Chapter Thirty Two.
A Big Wigging.
“I won’t show that I mind,” thought Frank; and in a matter-of-fact way he went into the bedroom, and made quite a spiteful use of the captain’s dressing table and washstand, removing all traces of having passed the night in his clothes, and he had just ended and changed his shoes, which had been brought there, when the outer door was unlocked, and the captain’s servant came in to tidy up the place.
The servant was ready to talk; but Frank was in no talking humour, and went and stood looking out of the window till the man had gone, when the boy came away, and began to imitate Andrew Forbes’s caged-animal-like walk up and down the room, in which health-giving exercise to a prisoner he was still occupied when there were more steps below—the tramp of soldiers, the guard was changed, and Frank felt a strong desire to look out of the window to see if another sentry was placed there; but he felt too proud. It would be weak and boyish, he thought; so he began walking up and down again, till once more the door was unlocked, and the captain’s servant entered, bearing a breakfast tray, and left again.
“Just as if I could eat breakfast after going through all this!” he said sadly. “I’m sure I can’t eat a bit.” But after a few minutes, when he tried, he found that he could, and became so absorbed in the meal and his thoughts that he blushed like a girl with shame to see what a clearance he had made.
The tray was fetched away, and the morning passed slowly in the expectation that Lady Gowan would come; but midday had arrived without so much as a message, and Frank’s heart was sinking again, when he once more heard steps, and upon the door being opened, Captain Murray appeared.
“He has come to say he believes me,” thought the boy, as his heart leapt; but it sank again upon his meeting his visitor’s eyes, for the captain looked more stern and cold than ever, and his manner communicated itself to the boy.
“You will come with me, Gowan,” said the captain sternly.