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

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

  CAPTAIN MURRAY'S NEWS.

  The walk in the cool air beneath the trees seemed to have the oppositeeffect to that intended, for the boy's head was burning, and his busyimagination kept on forming pictures of what had passed and was passingthen. He saw his mother get out of the carriage at their own door, thatweak, sorrow-bent form in black, and enter, the carriage waiting for herreturn. He followed her up the broad staircase into the half-darkeneddrawing-room, where Drew was waiting to give her the important messagefrom his father.

  "Yes," thought the boy; "it will be a letter of instructions what he isto do, for they have, I feel certain now, made some plan for his escape.But what?"

  Then, with everything in his waking dream, he saw his mother descend andleave the house again, enter the carriage, the steps were rattled up,the door closed, and he followed it in imagination along the crowdedstreets to the dismal front of Newgate, where, with vivid clearness, hesaw her enter the gloomy door and disappear.

  "I can't bear it," he groaned, as he threw himself on the grass; "Ican't bear it. I feel as if I shall go mad."

  At last the hot, beating sensation in his head grew less painful, forthe vivid pictures had ceased to form themselves as he mentally saw hismother enter the prison, and in a dull, heavy, despairing fashion hereclined there, waiting until fully two hours should have passed awaybefore he attempted to return to his mother's apartment to await herreturn.

  The time went slowly now, and he lay thinking of the meeting that mustbe taking place, till, feeling that if he lay longer there he shouldexcite attention, he rose and walked slowly on, meaning to go rightround the Park, carrying out his original intention of trying to growcalm.

  He went slowly on, so as to pass the time, for he felt that it would beunbearable to go back to his mother's room, and perhaps have the nurseand maid fidgeting in and out.

  The result was that he almost crept along thinking, but in a differentstrain, for there were no more vivid pictures, his brain from thereaction seeming drowsy and sluggish. Half unconscious now of theprogress of time, he sauntered on till the sight of the back of theirhouse roused the desire to go and see if Drew were still there; and,hurrying now, he made his way round to the front, knocked, heard thechain put up, and as it was opened saw the old housekeeper peering outsuspiciously.

  The next minute he was in the hall, with the old woman looking at himanxiously.

  "Did my mother come?" he said hoarsely.

  "Poor dear lady! Yes, my dear, looking so bent and strange she couldhardly speak to me; and when she lifted her veil I was shocked to seehow thin and pale she was."

  "Yes, yes; but did she go up and see--"

  "Mr Friend? Yes, my dear, and stayed talking to him for quite half anhour before she came down. She did not ring first; but I saw her fromthe window almost tottering, and leaning on the footman's arm. He hadquite to help her into the carriage. Oh, my dear, is all this troublenever to have an end?"

  "Don't talk to me, Berry; but please go down. I am going up to see myfriend. He is in the drawing-room, I suppose?"

  "Oh yes, my dear. He has been in and out when I have not known, and Iheard him talking to himself last night. Poor young man! he seems introuble too."

  "Yes, yes. Go down now," said Frank hastily; and as the old womandescended, he sprang up the stairs, and turned the handle of thedrawing-room door.

  But it was locked.

  He knocked sharply.

  "Open the door," he said, with his lips to the keyhole. "It is I--Frank."

  The key was turned, and he stepped in quickly, to stand numbed withsurprise; for Lady Gowan, looking ghastly white, stood before him,without bonnet or cloak.

  "Well?" she cried; "tell me quick!" and her voice sounded hoarse andstrange.

  "You here!" stammered Frank. "Oh, I see. Oh, mother, mother, and youhave been too ill to go."

  "No, no. Don't question me," she said wildly. "I can't bear it. Onlytell me, boy--the truth--the truth!"

  "You are ill," he cried. "Here, let me help you to the couch. Liedown, dear. The doctor must be fetched."

  "Frank!" she cried, "do you wish to drive me mad? Don't keep it back.I am not ill. Your father! Has he escaped?"

  It was some minutes before he could compel his mother to believe that heknew nothing, and grasped from her incoherent explanations that, whenshe had reached the house two hours before, she had come up to thedrawing-room and found Drew impatiently waiting there.

