Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First > This page
In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 45. Captain Murray's News |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. CAPTAIN MURRAY'S NEWS The walk in the cool air beneath the trees seemed to have the opposite effect to that intended, for the boy's head was burning, and his busy imagination kept on forming pictures of what had passed and was passing then. He saw his mother get out of the carriage at their own door, that weak, sorrow-bent form in black, and enter, the carriage waiting for her return. He followed her up the broad staircase into the half-darkened drawing-room, where Drew was waiting to give her the important message from his father. "Yes," thought the boy; "it will be a letter of instructions what he is to 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 and leave the house again, enter the carriage, the steps were rattled up, the door closed, and he followed it in imagination along the crowded streets to the dismal front of Newgate, where, with vivid clearness, he saw her enter the gloomy door and disappear. "I can't bear it," he groaned, as he threw himself on the grass; "I can't bear it. I feel as if I shall go mad." At last the hot, beating sensation in his head grew less painful, for the vivid pictures had ceased to form themselves as he mentally saw his mother enter the prison, and in a dull, heavy, despairing fashion he reclined there, waiting until fully two hours should have passed away before he attempted to return to his mother's apartment to await her return. The time went slowly now, and he lay thinking of the meeting that must be taking place, till, feeling that if he lay longer there he should excite attention, he rose and walked slowly on, meaning to go right round the Park, carrying out his original intention of trying to grow calm. He went slowly on, so as to pass the time, for he felt that it would be unbearable to go back to his mother's room, and perhaps have the nurse and maid fidgeting in and out. The result was that he almost crept along thinking, but in a different strain, for there were no more vivid pictures, his brain from the reaction seeming drowsy and sluggish. Half unconscious now of the progress of time, he sauntered on till the sight of the back of their house 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 the chain put up, and as it was opened saw the old housekeeper peering out suspiciously. The next minute he was in the hall, with the old woman looking at him anxiously. "Did my mother come?" he said hoarsely. "Poor dear lady! Yes, my dear, looking so bent and strange she could hardly speak to me; and when she lifted her veil I was shocked to see how 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 an hour before she came down. She did not ring first; but I saw her from the window almost tottering, and leaning on the footman's arm. He had quite to help her into the carriage. Oh, my dear, is all this trouble never to have an end?" "Don't talk to me, Berry; but please go down. I am going up to see my friend. He is in the drawing-room, I suppose?" "Oh yes, my dear. He has been in and out when I have not known, and I heard him talking to himself last night. Poor young man! he seems in trouble too." "Yes, yes. Go down now," said Frank hastily; and as the old woman descended, he sprang up the stairs, and turned the handle of the drawing-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 with surprise; for Lady Gowan, looking ghastly white, stood before him, without bonnet or cloak. "Well?" she cried; "tell me quick!" and her voice sounded hoarse and strange. "You here!" stammered Frank. "Oh, I see. Oh, mother, mother, and you have been too ill to go." "No, no. Don't question me," she said wildly. "I can't bear it. Only tell me, boy--the truth--the truth!" "You are ill," he cried. "Here, let me help you to the couch. Lie down, 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 he knew nothing, and grasped from her incoherent explanations that, when she had reached the house two hours before, she had come up to the drawing-room and found Drew impatiently waiting there. He had then given her his father's message of hope for his dear friend's safety, and his assurance that a couple of thousand friends would save him. Moreover, the lad unfolded the plan they had made. It was simple enough, and possible from its daring, for at the sight of the 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 with the royal mandate, leave him to complete the disguise by means of false hair, and thus play the part of the heart-broken, weeping wife. Thus disguised, he was to go down to the carriage, be helped in, and driven to the prison. There he was to stay the full time, and in the interval to exchange dresses with the prisoner, who, cloaked and veiled, bent with suffering and grief, was to present himself at the door when the steps of the gaolers were heard, and suffer himself to be assisted back to the carriage and driven off. "Yes, but then--then--" cried Frank wildly. "Oh, it is madness; it could not succeed!" "Don't, don't say that, my boy," wailed Lady Gowan. "I must, mother, I must," cried the boy passionately. "Why did he not confide in me? I could have told him what I dared not tell you." "Yes, yes, what?" cried Lady Gowan. "Tell me now. I can--I will bear it." "My poor father was fettered hand and foot. It was impossible for him to escape." There was a painful silence, which was broken at last by Lady Gowan, who laid her hands with a deprecating gesture upon her son's breast. "Don't blame me, Frank," she whispered. "I was in despair. I snatched at the proposal, thinking it might do some good, when my heart was yearning to be at your father's side. You cannot think what I suffered." "Blame