“I shall not be left,” she said firmly. “Quick, Frank. You are increasing my agony every moment that you stay. Oh, my boy, pray, pray go, and then come back and tell me that you have seen him. Go. Take no refusal; fight for a position near him if you cannot get there by praying, and tell him how we are suffering for his sake—how we love him, and are striving to save him. Oh, and I keep you while I am talking, and he must be very near! Quick! Kiss me once and go, and I will lie here and pray that you may succeed.”
“You wish it—you command me to go, mother?” he panted.
“Yes, yes, my boy,” she cried eagerly; and he bent down over her, pressed his lips to hers, and darted to the door.
“Nurse, nurse!” he said hoarsely, “come and stay with my mother.” Then to himself as he rushed down the stairs: “Too late—too late! He must have gone.”
Chapter Forty.
On the Great North Road.
The heavy, leaden feeling of despair and disappointment increased as Frank Gowan ran across the courtyard, feeling that it was useless to expect to find Captain Murray, but making for his quarters in the faint hope that he might have been detained, and cudgelling his brains as he ran, to try and find a means of learning the route that the escort would take, so that he might even then try and intercept the prisoners’ carriages.
But no idea, not the faintest gleam of a way out of his difficulty helped him; and he felt ready to fling himself down in his misery and despair, as he reached the officers’ quarters.