CHAPTER XI.
THE PILGRIMAGE TO ST. WINIFRED'S WELL.
Early on the following morning, the party, who had ridden hard, and hadpaused only for a short time at Knutsford to rest their steeds,approached the ancient and picturesque city of Chester. Skirting itshigh, and then partly fortified walls, above which appeared the massivetower of the venerable cathedral, they passed through the east-gate, andproceeding along the street deriving its name from that entrance, wereabout to halt before the door of a large hostel, called the SaintWerburgh's Abbey, when, to their great surprise, they perceived Catesbyriding towards them.
"I thought I could not be mistaken," cried the latter, as he drew nearand saluted Viviana. "I was about to set out for Manchester with adespatch to you from your father, Miss Radcliffe, when this mostunexpected and fortunate encounter spares me the journey. But may I askwhy I see you here, and thus attended?" he added, glancing uneasily atHumphrey Chetham.
A few words from Father Oldcorne explained all. Catesby affected to bendhis brow, and appear concerned at the relation. But he could scarcelyrepress his satisfaction.
"Sir William Radcliffe _must_ join us now," he whispered to the priest.
"He must--he _shall_," replied Oldcorne, in the same tone.
"Your father wishes you to join him at Holt, Miss Radcliffe," remarkedCatesby, turning to her, "whence the pilgrimage starts to-morrow forSaint Winifred's Well. There are already nearly thirty devout personsassembled."
"Indeed!" replied Viviana. "May I inquire their names."
"Sir Everard and Lady Digby," replied Catesby; "the Lady Anne Vaux andher sister, Mrs. Brooksby; Mr. Ambrose Rookwood and his wife, the twoWinters, Tresham, Wright, Fathers Garnet and Fisher, and many others, inall probability unknown to you. The procession started ten days ago fromGothurst, in Buckinghamshire, Sir Everard Digby's residence, andproceeded from thence by slow stages to Norbrook and Haddington, at eachof which houses it halted for some days. Yesterday, it reached Holt, andstarts, as I have just told you, to-morrow for Holywell. If you are sodisposed, you will be able to attend it."
"I will gladly do so," replied Viviana. "And since I find it is notnecessary to hurry forward, I will rest myself for a short time here."
So saying, she dismounted, and the whole party entered the hostel.Viviana withdrew to seek a short repose, and glance over her father'sletter, while Catesby, Guy Fawkes, and Oldcorne, were engaged in deepconsultation. Humphrey Chetham, perceiving that his attendance was nofurther required, and that he was an object of suspicion and dislike toCatesby,--for whom he also entertained a similar aversion,--prepared toreturn. And when Viviana made her appearance, he advanced to bid herfarewell.
"I can be of no further service to you, Viviana," he said, in amournful tone; "and as my presence might be as unwelcome to your father,as it seems to be to others of your friends, I will now take my leave."
"Farewell, Mr. Chetham," she replied. "I will not attempt to oppose yourdeparture; for, much as I grieve to lose you--and that I do so thesetears will testify,--I feel that it is for the best. I owe youmuch--more--far more than I can ever repay. It would be unworthy in me,and unfair to you, to say that I do not, and shall not ever feel thedeepest interest in you; that, next to my father, there is no one whom Iregard--nay, whom I love so much."
"Love! Viviana?" echoed the young merchant, trembling.
"Love, Mr. Chetham," she continued, turning very pale; "since you compelme to repeat the word. I avow it boldly, because--" and her voicefaltered,--"I would not have you suppose me ungrateful, and because Inever can be yours."
"I will not attempt to dissuade you from the fatal determination youhave formed of burying your charms in a cloister," rejoined HumphreyChetham. "But, oh! if you _do_ love me, why condemn yourself--whycondemn me to hopeless misery?"
"I will tell you why," replied Viviana. "Because you are not of myfaith; and because I never will wed a heretic."
"I am answered," replied the young merchant, sadly.