you?" cried Frank. "Oh, how could I, mother? But I must leave you 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 gaolers and 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 tell me the worst. Remember that I am in an agony of suspense that is killing me." Frank hurried out, feeling as if it was all some terrible dream, and on reaching the street he directed his steps east, to make his way to the great prison. But he turned back before he had gone many yards. "No," he thought; "everything must be over there, and I could not get any news. They would not listen to me." He walked hurriedly along, turning into the Park, and another idea came to him: the royal stables, he would go and see if the carriage had returned. If it had, he could learn from the servants all that had occurred. He broke into a run, and was three parts of the way back to the stable-yard, seeing nothing before him, when his progress was checked by a 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 hand grasped his arm. "Stop!" he cried. "I cannot run after you; I'll walk fast. My side is bad." "Don't stop me," cried Frank piteously. "I must, boy. It is madness to be running about like this. Don't bring suspicion upon you, and get yourself arrested--and separated from your mother when she wants you most." "Hah!" ejaculated Frank; and he fell into step with his father's old comrade. "I will not ask you where you are going; but I suppose in search of your mother." "Yes; she is at home." "What? My poor boy! No. The news is now running through the Palace like 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, she was 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 the shortest cuts, so as to avoid the main thoroughfares, when in one of the quiet streets by Soho three horsemen stopped the way, and seized the reins as the coachman drew up to avoid an accident. A carriage which had been following came up, and half a dozen men sprang from it--one from the box, two from behind, and the rest from inside. The footmen were hustled away, and threatened with drawn swords by four of the attacking 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 in disguise who sprang out and then into the other carriage, which was driven off, all taking place quickly and before any alarm could be given. The startled men then came on to state what had occurred; but almost at the same time the tidings came from the prison that Lady Gowan remained behind, and that it was Sir Robert whom they had helped away." "Oh!" groaned Frank, giddy with excitement. "Come faster, or I must run. 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 you suppose they would admit you to the prison now?" "Prison!" cried Frank wildly. "Did I not tell you that she was close here--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 all a miserable concoction, Frank. He has not escaped." "Yes, yes," cried the lad wildly. "You don't understand. It was Drew Forbes 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 face white from agony and his hand pressed upon his side. "Run," he whispered; "I am crippled. I can go no farther. Tell her at once. 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 his mother kneeling by the couch in the darkened room, her face buried in her hands. But she heard his step, and sprang up, her face so ghastly that it frightened him as he shouted aloud: "Safe, mother!--escaped!" "Ah!" she cried, in a low, deep sigh full of thankfulness; and she fell upon her knees with her hands clasped together and her head bent low upon her breast, just as the clouds that had been hanging heavily all the day opened out; and where the shutters were partly thrown back a broad band of golden light shot into the room and bathed the kneeling figure 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--of what was to happen next, and what would be their punishment and that of the brave, high-spirited lad who was now a prisoner--that Berry tapped softly at the door. "A letter, my lady," she said, "for Master Frank;" and as she came timidly forward, the old woman's eyes looked red and swollen with weeping. "For me, Berry?" cried Frank wonderingly. "Why, nurse, you've been crying." "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!" he cried 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 when all's over, and dear old Sir Robert is safe away. Tell my dear Lady Gowan I'm doing this as I would have done it for my own mother, and did not tell you because you're such a jealous old chap, and would have wanted to go yourself. I say, don't tell her this. I don't believe they'll do anything to me, because they'll look upon me as a boy, and I'm reckoning upon its being the grandest piece of fun I ever had. If they do chop me short off, I leave you my curse if you don't take down my head off the spike they'll stick it on, at the top of Temple Bar, out of spite because they could not get Sir Robert's. Good-bye, old usurper worshipper. I can't help liking you, all the same. Try and get my sword, and wear it for the sake of crack-brained Drew." "Poor old Drew!" groaned Frank, in a broken voice. "Oh, mother, I was not to let you see all this." "Not see it?" said Lady Gowan softly; and her tears fell fast upon the letter, as she pressed it to her lips. "Yes, Frank, you would have done the same. But no; they will not--they dare not punish him. The whole nation would rise against those who took vengeance upon the brave act of the gallant boy." That evening the problem of their future was partly solved by another letter brought by hand from the Palace. It was from the Princess, and very brief: "I cannot blame you for what you have done, for my heart has been with you through all your trouble. At present you and your son must remain away. Some day I hope we shall meet again. "Always your friend." _ |
||