  He had then given her his father's message of hope for his dear friend'ssafety, and his assurance that a couple of thousand friends would savehim. Moreover, the lad unfolded the plan they had made.

  It was simple enough, and possible from its daring, for at the sight ofthe King's order the authorities of the prison would be off their guard.

  Lady Gowan was to give up dress, bonnet, and cloak, furnish Drew withthe royal mandate, leave him to complete the disguise by means of falsehair, and thus play the part of the heart-broken, weeping wife.

  Thus disguised, he was to go down to the carriage, be helped in, anddriven to the prison. There he was to stay the full time, and in theinterval to exchange dresses with the prisoner, who, cloaked and veiled,bent with suffering and grief, was to present himself at the door whenthe steps of the gaolers were heard, and suffer himself to be assistedback to the carriage and driven off.

  "Yes, but then--then--" cried Frank wildly. "Oh, it is madness; itcould not succeed!"

  "Don't, don't say that, my boy," wailed Lady Gowan. "I must, mother, Imust," cried the boy passionately. "Why did he not confide in me? Icould have told him what I dared not tell you."

  "Yes, yes, what?" cried Lady Gowan. "Tell me now. I can--I will bearit."

  "My poor father was fettered hand and foot. It was impossible for himto escape."

  There was a painful silence, which was broken at last by Lady Gowan, wholaid her hands with a deprecating gesture upon her son's breast.

  "Don't blame me, Frank," she whispered. "I was in despair. I snatchedat the proposal, thinking it might do some good, when my heart wasyearning to be at your father's side. You cannot think what Isuffered."

  "Blame you?" cried Frank. "Oh, how could I, mother? But I must leaveyou now."

  "Leave me! At a time like this?"

  "Yes, you must bear it, mother. I will come back as soon as possible;but Drew--the carriage? Even if he succeeded in deceiving the gaolersand people, what has happened since?"

  "Yes, you must go," said Lady Gowan, as she fought hard to be firm."Go, get some news, my boy, and come back to me, even if it is to tellme the worst. Remember that I am in an agony of suspense that iskilling me."

  Frank hurried out, feeling as if it was all some terrible dream, and onreaching the street he directed his steps east, to make his way to thegreat prison. But he turned back before he had gone many yards.

  "No," he thought; "everything must be over there, and I could not getany news. They would not listen to me."

  He walked hurriedly along, turning into the Park, and another idea cameto him: the royal stables, he would go and see if the carriage hadreturned. If it had, he could learn from the servants all that hadoccurred.

  He broke into a run, and was three parts of the way back to thestable-yard, seeing nothing before him, when his progress was checked bya strong arm thrown across his chest.

  "Don't stop me!" he shouted.--"You, Captain Murray!"

  "Yes, I was in search of you. Have you heard?"

  "Heard? Heard what?" panted the boy.

  "Your father has escaped."

  Frank turned sharply to dash off; but Captain Murray's strong handgrasped his arm.

  "Stop!" he cried. "I cannot run after you; I'll walk fast. My side isbad."

  "Don't stop me," cried Frank piteously.

  "I must, boy. It is madness to be running about like this. Don't bringsuspicion upon you, and get yourself arrested--and separated from yourmother when s
he wants you most."

  "Hah!" ejaculated Frank; and he fell into step with his father's oldcomrade.

  "I will not ask you where you are going; but I suppose in search of yourmother."

  "Yes; she is at home."

  "What? My poor boy! No. The news is now running through the Palacelike wildfire. She went to visit your father in Newgate this afternoon,as you know. I don't wish to ask what complicity you had in the plot."

  "None," cried Frank excitedly.

  "I am glad of it, though anything was excusable for you at such a time.On reaching the prison she was supported in by the servants and gaolers.She stayed there nearly an hour, and, as the people there supposed, shewas carried back to the carriage in a chair, half fainting."

  "Ah!" ejaculated Frank, who was trembling in every limb.