"Mr. Chetham," interposed Oldcorne, who had approached them unperceived;"it is in your power to change Viviana's determination."
"How?" asked the young merchant, starting.
"By being reconciled to the Church of Rome."
"Then it will remain unaltered," replied Chetham, firmly.
"And, if Mr. Chetham would consent to this proposal, _I_ would not,"said Viviana. "Farewell," she added, extending her hand to him, which hepressed to his lips. "Do not let us prolong an interview so painful tous both. The best wish I can desire for you is, that we may never meetagain."
Without another word, and without hazarding a look at the object of hisaffections, Chetham rushed out of the room, and mounting his horse, rodeoff in the direction of Manchester.
"Daughter," observed Oldcorne, as soon as he was gone, "I cannot toohighly approve of your conduct, or too warmly applaud the mastery youdisplay over your feelings. But----" and he hesitated.
"But what, father?" cried Viviana, eagerly. "Do you think I have donewrong in dismissing him?"
"By no means, dear daughter," replied the priest. "You have acted mostdiscreetly. But you will forgive me if I urge you--nay, implore you notto take the veil; but rather to bestow your hand upon some Catholicgentleman----"
"Such as Mr. Catesby," interrupted Viviana, glancing in the directionof the individual she mentioned, who was watching them narrowly from thefurther end of the room.
"Ay, Mr. Catesby," repeated Oldcorne, affecting not to notice thescornful emphasis laid on the name. "None more fitting could be found,nor more worthy of you. Our Church has not a more zealous servant andupholder; and he will be at once a father and a husband to you. Such aunion would be highly profitable to our religion. And, though it is wellfor those whose hearts are burthened with affliction, and who are unableto render any active service to their faith, to retire from the world,it behoves every sister of the Romish Church to support it at a juncturelike the present, at any sacrifice of personal feeling."
"Urge me no more, father," replied Viviana, firmly. "I will make everysacrifice for my religion, consistent with principle and feeling. But Iwill not make this; neither am I required to make it. And I beg you willentreat Mr. Catesby to desist from further importunity."
Oldcorne bowed and retired. Nor was another syllable exchanged betweenthem prior to their departure.
Crossing the old bridge over the Dee, then defended at each extremity bya gate and tower, the party took the road to Holt, where they arrived inabout an hour. The recent conversation had thrown a restraint over them,which was not removed during the journey. Habitually taciturn, as hasalready been remarked, Guy Fawkes seemed gloomier and more thoughtfulthan ever; and though he rode by the side of Viviana, he did notvolunteer a remark, and scarcely appeared conscious of her presence.Catesby and Oldcorne kept aloof, and it was not until they came in sightof the little town which formed their destination that the formergalloped forward, and striking into the path on the right, beggedViviana to follow him. A turn in the road shortly afterwards showed thema large mansion screened by a grove of beech-trees.
"That is the house to which we are going," observed Catesby.
And as he spoke, they approached a lodge, the gates of which beingopened by an attendant, admitted them to the avenue.
Viviana's heart throbbed with delight at the anticipated meeting withher father; but she could not repress a feeling of anxiety at thedistressing intelligence she had to impart to him. As she drew near thehouse she perceived him walking beneath the shade of the trees with twoother persons; and quickening her pace, sprang from her steed, andalmost before he was aware of it was in his arms.
"Why do I see you here so unexpectedly, my dear child?" cried SirWilliam Radcliffe, as soon as he had recovered from the surprise whichher sudden appearance occasioned him. "Mr. Catesby only left thismorning, charged with a letter entreating you to set out withoutdelay,--and now I behold you. What has happened?"
Viviana then recounted the occurrences of the la
st few days.
"It is as I feared," replied Sir William, in a desponding tone. "Ouroppressors will never cease till they drive us to desperation!"
"They will not!" rejoined a voice behind him. "Well may we exclaim withthe prophet--'How long, O Lord, shall I cry, and thou wilt not hear?Shall I cry out to thee suffering violence, and thou wilt not save? Whyhast thou showed me iniquity and grievance, to see rapine and injusticebefore me? Why lookest thou upon them that do unjust things, and holdestthy peace when the wicked devoureth the man that is more just thanhimself?'"
