Chapter 86
"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 hoa.r.s.e 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 a.s.surance 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
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 a.s.sisted 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 pa.s.sionately. "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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Frank, who was trembling in every limb.