In Honour's Cause Part 68

"Poor lady!" said the captain.

"Amen to that," said the doctor huskily; and he pulled out his snuff-box, and took three pinches in succession, making himself sneeze violently as an excuse for taking out his great red-and-yellow silk handkerchief and using it to a great extent.

"Hah!" he said at last, as he looked across at Frank, with his eyes quite wet; "and poor old Robert Gowan! Rebel, they call him; but we here, Frank, can only look upon him more as brother than friend."

"But," cried the boy pa.s.sionately, "there is hope for him yet. He is not taken, in spite of what my mother said. He would have escaped to the coast, and made again for France."

"What did your mother say?" asked Captain Murray, looking at the boy fixedly.

"My mother say? That my father would never forsake the men whom he was leading to victory or death."

"Yes; she was right, Frank, my lad. He would never turn his back on his men to save himself."

"Of course not, till the day was hopelessly lost."

"Not when the day was hopelessly lost," said Captain Murray, so sternly that Frank took alarm.

"Why do you speak to me like that?" he cried, rising from his seat.

"His name was not in the despatch. Ah! you have heard. There is something worse behind. Oh, Captain Murray, don't say that he was killed."

"I say," said that officer sadly, "it were better that he had been killed--that he had died leading his men, as a brave officer should die."

"Then he did not," cried Frank, with a hoa.r.s.e sigh of relief.

"No, he escaped that."

"And to liberty?"

"No, my boy, no," said the doctor, uttering a groan.

"But I tell you that his name was not in the despatch. He couldn't have been taken prisoner."

There was silence in the room, and the candles for want of snuffing were very dim.

"Why don't you speak to me?" cried Frank pa.s.sionately. "Am I such a boy that you treat me as a child?"

"My poor lad! You must know the truth," said Captain Murray gently.

"Your father's and Colonel Forbes's names are both in the despatch as prisoners."

"No, no, no!" cried Frank wildly. "The Princess--"

"Kept the worst news back, to try and spare your poor mother pain. It is as I always feared."

"Then you are right," moaned Frank; and he uttered a piteous cry. "Yes, it would have been better if he had died."

For the headsman's axe seemed to be glimmering in the black darkness ahead, and he shuddered as he recalled once more what he had seen on Temple Bar.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

UNDER THE DARK CLOUD.

There was no waiting for news now. Despatch succeeded despatch rapidly, and the occupants of the Palace were made familiar with the proceedings in the north; and as Frank heard more and more of the disastrous tidings he was in agony, and at last announced to Captain Murray that he could bear it all no longer.

"I must go and join my father," he said one day. "It is cruel and cowardly to stay here in the midst of all this luxury and rejoicing, while he is being dragged up to London like a criminal."

"Have you told Lady Gowan of your intentions?" said the captain quietly.

"Told her? No!" cried Frank excitedly. "Why, in her state it would half kill her."

"And if you break away from here and go to join your father, it would quite kill her."

Frank looked at him aghast, and the captain went on:

"We must practise common sense, Frank, and not act madly at a time like this."

"Is it to act madly to go and help one's father in his great trouble?"

"No; you must help him, but in the best way."

"That is the best way," said the boy hotly.

"No. What would you do?"

"Go straight to him and try and make his lot more bearable. Think how glad he would be to see me."

"Of course he would, and then he would blame you for leaving your mother's side when she is sick and suffering."

"But this is such a terrible time of need. I must go to him; but I wanted to be straightforward and tell you first."

"Good lad."

"Think what a terrible position mine is, Captain Murray."

"I do, boy, constantly; but I must, as your friend and your father's, look at the position sensibly."

"Oh, you are so cold and calculating, when my father's life is at stake."

"Yes. I don't want you to do anything that would injure him."

"I--injure him!"

"Yes, boy."

"But I only want to be by his side."

"Well, to do that you would run away from here, for the Prince would not let you go."