Viviana looked in the direction of the speaker and beheld a man in apriestly garb, whose countenance struck her forcibly. He was ratherunder the middle height, of a slight spare figure, and in age might beabout fifty. His features, which in his youth must have been pleasing,if not handsome, and which were still regular, were pale and emaciated;but his eye was dark, and of unusual brilliancy. A single glance at thisperson satisfied her it was Father Garnet, the provincial of the EnglishJesuits; nor was she mistaken in her supposition.
Of this remarkable person, so intimately connected with the main eventsof the history about to be related, it may be proper to offer somepreliminary account. Born at Nottingham in 1554, in the reign of QueenMary, and of obscure parentage, Henry Garnet was originally destined tothe Protestant Church, and educated, with a view to taking orders, atWinchester school, whence it was intended he should be removed in duecourse to Oxford. But this design was never carried into effect.Influenced by motives, into which it is now scarcely worth whileinquiring, and which have been contested by writers on both sides of thequestion, Garnet proceeded from Winchester to London, where he engagedhimself as corrector of the press to a printer of law-books, namedTottel, in which capacity he became acquainted with Sir Edward Coke andChief Justice Popham,--one of whom was afterwards to be the leadingcounsel against him, and the other his judge. After continuing in thisemployment for two years, during which he had meditated a change in hisreligion, he went abroad, and travelling first to Madrid, and then toRome, saw enough of the Catholic priesthood to confirm his resolution,and in 1575 he assumed the habit of a Jesuit. Pursuing his studies withthe utmost zeal and ardour at the Jesuits' College, under the celebratedBellarmine, and the no less celebrated Clavius, he made such progress,that upon the indisposition of the latter, he was able to fill themathematical chair. Nor was he less skilled in philosophy, metaphysics,and divinity; and his knowledge of Hebrew was so profound that he taughtit publicly in the Roman schools.
To an enthusiastic zeal in the cause of the religion he had espoused,Garnet added great powers of persuasion and eloquence,--a combination ofqualities well fitting him for the office of a missionary priest; andundismayed by the dangers he would have to encounter, and eager topropagate his doctrines, he solicited to be sent on this errand to hisown country. At the instance of Father Persons, he received anappointment to the mission in 1586, and he secretly landed in England inthe same year. Braving every danger, and shrinking from no labour, hesought on all hands to make proselytes to the ancient faith, and tosustain the wavering courage of its professors. Two years afterwards, onthe imprisonment of the Superior of the Jesuits, being raised to thatimportant post, he was enabled to extend his sphere of action; andredoubling his exertions in consequence, he so well discharged hisduties, that it was mainly owing to him that the Catholic party was kepttogether during the fierce persecutions of the latter end of Elizabeth'sreign.
Compelled to personate various characters, as he travelled from place toplace, Garnet had acquired a remarkable facility for disguise; and suchwas his address and courage, that he not unfrequently imposed upon thevery officers sent in pursuit of him. Up to the period of Elizabeth'sdemise, he had escaped arrest; and, though involved in the treasonableintrigue with the king of Spain, and other conspiracies, he procured ageneral pardon under the great seal. His office and profession naturallybrought him into contact with the chief Catholic families throughout thekingdom; and he maintained an active correspondence with many of them,by means of his various agents and emissaries. The great object of hislife being the restoration of the fallen religion, to accomplish this,as he conceived, great and desirable end, he was prepared to adopt anymeans, however violent or obnoxious. When, under the seal of confession,Catesby revealed to him his dark designs, so far from discouraging him,all he counselled was caution. Having tested the disposition of thewealthier Romanists to rise against their oppressors, and finding ageneral insurrection, as has before been stated, impracticable, he gaveevery encouragement and assistance to the conspiracy forming among themore desperate and discontented of the party. At his instigation, thepresent pilgrimage to Saint Winifred's Well was undertaken, in the hopethat, when so large a body of the Catholics were collected together,some additional aid to the project might be obtained.
