“Ah!—I’ll slip back to where you are and shake hands now,” cried the boy excitedly.
“No, no; pray don’t move. It’s too risky; I don’t want to be caught. I must be with those who are going to rescue my father and yours to-morrow.—Think that you are shaking hands with me. Now, there’s my hand, old lad. That’s right. Yes, I can believe we have hold again. Perhaps I shall never see you again, Franky; perhaps I shall be taken. If I am, please think that I always looked upon you as a brother, and upon Lady Gowan as if I were her son.”
“Yes, Drew, yes, Drew,” whispered Frank in a choking voice, as he bent over his open book.
“Give my love to dear Lady Gowan, and tell her how I feel for her in her great trouble.”
“Yes, yes, I will,” whispered Frank, as he shaded away vigorously at his sketch, but making some curious hatchings.
“Tell her that there’ll be a hundred good, true men making an effort to save Sir Robert to-morrow, and we’ll do it. I’d like you to come and help, but you mustn’t. It would be too mad.”
“No. I’ll come,” whispered the boy excitedly.
“No, you will not come,” said Drew. “You can’t, for you don’t know when and where it will be.”
“Then tell me,” whispered Frank, with his face very close to his paper.
“I’d die first, old lad,” came back. “Lady Gowan has suffered enough from what has happened. She shan’t have another trouble through me. I tried to get you away; but I’m sorry now, for her sake. You stop and take care of her. Your father said—”