Chapter 18. The Doctor Makes A Suggestion And Frank Is Startled

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_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THE DOCTOR MAKES A SUGGESTION AND FRANK IS STARTLED

"Your mother must be a favourite with the Princess, and no mistake," said Andrew one morning, "or after that business of your father's you would never be allowed to stay."

"If you come to that," said Frank in retort, "if one half of what I know about were to get abroad, where would you be?"

"Perhaps in two pieces, with the top bit carefully preserved, as a warning to treasonable people--so called."

"I don't think that," said Frank gravely; "for they would not go to such lengths with a mere boy."

"Who are you calling a mere boy?"

"You," replied Frank coolly. "You are quite as young as I am in some things, though you are so much older in others."

"Perhaps so," said Andrew rather haughtily. "Anyhow, I don't feel in the least afraid of my principles being known. You can't tell tales, being one of us."

"I--am--not--and--never--will--be!" said Frank, dividing his words as if there were a comma between each pair, and speaking with tremendous emphasis.

"Oh, all right," said Andrew, with a merry laugh. "I should like to hear you say that to Mr George Selby."

"I'd say it plainly to him and the whole of the members of his club," said Frank hotly.

"Not you. Wouldn't dare. Come with me on Friday and say it."

"I? No. Let them come to me if they want it said."

"They don't. They've got you, and they'll keep you."

"Time will prove that, Drew. I'm very glad, though, that you have given up going."

"Given up what?"

"Going to those dangerous meetings; and, I say, give up being so fond of staring at yourself in the glass. I never did see such a vain coxcomb of a fellow."

"H-r-r-ur!" growled Andrew, as he swung round fiercely upon his fellow-page. "Oh, if I had not made up my mind that I wouldn't quarrel with a brother! Ah! you may laugh; but you'll repent it one of these days."

The lad clenched his fist as he spoke; but he was met by such a good-tempered smile that he turned away again more angry than ever.

"I can't hit you--I won't hit you!" he gasped.

"I know that," cried Frank. "You can't hit a fellow who is fighting hard to make you sensible. I say, who is this Mr George Selby?"

"Never you mind."

"But I do mind. I want to know."

"Well, a great friend of him over the water."

"How came you to get acquainted with him first?"

"You wait, and you'll know."

"Don't tell me without you like; but he's a dangerous friend, and I'm very glad you've given up seeing him."

"Are you?" said Andrew, with a curious smile. "Why, I've seen him again and again."

"You have!" cried Frank, in astonishment. "When?"

"Oh, at different times. Last evening, for instance, in the Park, while you were with your mother. He came to feed the ducks."

"You won't be happy till you are sent away in disgrace."

"That's very true, Franky; but I don't think I shall feel the disgrace. What would you say, too, if I told you that I have been three times to the city?"

"Impossible!"

"Oh no; these things are not impossible to one who wants to do them."

"Oh, Drew, Drew!" cried Frank.

"There, don't you pity me. You are the one to be pitied."

"I say, hadn't we better talk about something else?"

"Yes. Has Lady Gowan heard from Sir Robert?"

Frank shook his head gloomily.

"What, not written yet?"

"No."

"Then they're stopping his letters!" cried Andrew.

Frank started violently.

"That's it. Just the mean thing that these people would do. I'm sure your father would not have let all this time pass without sending news."

"Oh, they would not do that!" cried Frank. "He is waiting till he is settled down, and then we shall go and join him."

"You will not," said Andrew. "They'll keep you both here, as you'll see. But, I say, hadn't we better talk about something else?"

"If you like," said Frank coldly.

"Well, then, I haven't heard, for I haven't seen Captain Murray or the doctor. What news have you heard of Steinberg?"

"He's getting better, and going home to Hanover as soon as he can bear to travel."

"That's good news," cried Andrew. "I wish he'd take the King and his court with him."

Frank gave him an angry look, then a sharp glance round to see if his companion's words had been heard, and the latter burst out laughing.