One of the most mysterious and inexplicable portions of Garnet's historyis that relating to Anne Vaux. This lady, the daughter of Lord Vaux ofHarrowden, a rigid Catholic nobleman, and one of Garnet's earliestpatrons and friends, on the death of her father, in 1595, attachedherself to his fortunes,--accompanied him in all his missions,--sharedall his privations and dangers,--and, regardless of calumny or reproach,devoted herself entirely to his service. What is not less singular, hersister, who had married a Catholic gentleman named Brooksby, became hisequally zealous attendant. Their enthusiasm produced a similar effect onMr. Brooksby; and wherever Garnet went, all three accompanied him.
By his side, on the present occasion, stood Sir Everard Digby. Accountedone of the handsomest, most accomplished, and best-informed men of histime, Sir Everard, at the period of this history only twenty-four, hadmarried, when scarcely sixteen, Maria, heiress of the ancient andhonourable family of Mulshoe, with whom he obtained a large fortune, andthe magnificent estate of Gothurst, or Gaythurst, in Buckinghamshire.Knighted by James the First at Belvoir Castle, on his way from Scotlandto London, Digby, who had once formed one of the most brilliantornaments of the court, had of late in a great degree retired from it."Notwithstanding," writes Father Greenway, "that he had dwelt much inthe Queen's court, and was in the way of obtaining honours anddistinction by his graceful manners and rare parts, he chose rather tobear the cross with the persecuted Catholics, _et vivere abjectus indomo Domini_, than to sail through the pleasures of a palace and theprosperities of the world, to the shipwreck of his conscience and thedestruction of his soul." Having only when he completed his minorityprofessed the Catholic religion, he became deeply concerned at itsfallen state, and his whole thoughts were bent upon its restoration.This change in feeling was occasioned chiefly, if not altogether, byGarnet, by whom his conversion had been accomplished.
Sir Everard Digby was richly attired in a black velvet doublet, withsleeves slashed with white satin, and wore a short mantle of the samematerial, similarly lined. He had the enormous trunk hose, heretoforementioned as the distinguishing peculiarity of the costume of theperiod, and wore black velvet shoes, ornamented with white roses. Anample ruff encircled his throat. His hat was steeple-crowned, andsomewhat broader in the leaf than was ordinarily worn, and shaded with aplume of black feathers. His hair was raven black, and he wore a pointedbeard, and moustaches. His figure was tall and stately, and his featuresgrave and finely formed.
By this time the group had been joined by the others, and a friendlygreeting took place. Guy Fawkes was presented by Catesby to Sir WilliamRadcliffe and Sir Everard Digby. To Garnet he required no introduction,and Father Oldcorne was known to all. After a little furtherconversation, the party adjourned to the house, which belonged to aWelsh Catholic gentleman, named Griffiths, who, though absent at thetime, had surrendered it to the use of Sir Everard Digby and hisfriends.
On their entrance, Viviana was introduced by her father to Lady Digby,who presided as hostess, and welcomed her with great cordiality. She wasthen conducted to her own room, where she was speedily joined by SirWilliam; and they remained closeted together till summoned to theprincipal meal of the day. At the tab
le, which was most hospitablyserved, Viviana found, in addition to her former companions, a largeassemblage, to most of whom she was a stranger, consisting of Anne Vaux,Mr. Brooksby and his wife, Ambrose Rookwood, two brothers named Winter,two Wrights, Francis Tresham,--persons of whom it will be necessary tomake particular mention hereafter,--and several others, in all amountingto thirty.
The meal over, the company dispersed, and Viviana and her father,passing through an open window, wandered forth upon a beautiful andspreading lawn, and thence under the shade of the beech-trees. They hadnot been long here, anxiously conferring on recent events, when theyperceived Garnet and Catesby approaching.
