composure, and endeavoring to force a laugh past his dry lips, he said: "What silly tale is this thou utterest. I have not been----" "Nay," the girl broke in wildly, "'tis useless for thee to say so. My eyes and ears did not deceive me. Would to heaven they had and it were only some mad dream which fills my brain." "Then--then--thou hast played the spy," hissed Winter, in sudden anger born of drink and fear. "Dost know to what thou hast listened? Has aught of it passed thy lips? Speak!" he cried furiously, seizing the girl's arm and glaring at her in drunken rage. "Nay; then thou didst not, and 'tis well; for if thy lips had breathed one word these hands of mine would choke from out thy body its sweet breath." He relinquished his hold, and turning toward the table hurriedly drained a cup of wine. Elinor, spellbound with terror at his outburst of fury, stood rooted to the spot. She realized the madness of her words, seeing plainly that the man's condition was one which made both prayers and entreaties useless. Again he filled a cup and dashed it off. What his state would be in a few moments she dared not think. His back was toward her; now was her chance to escape! Slowly the girl edged her way toward the entrance. At last she reached it; her hand groped behind the curtain for the knob; it turned, but to her horror, she discovered the door was securely fastened. A laugh greeted her from the table. "What, surely, Mistress Fawkes--nay, by my troth, Mistress Fawkes it shall be no more, for 'tis too cold a title; therefore, Pretty Elinor--wouldst leave me, and thy errand but half done? I swear thy words did at first affright; but see, this good wine," he continued, advancing toward her unsteadily, "hath taught me wisdom, and this I know, our secret once hid in thy fair breast, could ne'er be driven forth, even if thou wished, as 'tis too warm a resting place for it to relinquish. Why dost thou shrink from me? Dost know," he added, a fierce gleam coming into his eyes, "I would try to pluck great Saturn from the heavens if thou wished to gird about thy waist his rings? Aye, and would give my soul for a kiss from thy warm lips, thinking my soul well sold. Elinor!" he exclaimed, in a husky voice, "hast thou never read my passion for thee? 'Tis written----" "Then!" cried the girl, "think upon that love and for God's sake let me hence."