"Poor old Frank!" he said merrily. "There, I won't tease you by saying all these disloyal things. But, I say, your acts give the lie to your words. You're as true to us as steel. Come, don't be cross."

This sort of skirmishing went on often enough, for the two lads were always at work trying to undermine each other's principles; but they dropped into the habit of leaving off at the right time, so as to avoid quarrelling, and the days glided on in the regular routine of the court. But a great change had taken place in one who so short a time before was a mere schoolboy, and Lady Gowan could not help remarking it in the rather rare occasions when she had her son alone, and talked to him and made him the repository of her troubles.

"I could not bear all this, Frank," she said one day, "if it were not for the Princess's kindness. Some day we shall have your father forgiven, and he will be back."

"But some day is so long coming, mother. Why don't we go to him?"

"Because he wishes us to stay here, and he will not expose me to the miseries and uncertainties of the life he is leading."

"But we would not mind," cried Frank.

"No, we would not mind; but we must do that which he wishes, my dear."

This was three months after Sir Robert's enforced departure from the court, and when Andrew Forbes's words respecting the communications sent by Sir Robert being stopped had long proved to be unjust.

"Is he still in France?" asked Frank.

"Yes, still there," said Lady Gowan, with a sigh.

"And we can't join him. Don't you think, if you tried again, the Princess might succeed in getting him recalled?"

"I have tried till I dare try no more, for fear of disgusting one who has proved herself my great friend by my importunity. We must be content with knowing that some day your father will be recalled, and then all will be well again."

Lady Gowan did not explain to her son by what means she had letters from her husband, and once when he asked her point-blank she did not speak out, and he did not dare to press the matter.

And still the time went on.

Baron Steinberg was declared by the doctor well enough to take his journey; and one day, to Frank's relief, Andrew met him with the news that the German noble had taken his departure.

"I saw him go," said Andrew; "and, as he came out to the carriage, looking as thin as a herring, I couldn't help smiling, for all the bounce seemed to be gone out of him, and he was walking with a stick."

"Poor wretch!" said Frank.

"Nonsense! Got what he deserved. Some of these foreign officers seem to think that they wear swords and learn to use them for nothing else but to enable them to play the part of bullies and insult better men, force them to a fight, and then kill them. I'm only too glad one of them has had his lesson."

"But it's very horrible," said Frank thoughtfully.

"Of course it is," said Andrew, purposely misunderstanding him. "He'd have killed your father with as little compunction as he would a rat."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Frank, with a shiver.

"But he won't be so ready to insult people next time; and next time will be a long way off, I know. But, I say, it's sickening, that it is."

"What is?"

"The fuss made over a fellow like that. Baron indeed! He's only a foreign mercenary; and here is your poor father sent out of the country, while my lord has apartments set aside for him in the Palace, and he's petted and pampered, and now at last he goes off in one of the King's carriages with an escort."

"Oh, well, as far as he is concerned, it does not matter."

"Oh, but it does. I say it's shameful that such preference should be shown to foreigners. If matters go on like this, there'll be no old England left; we shall be all living in a bit of Germany."

"Well, he has gone," said Frank; "so let it rest."

"I can't, I tell you; it makes my blood boil."

"Go and drink some cold water to cool it."

"Bah! You'll never make a good outspoken Englishman, Frank."

"Perhaps not. I shall never make a quarrelsome one," said Frank quietly.

"What! Oh, I like that! Why, you're the most quarrelsome fellow I ever met. I wonder we haven't had our affair in the Park before now. If it hadn't been for my forbearance we should."

Frank stared at his companion in astonishment, for it was quite evident that he was speaking sincerely.

"Come along," said Andrew.

"Where?"

"Out in the Park, where we can breathe the fresh air. I feel stifled in these close rooms, breathing the air of a corrupt court."

"No, thank you," said Frank.

"What? You won't come?"

"No, thank you."

"Why? We're quite free this morning."

"I'm afraid."

"What, that I shall challenge you to fight somewhere among the trees?"

"No; I don't want to go and feed the ducks."