"Father, dear father!" cried Viviana, hastily, "I was about to warn you;but I have not time to do so now. Some dark and dangerous plot is inagitation to restore our religion. Mr. Catesby is anxious to league youwith it. Do not--do not yield to his solicitations!"
"Fear nothing on that score, Viviana," replied Sir William, "I havealready perplexities enow, without adding to them."
"I will leave you, then," she replied. And, as soon as the others cameup, she made some excuse for withdrawing, and returned to the house. Thewindow of her chamber commanded the avenue, and from it she watched thegroup. They remained for a long time pacing up and down, in earnestconversation. By and by, they were joined by Oldcorne and Fawkes. Thencame a third party, consisting of the Winters and Wrights; and, lastly,Sir Everard Digby and Tresham swelled the list.
The assemblage was then harangued by Catesby, and the most profoundattention paid to his address. Viviana kept her eye fixed upon herfather's countenance, and from its changing expression inferred whateffect the speech produced upon him. At its conclusion, the assemblageseparated in little groups; and she perceived, with great uneasiness,that Father Garnet passed his arm through that of her father, and ledhim away. Some time elapsed, and neither of them re-appeared.
"My warning was in vain; he _has_ joined them!" she exclaimed.
"No, Viviana!" cried her father's voice behind her. "I have _not_ joinedthem. Nor _shall_ I do so."
"Heaven be praised!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck.
Neither of them were aware that they were overheard by Garnet, who hadnoiselessly followed Sir William into the room, and muttered to himself,"For all this, he _shall_ join the plot, and she _shall_ wed Catesby."
He then coughed slightly, to announce his presence; and, apologizing toViviana for the intrusion, told her he came to confess her previously tothe celebration of mass, which would take place that evening, in a smallchapel in the house. Wholly obedient to the command of her spiritualadvisers, Viviana instantly signified her assent; and, her father havingwithdrawn, she laid open the inmost secrets of her heart to the Jesuit.Severely reprobating her love for a heretic, before he would give herabsolution, Garnet enjoined her, as a penance, to walk barefoot to theholy well on the morrow, and to make a costly offering at the shrine ofthe saint. Compliance being promised to his injunction, he pronouncedthe absolution, and departed.
Soon after this, mass was celebrated by Garnet, and the sacramentadministered to the assemblage.
An hour before daybreak, the party again assembled in the chapel, wherematins were performed; after which, the female devotees, who wereclothed in snow-white woollen robes, with wide sleeves and hoods, andhaving large black crosses woven in front, retired for a short time, andre-appeared, with their feet bared, and hair unbound. Each had a largerosary attached to the cord that bound her waist.
Catesby thought Viviana had never appeared so lovely as in this costume;and as he gazed at her white and delicately formed feet, her smallrounded ankles, her dark and abundant tresses falling in showers almostto the ground, he became more deeply enamoured than before. Hispassionate gaze was, however, unnoticed, as the object of it kept hereyes steadily fixed on the ground. Lady Digby, who was a most beautifulwoman, scarcely appeared to less advantage; and, as she walked side byside with Viviana in the procession, the pair attracted universaladmiration from all who beheld them.
Everything being at last in readiness, and the order of march fullyarranged, two youthful choristers, in surplices, chanting a hymn toSaint Winifred, set forth. They were followed by two men bearing silkenbanners, on one of which was displayed the martyrdom of the saint whoseshrine they were about to visit, and on the other a lamb carrying across; next came Fathers Oldcorne and Fisher, each sustaining a largesilver crucifix; next, Garnet alone, in the full habit of his order;next, the females, in the attire before described, and walking two andtwo; next, Sir Everard Digby and Sir William Radcliffe; and lastly, therest of the pilgrims, to the number of fourteen. These were all on foot.But at the distance of fifty paces behind them rode Guy Fawkes andCatesby, at the head of twenty well-armed and well-mounted attendants,intended to serve as a guard in case of need.
