In Honour's Cause Part 65

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

FRANK ASKS LEAVE TO GO.

"Yes," said Lady Gowan sadly, after her meeting with her son, "it is terrible; but after all my teaching, telling you of your duty to be loyal to those whom we serve and who have been such friends to us, I could not nerve myself to tell you the dreadful truth. You are right, my boy. More than ever now we are out of place here; we must go."

"Yes, mother," said the boy gravely, "we must go."

"Let me read the letter, Frank."

"Read it, mother? I have repeated every word. It wanted no learning.

I knew it when I had read it once."

"Yes; but I must read your father's letter to you myself."

"How could I keep it?" he said, almost fiercely. "I expected to be arrested and searched. It is burned."

Lady Gowan uttered a weary sigh, and clung to her boy's hand.

"Going, dear?" she said; "so soon?"

"Yes, mother; I have so much to do. I can't stay now. Perhaps I shall be a prisoner again after this business, and coming back here protected by a riotous crowd."

"No, no, dear; the Prince, however stern his father may be, is just, and he will not punish you."

"I don't know," said the boy drearily. "I want to do something before I am stopped;" and he hurried away, looking older and more careworn than ever, to go at once to the officers' quarters, intending to see Captain Murray; but the first person he met was the doctor, who caught him by the arm, and almost dragged him into his room.

"Sit down there," he cried sharply, as he scanned the boy with his searching gaze.

"Don't stop me, sir, please," said Frank appealingly. "I am very busy.

Do you want me?"

"No; but you look as if you want me."

"No, sir--no."

"But I say you do. Don't contradict me. Think I don't know what I'm saying? You do want me. A boy of your years has no business to look like that. What have you been doing? Why, your pulse is galloping nineteen to the dozen, and your head's as hot as fire. You've been eating too much, you voracious young wolf. It's liver and bile. All right, my fine fellow! Pill hydrarg, to-night, and to-morrow morning a delicious goblet before breakfast--sulph mag, tinct sennae, ditto calumba. That will set you right."

Frank looked at him for a moment piteously, and then burst into a strange laugh.

"Eh, hallo!" cried the doctor; "don't laugh in that maniacal way, boy.

Have I got hold of the pig by the wrong tail? Bah! I mean the wrong tail by the pig. Nonsense! nonsense! I mean the wrong pig by--Oh, I see now. Why, Frank, my boy, of course. Ah, poor lad! poor lad!

Murray has been telling me. Well, it's a bad job, and I shouldn't have thought it of Rob Gowan. But there, I don't know: _humanum est errare_.

Not so much erroring in it either. Circ.u.mstances alter cases, and I dare say that if I were kicked out of the army, and I had a chance to be made chief surgeon to the forces of you know whom, I should accept the post."

The boy's head sank down upon his hands, and he did not seem to hear the doctor's words.

"Poor lad!" he continued; "it's a very sad affair, and I'm very sorry for you. I always liked your father, and I never disliked you, which is saying a deal, for I hate boys as a rule. Confounded young monkeys, and no good whatever, except to get into mischief. There, I see now--ought to have seen it with half an eye. There, there, there, my lad; don't take on about it. Cheer up! You're amongst friends who like you, and the sun will come out again, even if it does get behind the black clouds sometimes."

He patted the boy's shoulder, and stroked his back, meaning, old bachelor as he was, to be very tender and fatherly; but it was clumsily done, for the doctor had never served his time to playing at being father, and begun by practising on babies. Hence he only irritated the boy.

"He talks to me and pats me as if I were a dog," said Frank to himself; and he would have manifested his annoyance in some way to one who was doing his best, when fortunately there was a sharp rap at the door, and a familiar voice cried:

"May I come in, doctor?"

"No, sir, no. I'm particularly engaged. Oh, it's you, Murray!--Mind his coming in, Gowan?"

"Oh no; I want to see him!" cried the boy, springing up.

"Come in!" shouted the doctor.

"You here, Frank?" said the captain, holding out his hands, in which the boy sadly placed his own, but withdrew them quickly.

"Yes, of course he is," said the doctor testily. "Came to see his friends. In trouble, and wants comforting."

"Yes," said Captain Murray quietly, as he laid his hand upon the boy's shoulder. "Then you know the truth now, Frank?"

"Yes, sir," said the boy humbly. "I was coming to apologise to you, when the doctor met me and drew me in here."

"Yes; looked so ill. Thought I'd got a job to tinker him up; but he only wants a bit of comforting, to show him he's amongst friends."

"You were coming to do what, boy?" said the captain, as soon as he could get in a word,--"apologise?"

"Yes, sir; I was very obstinate and rude to you."

"Yes, thank goodness, my lad!" cried the captain, holding the boy by both shoulders now, as he hung his head. "Look up. Apologise! Why, Frank, you made me feel very proud of my old friend's son. I always liked you, boy; but never half so well as when you spoke out as you did to the Prince. So you know all now?"

"Yes," said the boy bitterly.

"How?"

"My father has written to me telling me it is true."

"Hah! Well, it's a bad job, my lad; but we will not judge him. Robert Gowan must have suffered bitterly, and been in despair of ever coming back, before he changed his colours. But we can't see why, and how things are. I want no apology, Frank, only for you to come to me as your father's old friend."

Frank looked at him wonderingly.

"Come with me, boy."

Frank looked at him still, but his eyes were wistful now and full of question.

"I want you to come with me to the Prince."

"Yes, sir," said Frank gravely. "I want to beg for an audience before I go."

"Before you go, Frank?"

"Yes, sir. Of course we cannot stay here now."