In Honour's Cause Part 16

CHAPTER NINE.

FRANK HAS A BAD NIGHT.

"I wish I had a better head," sighed Frank, as he lay in bed that night; "it seems to get thicker and thicker, and as if every time I tried to think out what is the best thing to do it got everything in a knot."

He turned over, and lay hot and uncomfortable for a few minutes, and then perhaps for the hundredth time he turned over again, found his pillow comfortless, and jumped up into a sitting position, to punch and bang it about for some minutes, before returning it to its place, lying down, and finding it as bad as ever.

"It's of no use," he groaned; "I shall never get a wink of sleep to-night. I wish I could get up and dress, and go for a walk out there in the cool by the side of the water; but as soon as I got outside I should be challenged by the guard. I don't know the pa.s.sword, and I should be arrested and marched off to the guardroom. Even if I could get down there by the ca.n.a.l, I should feel no better, for I should be thinking of nothing else but feeding the ducks."

This thought made him twist and writhe in the bed to such an extent that the clothes refused to submit to the rough treatment, and glided off to seek peace and quietness upon the floor. The pleasant coolness was gratifying for a few minutes; but the boy's love of order put an end to his lying uncovered, and he sprang out of bed, dragged the truant clothing back, remade his bed extremely badly, and once more lay down.

The occupation relieved him for a while, and he began to hope that he would go to sleep; but the very fact of his endeavouring to lose consciousness made him more wakeful, and he lay with wide-open eyes, going over the events of the evening, till he got into a pa.s.sion with Andrew Forbes, with Mr George Selby, and most of all with himself.

"How could I be such an idiot as to go? I ought to have known better.

I might have been sure, after what I had seen, that there was something wrong. But then," he groaned, "I did fancy something was wrong, and I went to try and keep Drew out of mischief. Oh, what an unlucky fellow I am!

"It's of no use," was his next thought. "I shall never do any good here, only keep on getting into trouble. Why, if this were to be known, it would bring disgrace on my father and mother, and they would have to leave court--father would perhaps lose his commission."

He sprang up again in horror at the very thought of this, drew up his knees, and pa.s.sed his arms round them, to sit for long enough packed up with his chin upon his knees somewhat after the fashion of a Peruvian mummy.

"It's horrible," he groaned to himself--"horrible, that's what it is.

And this is being what mother calls a good son. They'll be nice and proud of me when they know.

"Ah-h-h-ah! There goes that wretched old clock over the gateway again!

It can't be five minutes since it chimed before. It seems to have been chiming ever since I came to bed. What time is it, I wonder? Bah!

three-quarters past. Three-quarters past what? Oh dear, how thirsty I am! and I've had three gla.s.ses of water since I came to bed. Going to feed the ducks! Oh, I wish I'd said I'd go out and fight with Drew, and pinked him as he calls it. He wouldn't have been able to lead me into this sc.r.a.pe. But more likely he would have pinked me. Well, and a precious good thing too. It would have been all right, and I couldn't then have gone.

"Phew! how hot it is. My skin seems to p.r.i.c.kle and tingle, as if somebody had been playing tricks with the bed; and all this time I believe that miserable dandy Drew is snoring away, and not troubling a bit. There, if it isn't chiming again! It can't be a quarter of an hour since I heard it last. Ting, tang. Last quarter. Well, go on; four quarters, and then strike, and I shall know what time it is. What!

A quarter past? Well, a quarter past what? Oh, that clock's wrong.

It chimed three-quarters just now. It can't have chimed the four quarters since, and struck the hour; it's impossible. I'm sure it must be wrong."

He threw himself down again in despair, feeling as if sleep were farther off than ever.

"Oh dear!" he moaned; "Drew told me I seemed a year older after that row. I feel another year older since then; and if it goes on like this, I shall be like an old man by morning. But there, I'm not going to give up in this cowardly way. I'll show Master Drew that I'm not such a boy as he thinks for. It's all nonsense! Just because I went and dined there with him and his friend, and was then led into standing up with them and joining hands, I'm to be considered as having joined them, and become a Jacobite! Why, it's childish; and as to his threats of what they would do if I ran back, I don't care, I won't believe it. I'm not such a baby. Death indeed! I've only just begun to live.

"Ugh! it was very ugly, very shocking to see those heads stuck up there over Temple Bar; and yet Drew took it as coolly as could be. Why, it was he who ought to have been frightened, not I. And I'm not frightened--I won't be frightened. I won't say anything; but I'm not going there again. No, I won't speak--unless they do threaten me. Then I must tell all. But only wait till morning, and I'll have it out with Master Drew. Not quite so much of a schoolboy as he thinks me.

"There'll be no sleep for me to-night," he said at last, in a resigned way. "Well, it's perhaps so much the better. I have been able to think out what I mean to do, and now I'll just try and arrange what I shall say to Drew in the morning; and, after that, I'll get up and dress, and have a long read. I do wonder, though, what time it is."

He then lay wondering and waiting for the clock to chime again, but he did not hear it chime its next quarter, for now that he had made up his mind not to go to sleep, sleep came to him with one of those sudden seizures which drop us in an instant into the oblivion which gives rest and refreshment to the wearied body and brain.

Then, all at once, as he lay with his eyes closed, he did hear it plainly.

"Ah, at last!" he cried,--"first quarter, second quarter, third quarter, fourth quarter. Now, then, I shall know what time it is."

The clock struck, and he counted--nine.

Then he listened for more, opened his eyes, and stared in amazement at the light streaming through the shuttered windows, and leaped out of bed.

"Why," he cried, "it's breakfast-time! I must have been asleep after all."

Then he stood looking back into yesterday, for the evening's proceedings came to him with a flash.

"A Jacobite!" he said aloud; "and those heads upon the top of the gate!"

CHAPTER TEN.

IN THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA.

It was a bright morning; but now it seemed to Frank Gowan that the world had suddenly turned back. Andrew Forbes met him in the most friendly way after breakfast. He was almost affectionate in his greeting.

"Didn't dream about the traitors' heads on Temple Bar, did you?"

"No," said Frank coldly. "I lay awake and thought about them."

"Ugh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Andrew, with a shudder. "What gruesome things to take to bed with you. I didn't; I was so tired that I went off directly and slept like a top."

Frank looked at him in disgust.

"Hallo! what's the matter?" cried his fellow-page. "Not well?"

"I was wondering whether you had any conscience."

"I say, hark at the serious old man!" cried Andrew merrily. "Whatever made you ask that?"

"Because it seemed impossible you could have one, to treat it all so lightly after taking me there last night."

"I don't see how you can call it that. You were invited, and you went with me."

"That's a contemptible piece of shuffling," cried Frank.

Andrew flushed up and frowned.

"Pooh!" he said, laughing it off. "You are tired and cross this morning. What a fellow you are for wanting to quarrel! But we can't do that, now we're brethren."

"No, we are not," said Frank hotly. "I'll have nothing to do with the miserable business."

"Colt kicking on first feeling his harness," said Andrew merrily.

"Never mind, Frank; you'll soon get used to it."

"Never."

"And it's a grand harness to wear. I say, what's the good of making a fuss about it? You'll thank me one of these days."

"Then you have no conscience," cried Frank sternly.