In Honour's Cause Part 19

A few minutes later one of the servants brought in a note and handed it to Frank, who opened it eagerly.

"No answer," he said to the man; and then he turned to his companion.

"Read," he said. "From my father."

"'Come and dine at the mess this evening, and bring Andrew Forbes,'"

read the lad, and he flushed with pleasure.

"Of course you will not come," said Frank mockingly. "You could not be comfortable with such a loyal party."

"With such a host as Captain Sir Robert Gowan!" cried Andrew. "Oh yes, I could. I like him." He smiled rather meaningly, and then the conversation turned upon the treat to come, both lads being enthusiastic about everything connected with the military.

This was broken into by the same servant entering with another note.

"My turn now, Frank," said Andrew merrily; "but who's going to write to me?"

To his annoyance, as he turned to take the note, the man handed it to Frank and left the antechamber.

"Well, you seem to be somebody," cried Andrew, who now looked nettled.

"From my mother," said Frank, after glancing through the missive.

"Lucky you; mother and father both here. My poor father nowhere, hiding about like a thief. Talk about friends at court!"

"It does seem hard for you," said Frank. "See what she says."

"H'm! 'So sorry not to be able to speak to you yesterday. Come to my rooms for an hour before the reception this afternoon. I long to see you, my dear boy.'"

Andrew handed back the letter with a sigh.

"Lucky you, Frank. I say, don't repeat what I said about yesterday."

"Of course not."

"That's right. Men talk about things when they are alone which would frighten ladies. She might get thinking that I should get up a quarrel with that Steinberg."

"I'm sure my mother wouldn't think anything of the sort," said Frank, smiling at his friend's conceit.

"Oh, I don't know," said Andrew importantly. "Yes I do, though. It was a rather stupid remark. But I wish I were you, Frank," he continued, with a genuine unspoiled boyish light coming into his eyes, which looked wistful and longing. "Perhaps, if I had a mother and father here in the court, I should be as loyal as you are."

"Of course you would be. Well, they like you. You're coming to dine with my father to-night, and I wish I could take you with me to see my mother early this afternoon."

"Do you--do you really, Frank?" cried the lad eagerly.

"Of course I do; you know I always say what I mean."

"Then thank you," cried the lad warmly; "that's almost as good as going."

"I'll ask her to invite you next time. Hallo! where are you off to?"

"Only to my room for a bit."

"What for? Anything the matter?"

"Matter? Pish! Well, yes. I'm thinking I'd better be off, for fear, instead of my converting you, you'll be taking advantage of my weakness, offering me a share in Sir Robert and Lady Gowan for a bribe, and converting me."

"I wish I could," said Frank to himself, as his companion hurried out of the room. "Why not? Suppose I were to take my mother into my confidence, and ask her to try and win him away from what is sure to end in a great trouble!"

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE TROUBLE GROWS.

Frank was thinking in this strain when he went to his mother's rooms in the Palace soon after, and her maid showed him at once to where she was sitting reading, having dressed for the Princess's reception in good time, so as to be free to receive her son.

"Oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the maid, as she was just about to leave the room; and there was a look of dismay in her countenance.

"What is it?" cried Lady Gowan, turning sharply with her son clasped in her arms.

"Your dress, my lady--the lace. It will be crushed flat."

"Oh," said Lady Gowan, with a merry laugh, "never mind that. Come in an hour and set all straight again."

"Yes, my lady," said the maid; and mother and son were left alone.

"As if we cared for satins and laces, Frank darling, at a time like this. My own dear boy," she whispered, as she kissed him again and again, holding his face between her white hands and gazing at him proudly. "There, I'm crushing your curls."

"Go on," said Frank; "crush away. You can brush them for me before I go--like you used to when I was home for the holidays."

"In the dear old times, Frank darling," cried Lady Gowan, "when we did not have to look at each other from a distance. But never mind; we shall soon go down into the country for a month or two, away from this weary, formal court, and then we'll have a happy time."

Frank gazed proudly at his mother again and again during that little happy interview, which seemed all sunshine as he looked back upon it from among the clouds of the troubles which so soon came; and he thought how young and girlish and beautiful she appeared. "The most beautiful lady at the court," he told himself, "as well as the sweetest and the best."

Time after time the words he wished to speak rose to his lips, for the longing to make her his confidante over the Jacobite difficulty was intense. But somehow at the critical moments he either shrank from fear of causing her trouble and anxiety, or else felt that he ought not to run the risk of bringing Andrew into trouble after what had pa.s.sed. He knew that Lady Gowan would not injure the mistaken lad; but still there was the risk of danger following. Besides, he had to some extent confided in his father, and would probably say more; so that if it was right that Lady Gowan should know, his father would speak.

She gave him very little chance for making confidences till just at the end of the hour she had set apart for him, when the maid appeared to repair the disorder which she alone could see, but was dismissed at once.

"Another ten minutes by the clock, and then Mr Frank will be going."

The maid withdrew.

"Oh, how time flies, my darling!" said the lady. "And I had so many more things to say to you, so much advice to give to my dearest boy.

But I am proud to have you here, Frank. Your father's so much away from me, that it is nice to feel that I have my big, brave son to protect me."

Frank coloured, and thought of his companion's words.

"It reconciles me more to being here, my boy," she continued; "for you see it means your advancement as well. But these are very anxious, troublous times for both your father and me. And you are going to dine with him at the mess this evening. Well, you are very young, and I want to keep you still a boy; but, heigh-ho! you are growing fast, and will soon be a man. So be careful and grow into the brave, honourable, loyal gentleman I wish you to be."

"I will try so hard," he said eagerly; and once more he longed to speak out, but she gave him no time, though at the last moment he would hardly have spoken. As it was, he stood feeling as if he were very guilty while she held his hand.