For the moment Frank Gowan forgot that it was only half-past five, and
after waiting a reasonable time he rang again.
But all was still in the court, which lay in the shade, while the great
red-brick clock tower was beginning to glow in the sunshine. There were
some pigeons on one of the roofs preening their plumes, and a few
sparrows chirping here and there, while every window visible from where
the boy stood was whitened by the drawn-down blinds.
He rang again and waited, but all was as silent as if the place were
uninhabited, and the whistling of wings as half a dozen pigeons suddenly
flew down to begin stalking about as if in search of food sounded
startling.
"Too soon," thought Frank; and going a little way along, he seated
himself upon a dumpy stone post, to wait patiently till such time as the
Palace servants were astir.
And there in the silence his thoughts went back to his adventures that
morning, and the scene, which seemed to have been enacted days and days
ago, came vividly before his eyes, while he thrilled once more with the
feeling of mingled horror and excitement, as he seemed to stand again
close behind Captain Murray, expecting moment by moment to see his
father succumb to the German's savage attack.
There it all was, as clear as if it were still going on, right to the
moment when the baron missed his desperate thrust and literally fell
upon his adversary's point.
"It was horrid, horrid, horrid," muttered the lad with a shiver; and he
tried to divert his mind by thinking of how he should relate just a
sufficiency of the encounter to his mother, and no more.
"Yes," he said to himself. "I'll just tell her that they fought, that
father was scratched by the baron's sword, and then the baron was badly
wounded in return.
"That will do," he said, feeling perfectly satisfied; "I'll tell her
just in this way."
But as he came to this determination, doubt began to creep in and ask
him whether he could relate the trouble so coolly and easily when his
mother's clear eyes were watching him closely and searching for every
scrap of truth; and then he began to think it possible that he might
fail, and stand before her feeling guilty of keeping a great deal back.
"I know I shall grow confused, and that she will not believe that poor
father's arm was only scratched, and she'll think at once that it is a
serious wound, and that the baron is dead."
He turned so hot at this that he rose quickly, and walked along all four
sides of the quadrangle to cool himself before going to the door once
more and giving a sharp ring.
"Are the servants going to lie in bed all day?" he said peevishly.
"They ought to be down before this."
But the ring meeting with no response, he sat down again to try and
think out what the consequences of the events of the morning would be.
Here, however, he found himself confronted by a thick, black veil, which
shut out the future. It was easy enough to read the past, but to
imagine what was to come was beyond him.
At last, when quite an hour had passed, he grew impatient, and rang
sharply this time, to hear a window opened somewhere at the top of the
house; and when he looked up, it was to see a head thrust forth and
rapidly withdrawn.
Five minutes or so afterward he heard the shooting of bolts and the
rattling down of a chain, the door was opened, and a pretty-looking
maidservant, with sleep still in her eyes, confronted him
ill-humouredly.
"How late you are!" cried Frank.
"No, sir; please, it's you who are so early. We didn't go to bed till
past one."
"Is Lady Gowan up yet?"
"Lor' bless you, sir, no! Why--oh, I beg your pardon, I'm sure, sir. I
didn't know you at first; it's her ladyship's son, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course. I want to see her directly."
"But you can't, sir. She won't be down this two hours."
"Go and tell my mother I am here, and that I want to see her on
important business."
"Very well, sir; but I know I shall get into trouble for disturbing
her," said the maid ill-humouredly. "She was with the Princess till
ever so late."
The girl went upstairs, leaving Frank waiting in the narrow passage of
the place, and at the end of a few minutes she returned.
"Her ladyship says, sir, you are to come into her little boudoir and
wait; she'll dress, and come down in a few minutes."
Frank followed the maid to the little room, and stood waiting, for he
could not sit down in his anxiety. He felt hot and cold, and as if he
would have given anything to have hurried away, but there was nothing
for it but to screw up his courage and face the matter.
"She'll be half an hour yet," he muttered, "and that will give me time
to grow cool; then I can talk to her."
He was wrong; for at the end of five minutes there was the rustling of
garments, and Lady Gowan entered, in a loose morning gown, looking
startled at being woke up by such a message.
"Why, Frank, my darling boy, what is it?" she cried, as the boy shrank
from her eyes when she embraced him affectionately. "You are ill! No;
in trouble! I can see it in your eyes. Look up at me, my boy, and be
in nature what you are by name. You were right to come to me. There,
sit down by my side, and let it be always so--boy or man, let me always
be your _confidante_, and I will forgive you and advise you if I can."
Frank was silent, but he clung to her, trembling.
"Speak to me, dear," she said, drawing him to her and kissing his
forehead; "it cannot be anything very dreadful--only some escapade."
His lips parted, but no words would come, and he shivered at the thought
of undeceiving her.
"Come, come, dear," she whispered, "there is no one to hear you but I;
and am I not your mother?"
"Yes, but--"
That was all. He could say no more.
"Frank, my boy, why do you hesitate?" she whispered, as she passed her
soft, warm hand over his forehead, which was wet and cold. "Come, speak
out like a brave lad. A boy of your age should be manly, and if he has
done wrong own to it, and be ready to bear the reproof or punishment he
has earned. Come, let me help you."
"You help me?" he gasped.
"Yes, I think I can. You dined at the mess last night; your face is
flushed and feverish, your head is hot, and your hands wet and cold.
Phoebe tells me that in her sleep she heard you ringing at the bell soon
after five. Is this so?"
"Yes," he said with his eyes and a quick nod of the head.
"Hah! And am I right in saying that you have had scarcely any or no
sleep during the night?"
He nodded again quickly, and felt as if it would be impossible to try
and set his mother right.
