In Honour's Cause Part 87

"The servants say that the carriage was being driven back quickly by the shortest cuts, so as to avoid the main thoroughfares, when in one of the quiet streets by Soho three hors.e.m.e.n stopped the way, and seized the reins as the coachman drew up to avoid an accident. A carriage which had been following came up, and half a dozen men sprang from it--one from the box, two from behind, and the rest from inside. The footmen were hustled away, and threatened with drawn swords by four of the attacking party, while the others opened the door, as one of them says, to abduct Lady Gowan, but the other declares that it was a man in disguise who sprang out and then into the other carriage, which was driven off, all taking place quickly and before any alarm could be given. The startled men then came on to state what had occurred; but almost at the same time the tidings came from the prison that Lady Gowan remained behind, and that it was Sir Robert whom they had helped away."

"Oh!" groaned Frank, giddy with excitement. "Come faster, or I must run. She is dying to know. I must go and tell her he is safe."

"You cannot, you foolish boy," cried the captain, half angrily. "Do you suppose they would admit you to the prison now?"

"Prison!" cried Frank wildly. "Did I not tell you that she was close here--at our own house."

"What! When did you see her?"

"Not a quarter of an hour ago."

Captain Murray uttered a gasp.

"My poor lad!" he groaned. "Poor Rob--poor Lady Gowan! Then it is all a miserable concoction, Frank. He has not escaped."

"Yes, yes," cried the lad wildly. "You don't understand. It was Drew Forbes who went--my mother's cloak and veil."

"What! And your mother is safe at home?"

"Yes, yes," cried Frank. "Don't you see?"

The captain burst into a wild, strange laugh, and stood with his face white from agony and his hand pressed upon his side.

"Run," he whispered; "I am crippled. I can go no farther. Tell her at once. They will get him out of the country safely now. Oh, Frank boy, what glorious news!"

Frank hardly heard the last words, but dashed off to where he found his mother kneeling by the couch in the darkened room, her face buried in her hands.

But she heard his step, and sprang up, her face so ghastly that it frightened him as he shouted aloud:

"Safe, mother!--escaped!"

"Ah!" she cried, in a low, deep sigh full of thankfulness; and she fell upon her knees with her hands clasped together and her head bent low upon her breast, just as the clouds that had been hanging heavily all the day opened out; and where the shutters were partly thrown back a broad band of golden light shot into the room and bathed the kneeling figure offering up her prayer of thankfulness for her husband's life, while Frank knelt there by her side.

It was about an hour later, when mother and son were seated together, calm and pale after the terrible excitement, talking of their future--of what was to happen next, and what would be their punishment and that of the brave, high-spirited lad who was now a prisoner--that Berry tapped softly at the door.

"A letter, my lady," she said, "for Master Frank;" and as she came timidly forward, the old woman's eyes looked red and swollen with weeping.

"For me, Berry?" cried Frank wonderingly. "Why, nurse, you've been crying."

"I'm heart-broken, Master Frank, to see all this trouble."

"Then go and mend it," cried the lad excitedly. "The trouble's over.

It's all right now."

"Ah! and may I bring your ladys.h.i.+p a dish of tay?"

"Yes, and quickly," said Frank tearing open the letter. "Mother!" he cried excitedly, "it's from Drew."

It was badly written, and in a wild strain of forced mirth.

"Just a line, countryman," he wrote. "This is to be delivered when all's over, and dear old Sir Robert is safe away. Tell my dear Lady Gowan I'm doing this as I would have done it for my own mother, and did not tell you because you're such a jealous old chap, and would have wanted to go yourself. I say, don't tell her this. I don't believe they'll do anything to me, because they'll look upon me as a boy, and I'm reckoning upon its being the grandest piece of fun I ever had. If they do chop me short off, I leave you my curse if you don't take down my head off the spike they'll stick it on, at the top of Temple Bar, out of spite because they could not get Sir Robert's. Good-bye, old usurper wors.h.i.+pper. I can't help liking you, all the same. Try and get my sword, and wear it for the sake of crack-brained Drew."

