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the ground: but he kept his gaze steadily fixed on the body, which, to his infinite astonishment, slowly arose, until it stood erect upon the frame. There it remained perfectly motionless, with the arms close to the sides, and the habiliments torn and dishevelled. The blue light still retained its position upon the brow, and communicated a horrible glimmer to the features. The spectacle was so dreadful that Guy Fawkes would fain have averted his eyes, but he was unable to do so. Doctor Dee and his companion, meanwhile, continued their invocations, until, as it seemed to Fawkes, the lips of the corpse moved, and an awful voice exclaimed, “Why have you called me?”

      “Daughter!” replied Doctor Dee, rising, “in life thou wert endowed with the gift of prophecy. In the grave, that which is to come must be revealed to thee. We would question thee.”

      “Speak, and I will answer,” replied the corpse.

      “Interrogate her, my son,” said Dee, addressing Fawkes, “and be brief, for the time is short. So long only as that flame burns have I power over her.”

      “Spirit of Elizabeth Orton,” cried Guy Fawkes, “if indeed thou standest before me, and some demon hath not entered thy frame to delude me,—by all that is holy, and by every blessed saint, I adjure thee to tell me whether the scheme on which I am now engaged for the advantage of the Catholic Church will prosper?”

      “Thou art mistaken, Guy Fawkes,” returned the corpse. “Thy scheme is not for the advantage of the Catholic Church.”

      “I will not pause to inquire wherefore,” continued Fawkes. “But, grant that the means are violent and wrongful, will the end be successful?”

      “The end will be death,” replied the corpse.

      “To the tyrant—to the oppressors?” demanded Fawkes.

      “To the conspirators,” was the answer.

      “Ha!” ejaculated Fawkes.

      “Proceed, if you have aught more to ask,” cried Dr. Dee. “The flame is expiring.”

      “Shall we restore the fallen religion?” demanded Fawkes.

      But before the words could be pronounced the light vanished, and a heavy sound was heard, as of the body falling on the frame.

      “It is over,” said Doctor Dee.

      “Can you not summon her again?” asked Fawkes, in a tone of deep disappointment. “I had other questions to ask.”

      “Impossible,” replied the Doctor. “The spirit is fled, and will not be recalled. We must now commit the body to the earth. And this time it shall be more decently interred.”

      “My curiosity is excited,—not satisfied,” said Guy Fawkes. “Would it were to occur again!”

      “It is ever thus,” replied Doctor Dee. “We seek to know that which is interdicted,—and quench our thirst at a fountain that only inflames our curiosity the more. Be warned, my son. You are embarked on a perilous enterprise, and if you pursue it, it will lead you to certain destruction.”

      “I cannot retreat,” rejoined Fawkes, “and would not, if I could. I am bound by an oath too terrible to be broken.”

      “I will absolve you of your oath, my son,” said Dr. Dee, eagerly.

      “You cannot, reverend sir,” replied Fawkes. “By no sophistry could I clear my conscience of the ties imposed upon it. I have sworn never to desist from the execution of this scheme, unless those engaged in it shall give me leave. Nay, so resolved am I, that if I stood alone I would go on.”

      As he spoke, a deep groan issued from the corpse.

      “You are again warned, my son,” said Dee.

      “Come forth,” said Guy Fawkes, rushing towards the door, and throwing it open. “This place stifles me.”

      The night has already been described as bright and beautiful. Before him stood the Collegiate Church bathed in moonlight. He gazed abstractedly at this venerable structure for a few moments, and then returned to the charnel, where he found Doctor Dee and Kelley employed in placing the body of the prophetess in a coffin, which they had taken from a pile in the corner. He immediately proffered his assistance, and in a short space the task was completed. The coffin was then borne towards the grave, at the edge of which it was laid while the burial-service was recited by Doctor Dee. This ended, it was lowered into its shallow resting-place, and speedily covered with earth.

      When all was ready for their departure, the Doctor turned to Fawkes, and, bidding him farewell, observed,

      “If you are wise, my son, you will profit by the awful warning you have this night received.”

      “Before we part, reverend sir,” replied Fawkes, “I would ask if you know of other means whereby an insight may be obtained into the future?”

      “Many, my son,” replied Dee. “I have a magic glass, in which, with due preparation, you may behold exact representations of coming events. I am now returning to the College, and if you will accompany me, I will show it to you.”

      The offer was eagerly accepted, and the party quitted the churchyard.

      CHAPTER VIII.

       THE MAGIC GLASS.

       Table of Contents

      The old College of Manchester occupied, as is well known, the site of the existing structure, called after the benevolent individual by whom that admirable charity was founded, and whom we have ventured to introduce in this history,—the Chetham Hospital. Much, indeed, of the ancient building remains; for though it was considerably repaired and enlarged, being “very ruinous and in great decay,” at the time of its purchase in 1654, by the feoffees under Humphrey Chetham's will, from the sequestrators of the Earl of Derby's estates, still the general character of the fabric has been preserved, and several of its chambers retained. Originally built on the foundation of a manor-house denominated The Baron's Hall,—the abode of the Grelleys and the De la Warrs, lords of Manchester,—the College continued to be used as the residence of the warden and fellows of the Collegiate Church until the reign of Edward the First, when that body was dissolved. On the accession, however, of Mary, the College was re-established; but the residence of the ecclesiastical body being removed to a house in Deansgate, the building was allowed to become extremely dilapidated, and was used partly as a prison for recusants and other offenders, and partly as a magazine for powder. In this state Dr. Dee found it when he succeeded to the wardenship in 1595, and preferring it, notwithstanding its ruinous condition, to the house appointed for him elsewhere, took up his abode within it.

      Situated on a high rock, overhanging the river Irk—at that time a clear stream, remarkable for the excellence of its fish,—and constructed entirely of stone, the old College had then, and still has to a certain extent, a venerable and monastic appearance. During Dee's occupation of it, it became a sort of weird abode in the eyes of the vulgar, and many a timorous look was cast at it by those who walked at eventide on the opposite bank of the Irk. Sometimes the curiosity of the watchers was rewarded by beholding a few sparks issue from the chimney, and now and then, the red reflection of a fire might be discerned through the window. But generally nothing could be perceived, and the building seemed as dark and mysterious as its occupant.

      One night, however, a loud explosion took place,—so loud, indeed, that it shook the whole pile to its foundation, dislodged one or two of the chimneys, and overthrew an old wall, the stones of which rolled into the river beneath. Alarmed by the concussion, the inhabitants of Hunt's Bank rushed forth, and saw, to their great alarm, that the wing of the college occupied by Doctor Dee was in flames. Though many of them attributed the circumstance to supernatural agency, and were fully persuaded that the enemy of mankind was at that instant bearing off the conjuror and his assistant, and refused to interfere to stop the conflagration, others, more humane and less superstitious, hastened to lend their aid to extinguish the flames. On reaching

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