It was a capital dinner, but Sam felt that he could not eat a bit for
mental troubles, while his cousin felt the same from bodily reasons
connected with a terrible stiffness at one angle of his lower jaw.
Consequently Sam made a very poor dinner, to his mother's grief; but Tom
ate heartily and enjoyed everything, forgetting his cares for the time
being, as he listened in astonishment to the way in which his cold,
grave uncle could brighten up, and keep the whole table interested by
his conversation relating to discoveries in the world of science,
especially in connection with light, and researches in what he spoke of
as "The Vast Abyss."
Then came tea in the drawing-room, and on the part of the two boys an
early movement in the direction of bed.
Tom was on his guard as soon as they were alone, fully expecting that
his cousin would in some way renew hostilities, the more especially as
neither Mr nor Mrs Brandon had had an opportunity of speaking to them
with warning or appeal.
But Sam did not even look at him, undressing himself in sulky silence,
throwing his clothes here and there, and plunging into bed and turning
his face to the wall as he began to make his plans respecting a campaign
he intended to carry out for the destruction of his cousin's peace,
without running risks of getting himself injured as he had been that
night.
"For," said Sam to himself, "everything seems to be against me. I only
forgot that letter, and instead of helping a fellow out of a hole that
beastly young sneak betrayed me. Then when I meant to pay him out, all
the luck was on his side; and lastly, old moony Uncle Dick must turn
upon me about that money affair. But wait a bit, I'll pay him back, and
then he may tell the guv'nor if he likes. What did he say when I went
and told him what a hole I was in over that account, and was afraid the
guv'nor would know;--that it was embezzlement, and a criminal offence,
and that if I had done such a thing for a regular employer, I might have
found myself in the felon's dock? Rubbish! I only borrowed the money
for a few weeks, and meant to pay it back. He shall have it again; and
let him tell the old man if he dares. A coward, to throw that in my
teeth! Wonder if they'll ask him what he meant. But all right, Master
Tom Blount, you shall pay for this."
Meantime the object of his threatenings had undressed in silence too,
extinguished the light, remembered by his bedside the old mother-taught
lesson, and added a prayer for pardon in regard for that which he had
made up his mind to do. Then, as his head pressed the pillow, he lay
thinking of all that had taken place since he had been at his uncle's,
and came finally to the conclusion that he could bear no more.
"I can't help being a fool," he said to himself, dolefully. "I have
tried, but all these law things slip out of my head as fast as I read
them. Of course it makes uncle bitter and angry, when he has tried to
help me, and would go on trying if it was not for Sam."
Then the long, weary time of his stay came up, and in succession the
series of injuries and petty annoyances to which he had been subjected
by his cousin passed before him, strengthening his determination.
But in spite of all these, he would have fought down the desire so
strong upon him if it had not been for the past evening's scene. Even
as he lay in bed his face flushed, and he quivered with shame and
indignation. For here it all was vividly before his mind's eye. What
had he done to deserve it? Nothing. He had spoken the truth, and
declined to take his cousin's lapse upon his own shoulders about that
letter; and then on getting home Sam had turned upon him, and any boy,
Tom argued, would have done as he did, and struck back. He'd have been
a mean-spirited coward if he had not.
"No, I can't stand it," he muttered, with his head beneath the clothes.
"He was going to beat me in spite of all I said, and it was too
horrible. I wouldn't have minded so much if I had been in the wrong,
but even then it was too cruel before aunt--before the servants, and
with Sam lying there shamming to be so bad, and watching all the time in
his delight. No, I won't alter my mind in the morning. Poor father
used to say, `Sleep on it, my lad;' but I can't sleep on this. I must
go now before things get worse."
He threw the clothes from his face and lay listening, to try and make
out whether his cousin was awake. He was not, for a heavy stuffy
breathing could be heard, consequent upon Sam's mouth being open, a
peculiar puffy swelling about the nose preventing him from breathing in
the usual way.
This brought a gleam of mental sunshine into Tom's sad and blackened
horizon. Naturally a bright, merry lad, for months past he had not had
a hearty laugh; but now, as he recalled his cousin's appearance, the
smile broadened, and for a few moments he shook with suppressed
laughter.
But the mirth passed away directly, for the matter was too serious, and
he now lay with knitted brows, listening to his cousin's breathing, and
continuing his plans.
He would wait another hour, and then begin.
He waited for some time listening till the last sound had died out in
the house, thinking that he must move about very silently, for his
uncle's room was beneath, and the servants were only separated from them
by a not too thick wall.
"Poor cook! poor Mary!" he thought. "I should like to kiss them and say
good-bye. How brave cook was; and she is sure to lose her place for
taking my part. Aunt and uncle will never forgive her. How I wish I
had a home of my own and her for housekeeper. But perhaps I shall never
have one now, for what am I going to do when I go?"
