entrance facing a table upon which stood a flagon of wine. As the door
closed he turned, and to her horror Elinor saw that he was flushed
with strong drink.

"What? Elinor?" exclaimed Winter, in astonishment, rising from the
chair with such haste that it was overturned and fell with a clatter
to the floor. "I crave thy pardon, Mistress Fawkes," he continued with
a bow, mastering his surprise. "Thy sudden entrance caused my tongue
to utter the name that ever dwells within my heart. Pray tell me to
what happy circumstance am I indebted for the honor of this visit? I
would know the same that I may render homage to it."

Elinor stood speechless, filled with abhorrence and dread. All her
bravery could scarce keep her from flying out of the room. She
endeavored to fix her mind on the purpose which had brought her here,
and so find courage. At last desperation gave her voice and she began
hurriedly:

"I know that thou and others were at my father's house this night. I
was not asleep as ye all supposed, and have come to beg, to beseech,
pray, that my father be released from this terrible treason which hath
been talked of. Thou wert the only one to whom I could turn for aid--I
trust to thy goodness, to thy noble nature;--for the love of God tell
me not that I come in vain. See--see," she cried hysterically, her
self control gone and falling upon her knees. "I kneel before thee to
crave this boon."

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