"Hah! I am angry with you. I feel that I ought to be. There has been
some escapade. Your father would have watched over you while he was
there. It must have been afterwards--Andrew Forbes and some of the wild
young officers. Yes, I see it now; and I never warned you against such
a peril, though it is real enough, I fear."
"Oh, mother, mother!" groaned the boy in agony.
"I knew it," she said sternly; "they have led you away to some card- or
dice-playing, and you have lost. Now you are fully awake to your
folly."
The boy made a brave effort to speak out, but still no words would come.
"Well," said Lady Gowan, taking his hand to hold it firmly between her
own.
But he was still silent.
"I am angry, and cruelly disappointed in you, Frank," she said sternly.
"But your repentance has been quick, and you have done what is right.
There, I will forgive you, on your solemn promise that you will not
again sin like this. I will give you the money to pay the miserable
debt, and if I have not enough I will get it, even if I have to sell my
diamonds."
She looked at him as it expecting now a burst of repentant thanks; but
he remained speechless, and a feeling of resentment against him rose in
Lady Gowan's breast, as she felt that this was not the return the boy
should have made to her gentle reproof, her offer to free him from his
difficulty, and her eyes flashed upon him angrily.
"Oh, mother!" he cried, "don't look at me like that."
"I must, Frank," she said, loosing his hand, "you are not meeting me in
this matter as you should."
"No, no," he cried, finding his tongue now, and catching her hands in
his, as he sank on his knees before her. "Don't shrink from me, though
it does seem so cruel of me."
"More cruel, my boy, than you think," she said, as she resigned her
hands to him lovingly once more. "Speak out to me, then. It is what I
fear?"
"Oh no, no, mother darling," he groaned. "I must speak now. It is far
worse than that."
"Worse!" she cried, with a startled look in her eyes. "Some quarrel?"
He bowed his head, partly in assent, partly to escape her piercing look.
"And you are no longer a schoolboy--you wear a sword. Oh, Frank, Frank!
you--Andrew Forbes."
He shook his head and bowed it down. Then he raised it firmly and
proudly, and met his mother's eyes gazing wildly at him now, as she
tried to release her hands, but as he held them tightly, pressed them
with her own against her throbbing breast.
"He told me to come to you as a man and break the news."
"He--your father--told you--to break the news. Ah, I see it all. A
quarrel--and they have fought--but he bade you come. Then he lives!"
"Yes, yes, mother dear. He is wounded, but very slightly in the arm."
Lady Gowan uttered a low, piteous cry, and sank upon her knees beside
her son, with her lips moving quickly for some moments, as he supported
her where they knelt together.
"Wounded--dangerously?" she moaned.
"No, no; believe me, mother, slightly in his sword arm. He walked back
with me."
"To his quarters?"
"No. He was arrested."
"Ah!" ejaculated Lady Gowan. "Arrested--why?"
Frank hastily explained.
"Oh the horror of these meetings! But this man, your father struck him?
But why?"
Frank repeated his father's message, and Lady Gowan looked bewildered.
"I cannot understand," she said. "These German officers are favourites
of the King, and the baron must have cruelly insulted your father, or
he, who is so brave and strong and gentle, would never have done this.
They are proud and overbearing, and I know treat our English officers
with contempt. Yes, it must have been from that. When was it?"
"At daybreak."
"Where?"
"Just yonder in the Park."
"And your father took you?" said Lady Gowan, with a look of horror.
"No, no, mother; he did not know I was there till it was just over, and
he told me how it was."
"Yes, I see."
"I was horrified and frightened when Drew came and told me. I could not
keep away."
"No," she said softly, "of course not. I should have gone myself had I
known. But your good, brave father wounded, and the man who insulted
him escaped unhurt!"
"No, no, mother; he is--"
"Frank! Not dead?" she cried in horror, for the boy stopped.
"No, no; but very dangerously wounded. The soldiers carried him back on
a litter, but the doctor says that he will live."
Once more, while she knelt there, Lady Gowan's lips moved as her eyes
closed, and she bent down her head above her son's shoulder.
At last she raised it, and said, firmly:
"We must be brave over this terrible misfortune, Frank dear. But tell
me; do I know the worst?"
"Yes, yes, mother; I meant to keep a great deal back, and I can't look
in your eyes, and say anything that is not perfectly true."
"And never will, my son," she cried, with a wildly hysterical burst of
tears, which she checked in a few moments. "There, your mother is very
weak, you see, dear; but I am going to be strong now. Then that
explains the sternness of the arrest. Let us look the matter in the
face. Your father struck this German nobleman, the guest of the
regiment. They fought this morning, and the cause of the trouble is
badly hurt. The King and the Prince will be furious. They will look
upon it as a mutinous attack upon one of their favourites. Yes, I must
see the Princess at once. I will go to her chamber now; so leave me, my
boy, and wait. I will write to you, and I must try and get a note to
your father. There, go, my own brave boy, and be comforted. The
trouble may not be so great after all, for we have a friend who loves us
both--the Princess, and she will help me in my sore distress. There,
go, my boy; she must have the news from me, as your father contrived
that it should come to me. I can go to her chamber at any time, for she
has told me again and again that she looks upon me as her dearest
friend."
The next minute Frank was crossing the quadrangle on his way back,
feeling relieved of much of his burden; but before he reached the
quarters occupied by the royal pages, Andrew Forbes stood before him.
"At last!" he said. "I've been waiting here ever since. How does she
take it?"
"Bravely," said Frank, with a proud look. "She has just gone in to tell
the Princess."
"And she will get Sir Robert out of the scrape if she can. But it won't
do, Frank," said Andrew, shaking his head. "She'll be very kind to your
mother, but you may as well know the worst. She can't; for his Majesty
will have something to say about his baron. Your father might as well
have hit the King himself."