In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

  A MEETING BETWEEN FRIENDS.

  "`Be at your father's house at four this afternoon, holding the doorajar till I slip in,'" said Frank, repeating his old companion's words,trembling with excitement the while, as he watched till the figure haddisappeared, when a feeling of resentment sent the hot blood to histemples. "No. I will not go. It only means more trouble. Oh, howmuch of it all is due to him!"

  "No," he said a few minutes later. "That is unjust. He must have beenwith the people who attempted the rescue last night. I will go. He isbrave and true, after all. Yes, it is to help again to save my father,and I will be there."

  It was like a fillip to him, and a few minutes after he rose, and wentback to the Palace, passing several officials whom he knew, all salutinghim in a kindly way, as if full of sympathy, but not attempting tospeak.

  His goal was his mother's room, and to his surprise he found herevidently anxiously expecting him, but very calm and resigned in hermanner.

  "Frank dear," she said gently, "I feel as if it is almost heartless ofme to seem so, but I am better. I will not despair, my own boy, for Ifeel so restful. It is as if something told me that our prayers wouldbe heard."

  "And with him lying in irons in that dreadful gaol," thought Frank, witha momentary feeling of resentment--momentary, for it passed away, and hesat with her, telling her, at her urgent prayer, of all the proceedingsof the past night, as well as of his ill-success that morning.

  He had prayed of her not to press him, but she insisted, and it was tofind that, in place of sending her into a fit of despondent weeping, shespoke afterwards quite calmly.

  "Yes," she said gently, as she raised his hand to her cheek and held itthere; "all these things are the plans of men, kings, and princes, withtheir armies. But how insignificant it all seems compared with thegreatness of the Power which rules all. Frank dearest, we cannot--wemust not despair."

  He looked at her wonderingly, and with his heart very sore; but somehowshe seemed to influence him, the future did not look quite so solidlyblack as it had that morning, and he felt ready to tell her of hisencounter with Drew. But fearing to raise her hopes unduly on soslender a basis he refrained, and stayed with her till the time wasapproaching for his visit to the house across the Park. Then he lefther wondering at the feeling of lightness that came over him, and notattributing it to the fact that he had something to do--something whichcalled his faculties into action to scheme and contrive the meetingwithout being baffled by those who dogged the steps of every one aboutthe place.

  Hope was inspiring him too again, and he refrained from going nearCaptain Murray, setting quite at nought all thought of his duties at thePalace, and waiting in his room watching the clock till he felt that itwas time to go.

  He sat for a few moments longer, trying to come to a conclusion whichwould be the better plan--to go carefully to the house after takingevery precaution against being seen, or to go boldly without oncelooking back.

  The latter was the plan he determined to adopt; but to throw dust in theeyes of any watcher, he placed a couple of books under one arm, anddetermined to bring three or four different ones back, so as to make itappear that he had been to change some works in his father's library.

  Whether any spy was upon his track or no he could not tell, for,following out his plan, he went straight away to the house, thunderedloudly at the door, and dragged at the bell.

  The old housekeeper admitted him with her old precautions, and eagerlyasked after her ladyship's health. Her next question, whether he hadheard from Sir Robert, convinced the lad that, living her quiet,secluded life, she was in perfect ignorance of the stirring events ofthe past two or three weeks, and he refrained from enlightening her.

  "Now, Berry," he said, "go down and stay there till I call you upagain."

  "Oh, my dear young master!" said the old woman, beginning to sob.

  "Why, what's the matter, Berry?" he cried.

  "Oh, my dear, my dear!" she sobbed, with her apron to her eyes; "it'sglad I am to see you when you come, but I do wish you'd stay away."

  "Stay away! Why?"

  "Because it only means fresh trouble whenever you come over here. Idon't care for myself a bit, my dear; but as soon as I see your bonnyface, I begin to quake, for I know it means spies and soldiers comingafter you and I expect to see you marched off to the Tower, and broughtback with your head chopped off and put up along with the traitors.Don't do it, my dear; don't do it."

  "Don't do what?" cried Frank impatiently.