"There, what did I say?" cried Andrew. "You really are about as quarrelsome a fellow as ever lived. No, no; I don't mean that. Come on, Frank, old lad; I do want a breather this morning. I'll do anything you like--run races if you wish."

"Will Mr George Selby be out there on the look-out for you?"

"No," said Andrew, with a gloomy look. "Poor fellow! I wish he would. Honour bright, we shan't meet any one I sympathise with there."

"Very well then, I'll come."

"Hurrah!" cried Andrew eagerly.

"It is stuffy and close in here. I did hope that we should have been down at the old house by this time."

"Yes, that holiday got knocked on the head. Has Lady Gowan heard from your father again?"

"Hush!"

"Oh, very well; I'll whisper. But there are no spies here."

"Mother hasn't heard now for some time, and she's growing very uneasy. She has been getting worse and worse. Oh, what a miserable business it is! I wish we were with him."

"Yes, I wish we were; for if matters go on like this much longer, I shall run away. Here, what do you say, Frank? I'm sick of being a palace poodle. Let's go and seek adventures while we're searching for your father."

"Seek nonsense!" said Frank testily. "Life isn't like what we read in books."

"Oh yes, it is--a deal more than you think. Let's go; it would be glorious."

"Nonsense! Even if I wanted to, how could I? You know what my father said--that I was to stay and protect my mother."

"She'd be safe enough where she is, and she'd glory in her son being so brave as to go in search of his father."

"No, she would think it was cowardly of me to forsake her, whatever she might say; and if I went off in that way, after the kind treatment we have received from the Prince and Princess, it would make my poor mother's position worse than ever."

"I don't believe that the Prince and Princess would mind it a bit. For I will say that for him--he isn't such a bad fellow; and I nearly like her. He isn't so very easy, Frank, I can tell you. He's pretty nearly a prisoner. The King won't let him go and live away, because he's afraid he'd grow popular, and things would be worse than they are. Look how the people are talking, and how daring they are getting."

"Are they?"

"Oh yes. There'll be trouble soon. Come on."

"Mind, I trust to your honour, Drew."

"Of course. Then you won't come off with me?"

"No--I--will not."

Andrew laughed.

"I say, though," he said, as they went past the quarters the baron had occupied, "it was rather comic to see that cripple go. Just before he got into the carriage, he turned to thank the doctor, and he caught sight of me."

"What! did he recognise you?"

"I don't think so; but I was laughing--well no, smiling--and he smiled back, and bowed to me, thinking, I suppose, that I was there to say good-bye to him. He little knew, what I was thinking. Well, good riddance. But the doctor--"

"Eh?" said a sharp voice, and the gentleman named stepped out of one of the dark doorways they were passing in the low colonnade.

"Want to see me, my lads?"

"N-no," stammered Andrew, thoroughly taken aback. "We--were talking about you starting the baron off."

"Oh, I see," said the doctor, smiling. "Of course, I saw you there. Yes, he's gone. Hah! Yes! That was a very peculiar wound, young gentlemen; and I honestly believe that not one in a hundred in my profession could have saved his life. I worked very hard over his case, and he went off, without so much as giving me a little souvenir--a pin or a ring, or a trifle of that kind--seal, for instance."

"What could you expect from one of those Germans, sir?" said Andrew contemptuously.

"Yes, what indeed!" said the doctor, taking snuff, and looking curiously at Frank. "Bad habit this, young man. Don't you follow my example. Dirty habit, eh? But, I say, young fellow," he added, turning to Andrew, "a still tongue maketh a wise head. Wise man wouldn't shout under the Palace windows such sentiments as those, holding the German nation up to contempt. There, a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse. Here, Gowan, what's the last news?"

"I don't know of any, sir."

"Come, come! I'm a friend of his. You needn't be so close with me. I mean about your father."

"I have none, sir."

"Eh? Don't you know where he is?"

"No, sir," said Frank sadly.