In such order, this singular procession moved forward at a slow pace,taking its course along a secluded road leading to the ridge of hillsextending from the neighbourhood of Wrexham to Mold, and from thence, inan almost unbroken chain, to Holywell.
Along these heights, whence magnificent views were obtained of the broadestuary of the Dee and the more distant ocean, the train proceededwithout interruption; and though the road selected was one seldomtraversed, and through a country thinly peopled, still, the rumour ofthe pilgrimage having gone abroad, hundreds were stationed at differentpoints to behold it. Some expressions of disapprobation wereoccasionally manifested by the spectators; but the presence of the largearmed force effectually prevented any interference.
Whenever such a course could be pursued, the procession took its wayover the sward. Still the sufferings of the females were severe in theextreme; and before Viviana had proceeded a mile, her white, tender feetwere cut and bruised by the sharp flints over which she walked; everystep she took leaving a bloody print behind it. Lady Digby was in littlebetter condition. But such was the zeal by which they, in common withall the other devotees following them, were animated, that not a singlemurmur was uttered.
Proceeding in this way, they reached at mid-day a small stone chapel onthe summit of the hill overlooking Plas-Newydd, where they halted, anddevotions being performed, the females bathed their lacerated limbs in aneighbouring brook, after which they were rubbed with a cooling andodorous ointment. Thus refreshed, they again set forward, and halting asecond time at Plas-Isaf, where similar religious ceremonies wereobserved, they rested for the day at a lodging prepared for theirreception in the vicinity of Mold.
The night being passed in prayer, early in the morning they commencedtheir march in the same order as before. When Viviana first set her feetto the ground, she felt as if she were treading on hot iron, and thepain was so excruciating, that she could not repress a cry.
"Heed not your sufferings, dear daughter," observed Garnet,compassionately; "the waters of the holy fountain will heal the woundsboth of soul and body."
Overcoming her agony by a powerful effort, she contrived to limpforward; and the whole party was soon after in motion. Halting; for twohours at Pentre-Terfyn, and again at Skeviog, the train, towardsevening, reached the summit of the hill overlooking Holywell, at thefoot of which could be seen the ruins of Basingwerk Abbey, and the roofof the ancient chapel erected over the sacred spring. At this sight,those who were foremost in the procession fell on their knees; and thehorsemen dismounting, imitated their example. An earnest supplication toSaint Winifred was then poured forth by Father Garnet, in which all theothers joined, and a hymn in her honour chanted by the choristers.
Their devotions ended, the whole train arose, and walked slowly down thesteep descent. As they entered the little town, which owes its name andcelebrity to the miraculous spring rising within it, they were met by alarge concourse of people, who had flocked from Flint, and the otherneighbouring places to witness the ceremonial. Most of the inhabitantsof Holywell, holding their saintly patroness in the deepest veneration,viewed this pilgrimage to her shrine as a proper tribute of respect,while those of t
he opposite faith were greatly impressed by it. As theprocession advanced, the crowd divided into two lines to allow itpassage, and many fell on their knees imploring a blessing from Garnet,which he in no instance refused. When within a hundred yards of thesacred well, they were met by a priest, followed by another small trainof pilgrims. A Latin oration having been pronounced by this priest, andreplied to in the same language by Garnet, the train was once more putin motion, and presently reached the ancient fabric built over thesacred fountain.
The legend of Saint Winifred is so well known, that it is scarcelynecessary to repeat it. For the benefit of the uninformed, however, itmay be stated that she flourished about the middle of the seventhcentury, and was the daughter of Thewith, one of the chief lords ofWales. Devoutly educated by a monk named Beuno, who afterwards receivedcanonization, she took the veil, and retired to a small monastery (theruins of which still exist), built by her father near the scene of hersubsequent martyrdom. Persecuted by the addresses of Caradoc, son ofAlan, Prince of Wales, she fled from him to avoid his violence. Hefollowed, and inflamed by fury at her resistance, struck off her head.For this atrocity, the earth instantly opened and swallowed him alive,while from the spot where the head had fallen gushed forth a fountain ofunequalled force and purity, producing more than a hundred tons aminute. The bottom of this miraculous well is strewn with pebblesstreaked with red veins, in memory of the virgin saint from whose bloodit sprung. On its margin grows an odorous moss, while its gelid andtranslucent waters are esteemed a remedy for many disorders.Winifred's career did not terminate with her decapitation.Resuscitated by the prayers of Saint Beuno, she lived many years a lifeof the utmost sanctity, bearing, as a mark of the miracle performed inher behalf, a narrow crimson circle round her throat.