  "Don't go running dreadful risks, my dear, and meddling with suchmatters. Let 'em have which king they like, and quarrel and fight aboutit; but don't you have anything to do with it at all."

  "And don't you try to interfere with matters you can't understand, youdear old Berry," cried the lad, kissing her affectionately.

  "Ah! that's like the dear little curly-headed boy who used to come andkiss me, and ask me to melt lumps of sugar in the wax candle to make himcandy drops. I often think now, Master Frank, that you have forgottenyour poor old nurse. Ah! I remember when you had the measles so badly,and your poor dear little face was red and dreadful--"

  "Yes, yes, Berry; but I am so busy now. I expect some one to come."

  "Not the soldiers, my dear?"

  "No, no, no!"

  "Nor those dreadful spies?"

  "I hope not, Berry. You go down, please, at once, and wait till I callyou up."

  "Yes, my dear, yes," said the woman sadly. "You're master now poor dearSir Robert is away. I'll go; but pray, pray be careful. It would killme, my dear."

  "Kill you?" cried Frank. "What would?"

  "I should--yes, I would do that!--I should crawl somehow as far as thecity to have one look at your poor dear head sticking on a spike, andthen I should creep down a side street, and lay my head on a doorstep,and die."

  "No, you shan't!" cried Frank, laughing in spite of his excitement, ashe hurried the weeping old woman to the top of the basement stairs."I'll come here properly, with my head upon my shoulders. There, there;go down and wait. I don't think anything will happen to-day to frightenyou. Never mind; if any one comes I'll open the door."

  "Oh, my dear, I can't let you do that," remonstrated the old woman."What would my lady say?"

  "That old Berry was a dear, good, obedient housekeeper, who always didwhat she was told."

  "Ah!" sighed the old lady, with a piteous smile; "you always did coaxand get the better of me, Master Frank; and many's the time I've madeyou ill by indulging you with pudding and cakes that you begged for.Yes, I'll go down, my dear; but I'll come the moment you call or ring."

  Frank stood watching her till she reached the foot of the stairs, andthen started and ran across the hall in his excitement, for a clock wasstriking, and he had hardly let down the chain and unfastened the doorto hold it ajar, when there was a step outside, it was pushed open, andDrew Forbes glided in, and thrust it to.

  "Frank, old lad!" he cried excitedly, as the chain was replaced; and heseized his companion by the shoulders, and shook him. "Oh, I am glad tosee you again."

  "And I you," cried the lad, as full of excitement.

  "Hah! these are queer times. I am fit to touch now. Did you ever seesuch a miserable, dirty beggar as I was that day in the Park?"

  "Don't talk about that, Drew," cried Frank; "come upstairs."

  "Yes, we may as well sit down, for I'm nearly run off my legs. I say,did you get hurt in the crowd?"

  "A little," said Frank eagerly. "Were you there?"

  Drew did not reply till they were in the room on the first floor lookingover the Park; and then he threw himself full length on one of thecouches, while Frank closed and locked the door.

  "Not laziness, old lad--fagged, and must rest when I can. Was I there?Of course I was. But oh, what a mess we made of it! Everything waswell thought out; but you were too strong for us. We should have gotthem all away if they had not trapped us with the foot guards
. Somesoldier must have planned it all. Our fellows fought like lions tillthey began firing volleys and drove all before them with fixed bayonets.Poor dear old Frank! I am sorry for you."

  "And I'm as sorry for you," said the boy sadly, as he pressed the thin,white, girlish hand which held his.

  "Sorry for me?" said Drew sharply. "I'm all right."

  "Then your father was not one of the prisoners?" said Frank eagerly.

  "Not with them? Didn't you see him there?"

  "No; I only saw that two other gentlemen were in the carriage with myfather. I only had eyes for him."

  "That's natural enough," said Drew; "I hardly saw your father till wegot them all out of the carriages, chained hand and foot. Oh, whatmiserable, cowardly tyranny! Gentlemen, prisoners of war, treated likethieves and murderers! Poor fellows! they could do nothing to helpthemselves."