"Poor old Drew!" groaned Frank, in a broken voice. "Oh, mother, I was not to let you see all this."

"Not see it?" said Lady Gowan softly; and her tears fell fast upon the letter, as she pressed it to her lips. "Yes, Frank, you would have done the same. But no; they will not--they dare not punish him. The whole nation would rise against those who took vengeance upon the brave act of the gallant boy."

That evening the problem of their future was partly solved by another letter brought by hand from the Palace. It was from the Princess, and very brief:

"I cannot blame you for what you have done, for my heart has been with you through all your trouble. At present you and your son must remain away. Some day I hope we shall meet again.

"Always your friend."

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

AU REVOIR.

About a fortnight after the events related in the last chapter a little scene took place on board a fis.h.i.+ng lugger, lying swinging to a buoy in one of the rocky coves of the Cornish coast. A small boat hung behind, in which, dimly seen in the gloom of a soft dark night, sat a st.u.r.dy-looking man, four others being seated in the lugger, ready to cast off and hoist the two sails, while, quite aft on the little piece of deck, beneath which there was a cabin, stood four figures in cloaks.

"All ready, master," said one of the men in a singsong tone. "Tide's just right, and the wind's springing up. We ought to go."

"In one minute," said one of the gentlemen in cloaks; and then he turned to lay his hands upon the shoulders of the figure nearest to him: "Yes, we must get it over, Frank. Good-bye, G.o.d bless you, boy! We are thoroughly safe now; but I feel like a coward in escaping."

"No, Gowan," said the gentleman behind him. "We can do no more. If they are to be saved, our friends will do everything that can be done.

Remember they wish us gone."

"Yes; but situated as I am it is mad to go. You have your son, thanks to the efforts of the Prince and Princess. I have to leave all behind.

Frank boy, will you let me go alone? will you not come with me, even if it is to be a wanderer in some distant land?"

Frank uttered a half-strangled cry, and clung to his father's hands.

"Yes, father," he said, in a broken voice; "I cannot leave you. I'll go with you, and share your lot."

"G.o.d bless you, my boy!" cried the captain, folding him in his arms.

"There," he said the next minute, in decisive tones, "we must be men.

No; I only said that to try if you were my own true lad. Go back; your place is at your mother's side. Your career is marked out. I will not try to drag you from those who are your friends. The happy old days may come for us all again, when this miserable political struggling is at an end. Frank," he whispered, "who knows what is in the future for us all?" Then quite cheerfully: "Good-bye, lad. I'll write soon. Get back as quickly as you can. Say good-bye to Colonel Forbes and Drew."

"Good-bye--good-bye!" cried Frank quickly, as he shook hands, and then was hurried into the little boat, his father leaning over from the lugger to hold his hand till the last.

That last soon came, for the rope was slipped from the ring of the buoy as one of the sails was hoisted, the lugger careened as the canvas caught the wind, and the hands were suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed apart.

The second sail followed, and the lugger seemed to melt away into the gloom, as the boat softly rose and fell upon the black water fifty yards from the rocky sh.o.r.e.

"Good-bye!" came from out of the darkness, and again, "Good-bye!" in the voices of Colonel Forbes and his son Drew.

Lastly, and very faintly heard, Sir Robert Gowan's voice floated over the heaving sea: "_Au revoir_!"

History tells of the stern punishment meted out to the leaders of the rebellion--saving to Lord Nithsdale, who escaped, as Sir Robert had, in women's clothes--of the disastrous fights in Scotland, and the many condemned to death or sent as little better than slaves to the American colonies. But it does not tell how years after, at the earnest prayer of the gallant young officer in the Prince's favourite regiment, Sir Robert Gowan was recalled from exile to take his place in the army at a time when the old Pretender's cause was dead, and Drew Forbes and his father were distinguished officers in the service of the King of France.