“Mother,” he said softly, as he bent over her.
Lady Gowan sprang up at once; but instead of holding out her arms to him as he was about to drop on his knees before her, her wet eyes flashed angrily, and she spoke in a voice full of bitter reproach.
“I have just heard from the Princess that my son, whom I trusted in these troublous times to be my stay and help, has been brawling disgracefully during his duties at the court.”
“Brawling disgracefully” made the boy wince, and a curious, stubborn look began to cloud his face.
“Her Royal Highness tells me that you actually so far forgot yourself as to draw upon young Forbes, that you were half mad with passion, and that some terrible mischief would have happened if the Prince, who heard the clashing from his room of audience, had not rushed in, and at great risk to himself beaten down the swords. That is what I have been told, and that you are both placed under arrest. Is it all true?”
“Yes, mother,” said the lad bluntly; and he set his teeth for the encounter that was to come.
“Is this the conduct I ought to expect from my son, after all my care and teaching—to let his lowest passions get the better of him, so that, but for the interference of the Prince, he might have stained his sword with the blood of the youth he calls his friend?”
“It might have been the other way, mother,” said the boy bluntly.
“Yes; and had you so little love, so little respect for your mother’s feelings, that you could risk such a thing? I have been prostrated enough by what has happened. Suppose, instead, the news had been brought to me that in a senseless brawl my son had been badly wounded—or slain?”
“Senseless brawl” made the boy wince again.