  "But you rescued one," said Frank. "Is he safe?"

  "Safe as safe," cried Drew joyously.

  "Ah!" said Frank with a sigh, "you are very loyal to your Prince."

  "I don't know so much about that, old lad. He does not turn out well."

  "Not grateful to you all for saving him, while the others wererecaptured and cast in gaol!" Drew sat up suddenly.

  "I say, what are you talking about?" he cried. "About your rescuing andcarrying off the Prince to safety."

  "Nonsense! He was safe enough before. Didn't I say he does not turnout well?"

  "Yes; but you rescued him last night: I heard it at the Palace thismorning."

  "Stuff! He kept himself safe enough over the water without showing hisface."

  "Then who was it you saved?"

  "Who was it? Why, my dear old dad, of course. We nearly lost him, fora great tall Guardsman had got hold of him by the fetter ring round hiswaist, only I made him let go. I hope I haven't killed him, Frank,"added the lad between his teeth; "but I had a sword in my hand--and Iused it."

  "Oh, I am glad you have saved your father, Drew."

  "And I am sorry we did not save yours, Frank. Perhaps if you had beenhelping us you might have done as I did, and he too might have beenwhere your King's people couldn't touch him.

  "There, I did not mean to say that," continued Drew, after a shortpause. "It isn't kind and straight to you. I won't reproach you,Franky; for I can't help feeling that you are, as father says, the soulof honour. He said I was to tell you how proud he felt that you were mybest friend--we are friends still, Frank?"

  "Of course."

  "But I have said some nasty things to you, old lad."

  "I can't remember things like that," said Frank sadly; "only that whenyou did not talk of the other side we were very jolly together."

  "And I couldn't help it," said Drew earnestly.

  "I know it."

  "Well, I didn't come here to talk about that."

  "No, it's all past. Let's talk about the future."

  "Yes; how's dear Lady Gowan?"

  "How can she be, Drew?" said Frank wearily.

  The tears started to Drew's eyes, which filled, as he caught hisfriend's hands in his, and the next moment the big drops began tricklingdown.

  "There," he said quietly, "I'm crying like a great girl. I can't helpit when I think about her. I always was a weak, passionate, hystericalsort of fellow, Frank, and I'm worse than ever now with all this strain.But you tell her when you go back that there are some thousands of goodmen and true now in London who will not stop till they have saved dearSir Robert, and the other brave leaders who are shut up in that wretchedprison."

  "Ah!" sighed Frank; "if they only could!"

  "But we will," cried Drew excitedly.

  "Well, your father is safe," said Frank bitterly. "I suppose he willleave the country now?"

  "What, and forsake his friends?" cried Drew proudly. "You don't know myfather yet. No; he says he will not stir till your father is safe; andwe'll have them out yet, if we have to burn the prison first."

  Frank looked at him wildly.

  "But there are more ways of killing a cat than hanging it, lad,"continued Drew with a laugh, as he dashed away the last of hishysterical tears. "I look a nice sort of a hero, don't I? But I cameto tell you not to be down-hearted, for there are plenty of brains atwork."

  "And I must help!" cried Frank excitedly.

  "No; you leave it to the older heads. I should like to help too; but myfather says that I am to leave it to him. He has a plan. And now I amcoming to what I came principally for."

  "Then you have something else to say?"

  "Yes. Is your mother still so very ill?"

  "Yes, very."

  "That is bad; but ill or no, she must make an effort."

  "Oh, she is making every effort to get my father spared," cried Frankbitterly.

  "I suppose so," said Drew. "But look here; your poor father issuffering horribly."

  "As if I did not know that!" cried Frank.

  "And my father says that Lady Gowan must get a permit to allow her to goand see him in prison."

  "Yes, of course," cried Frank excitedly.

  "Go back then now, and tell her to get leave; the Princess will--mustget that for her. They can't refuse it."

  "No, they dare not!" said Frank, whose pale face was now quivering withemotion.

  "When would she go?"

  "As soon as possible--to-day if she could."