"Humph! Pity!" said the doctor, taking a fresh pinch of snuff. "Because, if you had known, you might have written to tell him that I've cured the baron, and sent him away. Yes, I worked very hard over his case. Many's the night I sat up with him, so that he shouldn't, slip through my fingers. For it would have been so much worse for your father if he had."

"Yes, horrible," said Frank.

"I say, you ought to get him back now. Have a try."

"But what can I do, sir?" cried Frank eagerly.

"Oh, I don't know. No use to ask me, boy. Politics are not in my way. If you like to come to me with a broken bone, or a cut, or a hole in you anywhere, I'm your man, and I'll try and set you right. Or if you want a dose of good strong physic, I'll mix you up something that will make you smack your lips and shout for sugar. But that other sort of thing is quite out of my way. What do you say to our all signing a round robin, and sending it into the King? for we all want Gowan back."

"Yes, sir--capital!" cried Frank; but Andrew smiled contemptuously.

"Or look here. You're a boy--smart lad too, with plenty of brains," continued the doctor, who had noticed Andrew's sneer; "sensible sort of boy--not a dandy, gilded vane, like Forbes here. Ah! don't you look at me like that, sir, or next time you're sick I'll give you such a dose as shall make you smile the other way."

"Come along, Frank," said the lad angrily. "You wait a minute. I haven't done with him yet. Look here, boy," he continued, clapping Frank on the shoulder; "there's nothing a man and a father likes better than a good, natural, straightforward, manly sort of boy. I don't mean a fellow who spends half his time scenting himself, brushing his hair to make it curl, and looking at himself in the glass.--Here, hallo! what's the matter with you, Forbes? I didn't say you did. Pavement warm? Cat on hot bricks is nothing to you."

Andrew tightened his lips, and the doctor went on.

"Look here, Gowan; I tell you what I'd do if I were you. I should just wait for my chance--you'll get plenty--and then I should go right in front of the King, dump myself down on one knee, and when he asks you what you want, tell him bluntly, like a manly boy should, to forgive your father, who is as brave an officer as ever cried 'Forward!' to a company of soldiers."

"Bah!" ejaculated Andrew.

"Bo!" cried the doctor. "Good-looking gander! What do you know about it?--You ask him. As the offended king, he may feel ready to say _no_; but as the man and father, he'll very likely be ready to say _yes_."

"Oh, I never thought of that!" cried Frank excitedly.

"Then think about it now, my boy. That's my prescription for a very sore case. You do it and win; and if your mother doesn't think she's got the best son in the world, I'm a Dutchman, and we've got plenty without."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, doctor!" cried Frank.

"Wish you luck, boy. Do that, and you may be as proud as a peacock afterward--proud as Andrew Forbes here, and that's saying a deal."

The doctor nodded to them both, took a fresh pinch of snuff loudly, and went off.

"Bah!" growled Andrew, as he went off at a great rate toward the Park. "Ridiculous! How can an English gentleman advise such a degrading course. Go down on your knees to that Dutchman, and beg!"

"I'd go down on my face to him, Drew," cried Frank excitedly.

"You won't follow out his advice?"

"I will, and when everybody is there," cried Frank. "He's right, and I believe that the King will."

Andrew was silent for some minutes, and they walked on, inadvertently going down by the water-side, and directing their steps to the clump of trees where the duel had taken place.

They passed over the ground in silence, each picturing the scene, and then went slowly on, so as to pass round the end of the canal--for such it was in those days--and return by the other side.

Andrew was the first to break the silence, Frank being plunged in deep thought over the doctor's advice.

"You ought to be very proud of your father, Frank," he said.

"I am," was the laconic reply.

"My father, when I told him, said he behaved most gallantly, but that he ought to have killed his man."

"Your father!" cried Frank, staring. "Why, when did you see your father?"

"Can't people write?" said Andrew hastily; and he looked slightly confused. "I did learn how to read and write," he added, with a forced laugh.

Frank was silent for a few moments.

"I say," he said at last, "doesn't it seem strange that we should be both like this--each with his father obliged to keep abroad?"