That was the great puzzle as he lay there gazing at the window-blind,
faintly illumined by the gas-lamps in the Crescent. What was he to do?
Soldier?--No; he was too young, and wanting in manly aspect. Sailor?--
No. He would like to go to sea, and have adventures; but no, if his
father and mother had lived it would have given them pain to know that
he had run away to enlist, or get on board some coasting vessel.
No; he could not do that. It might be brave and daring, but at the same
time he had a kind of feeling that it would be degrading, and he would
somehow do better than either of those things, and try and show his
uncles, both of them, and Sam too, that if he was a fool, he was a fool
with some good qualities.
But it was quite an hour since it had struck twelve, and it was time to
act. The first thing was to test Sam's sleep--whether he was sound
enough to enable him to make his preparations unheard.
What would be the best thing to do? came again. How could he get work
without a character? What answer could he give people who asked him who
he was, and whence he came?
No answer came, think hard as he would. All was one black, impenetrable
cloud before him, into which he had made up his mind to plunge, and what
his future was to be he could not tell. But let it be what it would, he
mentally vowed that it should be something honest, and he would not let
the blackness of that cloud stay him. No; his mind was fully made up
now. This was his last night at his uncle's house, and he would take
his chance as to where he would next lay his head.
"I shall be free," he muttered half aloud; "now I am like a slave."
It was time to act. Not that he meant to leave the house that night.
No; his mind was made up. He would pack a few things in the little
black bag in which he took his law-books to and fro, place it ready in
the hall as usual, and go in to his breakfast; and when he started for
the office, just call in and say good-bye to Pringle, who would not
hinder him. On the contrary, he would be sure to give him advice, and
perhaps help him as to his future.
"Poor old Pringle won't say stay," he muttered; and reaching out of bed,
he felt in his trousers pocket on the chair for a halfpenny. He could
not spare it, but it was the only missile he could think of then, and he
held it poised ready to throw as he listened to his cousin's heavy
breathing.
He threw the coin forcibly, so that it struck the wall just above Sam's
head, and fell upon his face.
There was no movement, and the heavy, guttural breathing went on.
Tom waited a few minutes, and then slipped out of bed, crossed to his
cousin's side, and gave the iron bedstead a slight shake, then a hard
one. Next he touched his shoulder, and finished by laying a cold hand
upon his hot brow.
But the result was always the same--the heavy, hoarse breathing.
Satisfied that he might do anything without arousing his cousin, he
returned to his own bed, slipped on his trousers, and sat down to think.
There was the bag of books on the top of his little chest of drawers,
and he had only to take them out, lay them down, and after carefully
pulling out the drawer, pack the bag full of linen, and add an extra
suit. It would be a tight cram, but he would want the things, and they
would prove very useful.
But there was a hitch here. All these things were new, his old were
worn-out, and his uncle had paid for all these in spite of his aunt's
suggestion, that there were a good many of Sam's old things that might
be altered to fit.
He stumbled over this. They were not his; and at last, in a spirit of
proud independence, he ignored his own services to his uncle, and
stubbornly determined that he would take nothing but the clothes in
which he stood.
"And some day I'll send the money to pay for them," he said proudly,
half aloud.
"Gug--gug--gug--ghur-r-r-r," came from his cousin's bed as if in
derision.
But Tom's mind was made up, and undressing once more he lay down to
think, but did not, for, quite satisfied now as to his plans, no sooner
had his head touched the pillow than, utterly wearied out, he dropped
asleep.
It seemed to him that he had only just closed his eyes, when, in a
dreamy way, he heard the customary tapping at his door, followed by a
growl from Sam, bidding Mary not make "that row."
Then Tom was wide-awake, thinking of his over-night plans.
And repentant?
Not in the least. He lay there thinking fiercely, only troubled by the
idea of what he would do as soon as he had made his plunge penniless
into that dense black cloud--the future.
But there was no lifting of the black curtain. He could see his way to
the office to bid Pringle good-bye. After that all was hidden.
At the end of a quarter of an hour he jumped up and began to dress,
while Sam lay with his back to him fast asleep, or pretending.
It did not matter, for he did not want to speak to him; and after
dressing, and duly noting that there was only a scratch or two, no
swelling about his face, he went down with his bag of books to the
breakfast-room, to read as usual for an hour before his uncle and aunt
came down.
In the hall he encountered the cook, who had to "do" that part of the
housework, and she rose from her knees to wish him so hearty a
good-morning, that a lump rose in Tom's throat, there was a dimness in
his eyes, and his hand went out involuntarily for a silent good-bye.
To his surprise a pair of plump arms were flung round him, and he
received two hearty kisses, and then there was a warm whisper in his
ear--
"Don't you mind a bit, my dear. You didn't deserve it; and as for Mr
Sam, he's a beast."
