The Vast Abyss. Fenn George Manville
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Richard went on with his breakfast, making believe to see nothing, but Tom noticed that his keen eyes glittered, and that nothing escaped him. Those eyes were wonderful, and fascinated the boy.
Suddenly, just as he had made a very poor breakfast, the clock on the chimney-piece gave a loud ting. It was the half-hour, and Tom rose quickly after a hasty glance at his uncle and aunt. He had had breakfast for the last time, and feeling that this change of treatment was only due to his Uncle Richard’s presence, he was more determined than ever to go.
“Good-bye, Uncle Richard,” he said firmly, but there was a husky sound in his voice.
“No, no, sit down, Tom,” was the reply. “We won’t say good-bye yet.”
Sam stopped eating, with a bit of kidney half-way to his mouth, and stared.
“Yes, sit down, Tom,” said Mr Brandon, giving a premonitory cough, after a glance at his wife. “The fact is, my lad, your uncle and I had a little conversation about you after you were gone to bed last night.”
Tom, who had subsided into his chair, took hold of the table-cloth, and began to twist it up in his agitation, as a peculiar singing noise came in his ears; and as he listened he kept on saying to himself – “Too late – too late; I must keep to it now.”
“Yes, a very long talk,” said Uncle Richard.
“Very,” acquiesced his brother; “and as we – as he – ”
“As we, James,” said Uncle Richard.
“Exactly – could not help seeing that you do not seem cut out for the law – er – hum – do not take to it – he has been kind enough to say that he will give you a trial with him down in the country.”
Tom’s head, which had been hanging down, was suddenly raised, and the words were on his lips to say No, he could not go, when he met the keen, bright, piercing eyes fixed upon his, and those words died away.
“He has not definitely decided as to what he will put you to, but means to test you, as it were, for a few months.”
The singing in Tom’s ears grew louder.
Go with that cold stern man, who had never seemed to take to him? It would be like jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire. Impossible! He could not – he would not go.
“There,” said Mr Brandon in conclusion, after a good deal more, of which Tom heard not a word; “it is all settled, and you will go down with your uncle this morning, so you had better pack up your box as soon as we leave the table. Now what have you to say to your uncle for his kindness?”
“No: I will not go,” thought Tom firmly; and once more he raised his eyes defiantly to that searching pair, which seemed to be reading his; but he did not say those words, for others quite different came halting from his lips – “Thank you, Uncle Richard – and – and I will try so hard.”
“Of course you will, my boy,” said the gentleman addressed, sharply. “But mind this, the country’s very dull, my place is very lonely, all among the pine-trees, and you will not have your cousin Sam to play with.”
“Haw haw!”
This was a hoarse laugh uttered by the gentleman in question.
“I beg your pardon, Sam?” said Uncle Richard, raising his eyebrows.
“I didn’t speak, uncle,” said Sam, “but I will, and I say a jolly good job too, and good riddance of bad rubbish.”
“Sam, dear, you shouldn’t,” said his mother, in a gentle tone of reproof.
“Yes, I should; it’s quite true.”
“Hold your tongue, sir.”
“All right, father; but we shall have some peace now.”
“And I am to have all the disturbance, eh?” said Uncle Richard; “and the china vases thrown at me and smashed, eh?”
Tom darted a quick look at his uncle, and saw that he was ready to give him a nod and smile, which sent a thrill through him.
“You’ll have to lick him half-a-dozen times a week,” continued Sam.
“Indeed,” said Uncle Richard good-humouredly; “anything else?”
“Yes, lots of things,” cried Sam excitedly; “I could tell you – ”
“Don’t, please, my dear nephew,” said Uncle Richard, interrupting him; “I could not bear so much responsibility all at once. You might make me repent of my determination.”
“And you jolly soon will,” cried Sam maliciously; “for of all the – ”
“Hush, Sam, my darling!” cried his mother.
“You hold your tongue now, sir,” said Mr Brandon; “and I should feel obliged by your making haste down to the office. You can tell Pringle that your cousin is not coming any more.”
Tom started, and looked sharply from one to the other.
“Mayn’t I go and say good-bye to Pringle, uncle?” he cried.
“No, sir,” said his Uncle James coldly; “you will only have time to get your box packed. Your uncle is going to catch the ten fifty-five from Charing Cross.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Richard; “and you can write to your friend.”
“Or better not,” said Mr Brandon. “Tom has been rather too fond of making friends of people beneath him. There, my lad, you had better go and be getting ready; and I sincerely hope that you will make good use of your new opportunity.”
Tom hardly knew how he got out of the room, for he felt giddy with excitement. Then he was not going to run away, but to be taken down into Surrey by his Uncle Richard – and for what?
Would he behave well to him? He looked cold and stern, but he was not on the previous night. Young as he was, Tom could read that there was another side to his character. Yes, he must go, he thought; and then he came face to face with Mary, who came bustling out of a bedroom.
“La! Master Tom, how you startled me. Not gone to the office?”
“No, Mary. I’m going away for good with Uncle Richard.”
“Oh, I am glad! No, I ain’t – I’m sorry. But when?”
“This morning – almost directly.”
“My! I’ll go and tell cook.”
Tom reached his room, packed up his things as if in a dream, and bore the box down-stairs, his cousin having left the house some time. Then, still as if in a dream, he found himself in the breakfast-room, and heard Mary told to whistle for a cab.
Ten minutes later his uncle’s Gladstone was on the roof side by side with the modest old school box; and after saying good-bye to all, they were going down the steps.
“Jump in first, Tom,” said Uncle Richard, “and let’s have no silly crying about leaving home.”
Tom started, and stared at his uncle with his eyes wonderfully dry then, but the next moment they were moist, for two female figures were at the area gate waving their handkerchiefs; and as the boy leaned forward to wave his hand in return, mingled with the trampling of the horse, and the rattle of the wheels, there came his uncle’s voice shouting Charing Cross to the cabman from the kerb, and from the area gate —
“Good-bye, Master Tom, good-bye!”
“Why, the boy’s wet-eyed!” said Uncle Richard in a peculiarly sneering voice. “What a young scoundrel you must have been, sir, to make those two servants shout after you like that! There, now for a fresh home, boy, and the beginning of a new life, for your dear dead mother’s sake.”
“Uncle!” gasped Tom, with the weak tears now really showing in his eyes, for there was a wonderful change in his companion’s voice, as he laid a firm hand upon his shoulder.
“Yes, Tom, your uncle, my boy. I