  "The servants say that the carriage was being driven back quickly by theshortest cuts, so as to avoid the main thoroughfares, when in one of thequiet streets by Soho three horsemen stopped the way, and seized thereins as the coachman drew up to avoid an accident. A carriage whichhad been following came up, and half a dozen men sprang from it--onefrom the box, two from behind, and the rest from inside. The footmenwere hustled away, and threatened with drawn swords by four of theattacking 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 indisguise who sprang out and then into the other carriage, which wasdriven off, all taking place quickly and before any alarm could begiven. The startled men then came on to state what had occurred; butalmost at the same time the tidings came from the prison that Lady Gowanremained behind, and that it was Sir Robert whom they had helped away."

  "Oh!" groaned Frank, giddy with excitement. "Come faster, or I mustrun. 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 yousuppose they would admit you to the prison now?"

  "Prison!" cried Frank wildly. "Did I not tell you that she was closehere--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 alla miserable concoction, Frank. He has not escaped."

  "Yes, yes," cried the lad wildly. "You don't understand. It was DrewForbes 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 facewhite from agony and his hand pressed upon his side.

  "Run," he whispered; "I am crippled. I can go no farther. Tell her atonce. 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 hismother kneeling by the couch in the darkened room, her face buried inher hands.

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

  "Safe, mother!--escaped!"

  "Ah!" she cried, in a low, deep sigh full of thankfulness; and she fellupon her knees with her hands clasped together and her head bent lowupon her breast, just as the clouds that had been hanging heavily allthe day opened out; and where the shutters were partly thrown back abroad band of golden light shot into the room and bathed the kneelingfigure 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--ofwhat was to happen next, and what would be their punishment and that ofthe brave, high-spirited lad who was now a prisoner--that Berry tappedsoftly at the door.

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

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

  "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 ladyship a dish of tay?"

  "Yes, and quickly," said Frank tearing open the letter. "Mother!" hecried 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 whenall's over, and dear old Sir Robert is safe away. Tell my dear LadyGowan I'm doing this as I would have done it for my own mother, and didnot tell you because you're such a jealous old chap, and would havewanted to go yourself. I say, don't tell her this. I don't believethey'll do anything to me, because they'll look upon me as a boy, andI'm reckoning upon its being the grandest piece of fun I ever had. Ifthey do chop me short off, I leave you my curse if you don't take downmy head off the spike they'll stick it on, at the top of Temple Bar, outof spite because they could not get Sir Robert's. Good-bye, old usurperworshipper. I can't help liking you, all the same. Try and get mysword, and wear it for the sake of crack-brained Drew."

  "Poor old Drew!" groaned Frank, in a broken voice. "Oh, mother, I wasnot to let you see all this."

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

  That evening the problem of their future was partly solved by anotherletter brought by hand from the Palace. It was from the Princess, andvery brief:

  "I cannot blame you for what you have done, for my heart has been withyou through all your trouble. At present you and your son must remainaway. 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 littlescene took place on board a fishing lugger, lying swinging to a buoy inone 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 asturdy-looking man, four others being seated in the lugger, ready tocast off and hoist the two sails, while, quite aft on the little pieceof 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'sjust right, and the wind's springing up. We ought to go."

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

  "No, Gowan," said the gentleman behind him. "We can do no more. Ifthey 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, thanksto 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 ifit 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 gowith you, and share your lot."

  "God 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; yourplace is at your mother's side. Your career is marked out. I will nottry to drag you from those who are your friends. The happy old days maycome for us all again, when this miserable political struggling is at anend. Frank," he whispered, "who knows what is in the future for usall?" Then quite cheerfully: "Good-bye, lad. I'll write soon. Getback as quickly as you can. Say good-b
ye to Colonel Forbes and Drew."

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

  That last soon came, for the rope was slipped from the ring of the buoyas one of the sails was hoisted, the lugger careened as the canvascaught the wind, and the hands were suddenly snatched apart.

  The second sail followed, and the lugger seemed to melt away into thegloom, as the boat softly rose and fell upon the black water fifty yardsfrom the rocky shore.

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

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

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

  THE END.