“Andrew Forbes.”
“Not to speak of whatever it is?”
“Yes, father.”
Sir Robert Gowan sat looking stern and silent for a few moments as if thinking deeply.
“Frank boy,” he said at last. “I am a man of some experience; you are a mere boy fresh from a country school, and now holding a post which may expose you to many temptations. I, then, as your father, whose desire is to watch over you and help you to grow into a brave and good man, hold that it would not be dishonourable for you to confide in me in every way. It can be no dishonour for you to trust me.”
“Then I will tell you, father;” and the boy hastily laid bare his breast, telling of his adventures with Andrew Forbes, and how great a source of anxiety they had proved to be.
“Hah!” said Sir Robert, after sitting with knitted brows looking curiously at his son and hearing him to the end. “Well, I am very glad that you have spoken, my boy, and I think it will be right for you to stand your ground, and be ready to laugh at Master Andrew and his political associations. It is what people call disloyal and treasonable on one side; on the other, it is considered noble and right. But you need not trouble your head about that. Andrew Forbes is after all a mere boy, very enthusiastic, and led away perhaps by thoughts of the Prince living in exile instead of sitting on the throne of England. But you don’t want to touch politics for the next ten years. It would be better for many if they never touched them at all. There, I am glad you have told me.”
“So am I now, father. But you will not speak about it all, so as to get Drew in disgrace?”
“I give you my word I will not, Frank. Oh, nonsense! It is froth—fluff; a chivalrous boy’s fancy and sympathy for one he thinks is oppressed. No, Frank, no words of mine will do Drew Forbes any harm; but as for you—”
“Yes, father.”