ow.--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--"

"Yes, what did he say?"

"He told me it was his only comfort in his troubles to feel that his son
was at his mother's side."

"Ah!" sighed Frank; and then he uttered a warning, "Hist! Some one
coming;" and he gazed across the water and went on sketching, for he had
suddenly become aware of some one coming from his left over the grass,
and he trembled lest his words should have been heard, for every one now
seemed likely to be a spy.

It was hard work to keep from looking up, and to appear engrossed with
his task; but he mastered the desire, even when he was conscious of the
fresh-comer being close at hand, his shadow cast over the paper, and he
knew that he was passing between him and the clump of shrubs.

Then whoever it was paused, and Frank felt that he was looking down at
the drawing, while the boy's heart went on thumping heavily.

"He must have heard me speaking," he thought; and then he gave a violent
start and looked up, for a voice said:

"Well done, young gentleman. Quite an artist, I see."

The speaker's face was strange, and he had keen, searching eyes, which
seemed as if they were reading the boy's inmost thoughts as he faltered:

"Oh n