  "To-morrow would be better," said Drew quietly. "She would go in hercarriage, of course."

  "Oh no; she would go in one of the royal carriages--the one used by theladies of honour."

  "Of course. I did not see that."

  "I shall go with her," said Frank.

  "No; she must go to him alone. You saw Sir Robert yesterday. My fatherthought of that. He said it would be better."

  "I'll do anything he thinks best."

  "Then go back now, and tell her to be calm, and to try all she can to bestrong enough to see the Princess and get the permission."

  "Yes, I'll go directly," said Frank. "But you? I don't want you to runany risks."

  "And I don't want to. May I stay here till dark?"

  "Of course."

  "Then call up your housekeeper, and tell her that I am to come and gohere just as if I belonged to the place."

  Frank hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Yes, of course."

  "I'll tell you why, Frank, my lad," said Drew quickly. "When yourmother leaves the Palace to go to Newgate, she must call here first."

  "Here first! Why?"

  "To see me. I shall be here with a very important message from myfather to yours. Tell Lady Gowan she must come, for it may mean thesaving of your father's life."

  "But--"

  "Don't raise obstacles, lad," cried Drew angrily. "Is there anything sostrange in her telling the servants to drive to her own house andcalling here first?"

  "Then it is to take files and ropes," whispered Frank.

  "It is to do nothing of the sort," said Drew sharply. "Such plans wouldbe childish. Lady Gowan will not be asked to do anything to help herhusband to escape. It can't be done that way, Frank. Now, then, youare man enough to think for her in this emergency. Tell her what to do,and she will cling to you and follow your advice. Will you do this?"

  "Will I do it!" cried the lad. "Is there anything I would not do tospare her pain?"

  "That's good. Come here, and meet her afterwards."

  "Yes, of course."

  "Give her plenty of time first. Now ring for your old lady, and tellher I am to stay and do as I like. And, I say, Frank, I'm starving. Ihave eaten nothing to-day."

  "Oh!" ejaculated the lad. "Well, that will please her."

  "I must have a key to come and go."

  "You shall do what you please, only pray be careful. Don't get yourselfarrested."

  "Not if I can help it, lad. Now, be of good heart; we shall save yourfather yet. It may not be till after his trial."

  "His trial?"

  "Of course.
They'll all be tried and condemned; but we will have themaway, and perhaps James Francis on the throne even yet."

  Frank looked at him searchingly, when Drew lay down again, as ifsomething was on his mind that he could not clearly grasp; but he saidnothing, and rang the bell, which was answered directly by the oldhousekeeper.

  "Mrs Berry," said Frank, "my friend here--"

  "Mr Andrew Forbes, sir, yes."

  "Hi! Hush! What are you talking about?" cried Drew, starting upangrily. "I'm not here, my good woman. Do you want to send me toprison?"

  "Oh dear me, oh dear me!" cried the poor woman excitedly. "What have Idone now?"

  "Nothing, nothing, Berry," said Frank hastily, "only it must not beknown that Mr Forbes is here. You must not mention his name again."

  "Very well, sir," said the woman sadly; and she gave her young master areproachful look.

  "My friend will have the front-door key, and stay here or come and go asoften as he likes."

  "Very well, sir. You are master now," said the housekeeper sadly.

  "He will be here to meet my mother, who will probably come overto-morrow."

  "Oh, my dear Master Frank!" cried the woman, brightening up. "That isgood news."

  "So do all you can for my friend. He wants breakfast or lunch at once.He's faint and hungry."

  "Oh, I'll get something ready directly, sir."

  "And you will be silent and discreet, Berry."

  "You may trust me, sir; and I'll do my best to make your friendcomfortable. Will he sleep here to-night?"

  "If he wishes, Berry."

  "Certainly, sir;" and the housekeeper hurried away.

  "That's right," said Drew quietly. "I don't think any one saw me come.Now you be off, and don't fail to send Lady Gowan to comfort your poorfather in his distress."

  They parted directly after, and Frank hurried back, and went straight tohis mother's apartments.