"Very," said Andrew drily, and he glanced sidewise at his companion; but Frank was thinking with his brow all in lines, till they came round opposite to the house overlooking the Park, where he stopped to gaze up at the windows.

"Poor old place looks dismal," said Andrew, "with its shutters to and blinds drawn-down. I wonder your mother doesn't let it."

"What, our house?" cried Frank, flushing. "Oh, they wouldn't do that."

"Seems a pity for such a nice place to be empty. But there is some one in it of course?"

"Only our old housekeeper and a maid. Come along; it makes me feel miserable to look at the place."

"But doesn't your mother go there now?"

"No; she has not been since--since--"

He did not finish his sentence, for a curious sensation of huskiness affected his throat, and he felt determined now to follow out the doctor's suggestion, so that there might be some one to take interest in the old town house again.

He took a step or two, and then waited, for Andrew appeared to be attracted more than repelled by the gloomy aspect of the blank-looking place, and then, all at once, Frank's heart seemed to stand still, and a stifling sense of suffocation to affect him, so that it was some moments before he could speak, and then it was in a tone of voice that startled his companion.

"Come away!" cried Frank angrily, and with singular haste. "Don't stop there staring at the windows; it looks so absurd."

Andrew made no reply then, but walked sharply off with his companion till they were some hundred yards away.

"Don't be cross with me, Franky," he said gently. "It isn't my fault, and you ought to know. I feel it as much as you do. I always liked Sir Robert, and you know how much I care for Lady Gowan."

Frank turned to him warmly.

"Yes, I know you do," he said, with a wild and wistful look in his eyes; and his lips parted as if he were eager to say something particular to his companion.

"There, don't take on about it. Things seem all out of joint with us all; but they'll come right some day. And don't you take any notice of me. I feel sometimes as if I'd turned sour, and as if everything was wrong, and I was curdled. I can't help it. Perhaps the doctor's right. You do as he said, and ask the King boldly. For some things I should like to see Sir Robert back."

Frank made a quick gesture as if to speak out, but Andrew checked him with a laugh.

"Oh, I mean it," he said. "I'd rather he joined us."

Frank gave an indignant start.

"There, there! Don't be cross. I won't say any more. You ask the King. He's only a man, if he is a king; and if he doesn't grant your petition, I shall hate him ten times as much as I do now. Why, what a fellow you are! You're all of a tremble, and your face is quite white."

"Is it?" said Frank, with a strange little gasp.

"Yes; either thinking about that petition, or the sight of your poor, dismal old house, or both of them, have regularly upset you. Come along, and don't think about them. I must say this, though, for I want to be honest: if I were placed as you are, with a father who had stood so high in George's service, I think perhaps I should be ready to do what the doctor said for the sake of my mother if she was alive."

Again Frank gave his companion that wistful look, and his lips parted, but no words came; and they went on down by the water-side, without noticing that a shabby-looking man was slouching along behind them, throwing himself down upon the grass, as if idling away the time. And all the while that the two lads were in the Park he kept them in sight, sometimes close at hand, sometimes distant, but always ready to follow them when they went on.

Frank noticed it at last, as they were standing by the water's edge, and whispered his suspicions that they were being watched.

"Who by? That ragged-looking fellow yonder?"

"Yes; don't take any notice."

"No, I'm not going to," said Andrew, stooping to pick up a stone and send it flying over the water. "Spy, perhaps. Well, we're not feeding the ducks to-day. He's a spy for a crown. Well, let him spy. The place is full of them. I've a good mind to lead him a good round, and disappoint him. No, I will not; it might lead to our being arrested for doing nothing, and what would be the good of doing that?"

The man did his work well, for he kept them in sight without seeming to be looking at them once, till they went back to the Palace, where they parted for a time, and Andrew said to himself:

"I wish I had not talked as I did about his father and mother. Poor old fellow; how he was upset!" _

Read next: Chapter 19. It Was Not Fancy

Read previous: Chapter 17. The King's Decree

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