"Thank you, cook," said Tom huskily, "thank you. Good-bye."
"What! Oh no, it ain't good-bye neither, my dear. They'd like me to
go, and so I won't. I'll stop just to spite them, so there!"
Cook went off to seize a door-mat, carry it out on the front steps, and
then and there she banged it down, and began to thump it with the head
of the long broom, as if in imagination she had Sam beneath her feet.
"She didn't understand me," said Tom to himself, as he hurried into the
breakfast-room, feeling that after all it would be very painful to go,
but not shaken in his determination.
"Morning, Mr Tom," said Mary, who looked bright and cheerful in her
clean print dress, as she made pleasant morning music by rattling the
silver spoons into the china saucers. "Ain't it a nice morning? The
sun's quite hot."
"Yes, a beautiful morning," said Tom sadly, as he gave the girl a
wistful look, before going into a corner, sitting down and opening
_Tidd's Practice_ for what his cousin called a grind.
Then with a sigh he went on reading, giving quite a start when Mary had
finished her preparations for breakfast, and came to whisper--
"Cook ain't going, sir; she says she wouldn't go and leave you here
alone for nothing, and I won't neither."
Tom felt as if he could not speak, and he had no need to, for the maid
slipped out of the room, and the next minute Uncle Richard entered to
nod to him gravely.
"Morning, my lad," he said rather sternly. "That's right--never waste
time."
How cold and repellent he seemed: so different to his manner upon the
previous night, when the boy had felt drawn towards him. The effect was
to make Tom feel more disposed than ever to carry out his plan, and he
was longing for the breakfast to be over, so that he could make his
start for the office.
But it wanted half-an-hour yet, and the boy had just plunged more deeply
into his book, when Uncle Richard said--
"And so you don't like the law, Tom?"
The boy started, for there was a different ring in the voice now. It
sounded as if it were inviting his confidence, and he was about to
speak, when his elder went on--
"To be sure, yes; you told me so last time I saw you."
"I have tried, sir, very hard," said Tom apologetically; "but it seems
as if my brains are not of the right shape to understand it."
"Humph, perhaps not," said his uncle, gazing at him searchingly; and Tom
coloured visibly, for it seemed to him that those penetrating eyes must
be reading the secret he was keeping. "And you don't like your cousin
Sam either?"
Tom was silent for a few moments.
"Why don't you answer my question, sir?"
"I was thinking, uncle, that it is Cousin Sam who does not like me."
"How can he when you knock him down, and then dash china vases at him,
sir?"
"I suppose I did knock him down, uncle, but not until he had kicked and
struck me. Throw vases at him!" cried the boy indignantly; "I wouldn't
be such a coward."
"Humph!" grunted his uncle, taking up the morning paper that Mary had
just brought in; and without another word he sat back in his chair and
began to read, while Tom, with his face still burning, turned once more
to his book, with a strange elation beginning to take the place of the
indignation he felt against his uncle, for it had suddenly occurred to
him that this was the last time he would have to make his head ache over
the hard, brain-wearying work. Then the elation died out again, for
what was to be his future fate?
He was musing over this, and wondering whether after all he dare trust
Pringle, when the door suddenly opened, Uncle Richard rustled and
lowered the paper, and Mrs Brandon entered the room, looking
wonderfully bright and cheerful.
"Good-morning, Richard," she cried; "I am so sorry I am late. James
will be down directly. Good-morning, Tom."
Tom jumped in his chair at this pleasantly cordial greeting, and stared
dumbfounded at his aunt.
"Not a bit late," said Uncle Richard, after a glance at his watch. "You
are very punctual. Hah, here is James."
For at that moment Mr Brandon, looking clean-shaven and pleasant,
entered the room.
"Morning, Dick," he cried; "what a lovely air. Ah, Tom, my boy, got
over the skirmish?"
Tom babbled out something, and felt giddy. What did it mean? Could
they have divined that he was about to run away, and were going to alter
their treatment; or had Uncle Richard, who seemed again so grave and
cold, been taking his part after he had gone to bed?
But he had very little time for dwelling upon that; the question which
troubled him was, How could he go away now?
The thoughts sent him into a cold perspiration, and he glanced anxiously
at the clock, to see that it was a quarter past eight, and that in
fifteen minutes, according to custom, he must start for the office--for
the office, and then--where?
Just then Mary entered with the breakfast-tray, and, chatting
pleasantly, all took their seats. Mary whisked off two covers, to
display fried ham and eggs on one, hot grilled kidneys on the other.
Tom grew hotter and colder, and asked himself whether he was going out
of his mind, for there was no thin tea and bread-and-butter that
morning.
"Tea or coffee, Tom?" said his aunt; and Tom's voice sounded hoarse as
he chose the latter.