Catesby ran his eyes over the group about him, checking each off on his fingers. "Winter, my Lord of Rookwood, good Percy, Wright, Francis Tresham and Master Guido," said he, "these with Your Reverence, Sir Everard and myself, make up the number--nine." "'Tis well," exclaimed Garnet, fixing his eyes for an instant on the face of each. "Certain things have arisen which render it most expedient that we make common cause with each other--what think ye?" "That the time is ripe for the maturing of such plans as best are suited to our purpose," replied Rookwood; "James hath again declared against us." "'Tis even so," broke in Percy, "and at the house of Master Fawkes when thou wert absent, there arose some discussion as to certain ways and methods best fitted to----" "Ah!" cried Winter, looking toward the corner where was seated the soldier of fortune, with his chin upon his hand; "the opportunity has not served since our last meeting to inquire concerning thy good mother and thy daughter, friend Guido. Tell me, I pray, did the gathering of so many armed men in thy chamber disturb their slumbers?" "Nay," replied Fawkes, gruffly; "the dame knew nothing of it; neither my daughter, of that----" "And the lass," continued Winter, eyeing the man closely, "is she well and cheerful as becomes her youth and loveliness?" "As to cheerfulness," answered the other, a shade of sadness coming into his face, "methinks the merry smile hath forever forsaken her lips, for now she looketh so pale and wan it doth seem but the shadow of her former self wandering about the house; but thank God, the worst is over, and she is on the road to recovery." "And hath Mistress Elinor been ill?" inquired Winter, turning a surprised look toward the speaker. "I had deemed," answered Fawkes, "that my absence from thy house for nigh on to a week would indicate to thee that something was amiss. I every day expected to----" "For truth," broke in the other in a relieved tone, "had I known that thy daughter lay ill I would for a surety have called. But, pray, tell me; is she better now?" "As I have said, she is better; but not herself as yet. In fact, it was on the night of the meeting at my dwelling, after ye had all departed, that I went for a breath of air upon the street and--and--well, it was when I returned that I found the girl in a high fever, and looking much as though she had beheld a foe. The fever spent itself in three days; now, 'tis but the after weakness which afflicts her." "Thank God for her recovery!" exclaimed Winter, as he eyed Fawkes narrowly; but finding nothing in his countenance to arouse alarm, sank back in his chair with a sigh of relief. "And now," said Garnet, who had listened with attention to the dialogue, "since thy last words have banished from my mind the anxiety called forth by the recital of thy fair daughter's illness, we may again turn our thoughts toward other matters, and listen to good Catesby here."