“Oh, come, come, Murray,” cried the doctor reproachfully; “don’t talk so to the boy. He’s speaking the truth, I’ll vouch for it. Afraid? Rob Gowan’s boy afraid? Pooh! he’s made of the wrong sort of stuff.”
“Yes, sir,” cried the boy, in a voice hoarse with emotion, “I was afraid,—not last night, for I did not know he was going; but when he begged and prayed of me to run away with him, and join the people rising for the Pretender, I was afraid to go and disgrace my mother and father—and myself.”
“Well done! well said, Frank, my lad!” cried the doctor, taking him by one hand to begin patting him on the back. “That’s a knock down for you, Murray. Now, sir, you’ve got to apologise to our young friend here—beg his pardon like a man.”
“If I have misjudged him, I beg his pardon humbly—like a man,” said Captain Murray coldly. “I hope I have; but I cannot help thinking that he must have been aware of his companion’s flight. Mr Gowan, your parole is at an end, sir. You will keep closely to these rooms.”
“Bah!” cried the doctor; “why don’t you say you are going to have him locked up in the black hole. Murray, I’m ashamed of you. It’s bile, sir, bile, and I must give you a dose.”
“I am going now, doctor,” said the captain coldly.
“Which means I am to come away, if I don’t want to be locked up too. Very well, I have nothing to do here. There, shake hands, Frank. Don’t you mind all this. He believes this now; but he’ll soon see that he is wrong, and come back and shake hands. Your father knew how to choose his friends when he chose Captain Murray. He’s angry, and, more than that, he’s hurt, because he thinks you have deceived him; but you have not, my lad. Doctors can see much farther into a fellow than a soldier can, and both of your windows are as wide-open and clear as crystal. There, it will be all right.”
He gave the boy’s shoulder a good, warm, friendly grip, and followed the captain out of the room. The door was locked, some orders were given to the sentry, Frank heard the descending steps, and after standing gazing hard at the closed door for some minutes he dropped into the chair by the table, the one in which he had had such a struggle to keep awake. Then he placed his arms before him, and let his head go down upon them, feeling hot, bitter, and indignant against Captain Murray, and as if he were the most unhappy personage in the whole world.
A quarter of an hour must have passed before he started up again with a proud look in his eyes.
“Let him—let everybody think so if they like,” he said aloud. “I don’t care. She’ll believe me, I know she will. Oh! if I could only go to her and tell her; but I can’t. No,” he cried, in an exultant tone; “she knows me better and I know she’ll come to me.”