“She has heard of the disaster, then?”
“Yes. The Princess went and broke it to her as gently as she could.”
“And she told you?”
“Yes; she sent for me as soon as she heard.”
“Poor lady!” said the captain.
“Amen to that,” said the doctor huskily; and he pulled out his snuff-box, and took three pinches in succession, making himself sneeze violently as an excuse for taking out his great red-and-yellow silk handkerchief and using it to a great extent.
“Hah!” he said at last, as he looked across at Frank, with his eyes quite wet; “and poor old Robert Gowan! Rebel, they call him; but we here, Frank, can only look upon him more as brother than friend.”
“But,” cried the boy passionately, “there is hope for him yet. He is not taken, in spite of what my mother said. He would have escaped to the coast, and made again for France.”
“What did your mother say?” asked Captain Murray, looking at the boy fixedly.
“My mother say? That my father would never forsake the men whom he was leading to victory or death.”