Passing the chapel adjoining the well, built in the reign of Henry theSeventh by his mother, the pious Countess of Richmond, the pilgrims cameto the swift clear stream rushing from the well. Instead of ascendingthe steps leading to the edifice built over the spring, they plungedinto the stream, and crossing it entered the structure by a doorway onthe further side. Erected by the Countess of Richmond at the same periodas the chapel, this structure, quadrangular in form, and of greatbeauty, consists of light clustered pillars and mouldings, supportingthe most gorgeous tracery and groining, the whole being ornamented withsculptured bosses, pendent capitals, fretwork, niches, and tabernacles.In the midst is a large stone basin, to receive the water of thefountain, around which the procession now grouped, and as soon as allwere assembled, at the command of Father Garnet they fell on theirknees.
It was a solemn and striking sight to see this large group prostratedaround that beautiful fountain, and covered by that ancientstructure,--a touching thing to hear the voice of prayer mingling withthe sound of the rushing water. After this, they all arose. A hymn wasthen chanted, and votive offerings made at the shrine of the saint. Themale portion of the assemblage then followed Garnet to the chapel, wherefurther religious rites were performed, while the female devotees,remaining near the fountain, resigned themselves to the care of severalattendants of their own sex, who, having bathed their feet in the water,applied some of the fragrant moss above described to the wounds; and,such was the faith of the patients, or the virtue of the application,that in a short time they all felt perfectly restored, and able to jointheir companions in the chapel. In this way the evening was spent, andit was not until late that they finished their devotions, and departedto the lodgings provided for them in the town.
Impressed with a strange superstitious feeling, which he could scarcelyacknowledge to himself, Guy Fawkes determined to pass the night near thewell. Accordingly, without communicating his intention to hiscompanions, he threw a small knapsack over his shoulder, containing achange of linen, and a few articles of attire, and proceeded thither.
It was a brilliant moonlight night, and, as the radiance, streamingthrough the thin clustered columns of the structure, lighted up itsfairy architecture, and fell upon the clear cold waves of the fountain,revealing the blood-streaked pebbles beneath, the effect wasinexpressibly beautiful. So charmed was Guy Fawkes by the sight, that heremained for some time standing near the edge of the basin, as iffascinated by the marvellous spring that boiled up and sparkled at hisfeet. Resolved to try the efficacy of the bath, he threw off his clothesand plunged into it. The water was cold as ice; but on emerging from ithe felt wonderfully refreshed. Having dressed himself, he wrapped hiscloak around him, and, throwing himself on the stone floor, placed theknapsack under his head, and grasping a petronel in his right hand, tobe ready in case of a surprise, disposed himself to slumber.
_Vision of Guy Fawkes at Saint Winifred's Well_]
Accustomed to a soldier's couch, he soon fell asleep. He had not longclosed his eyes when he dreamed that from out of the well a femalefigure, slight and unsubstantial as the element from which it sprang,arose. It was robed in what resembled a nun's garb; but so thin andvapoury, that the very moonlight shone through it. From the garments ofthe figure, as well as from the crimson circle round its throat, he knewthat it must be the patroness of the place, the sainted Winifred, thathe beheld. He felt no horror, but the deepest awe. The arm of the figurewas raised,--its benignant regards fixed upon him,--and, as soon as itgained the level of the basin, it glided towards him.
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