“Back to prison?” he said. “But tell me first that you are not so angry with me. I can’t feel that I was so wrong.”
“No, no, my boy—no, I cannot blame you,” sighed Lady Gowan.
“And you forgive me, mother?”
“Forgive you? Oh, my own, true, brave lad, it is not your fault, but that of these terrible times. Go now, I can bear no more.”
“Say that once again,” whispered Frank, clinging to her.
“I cannot speak, my darling. I am suffering more than I can tell you. There, leave me, dearest. I want to be alone, to think and pray for help in this terrible time of affliction. Frank, I am nearly broken-hearted.”
“And I have been the cause,” he said sadly.
“You? Oh no, no, my own, brave, true boy. I never felt prouder of you than I do now. Go back. I must think. Then I will see the Princess. The Prince is not so very angry with you, and he will forgive you when he knows the truth.”
“And you, mother?”
“I?” cried the poor woman passionately. “Heaven help me! I do not feel that I have anything to forgive.”