Uncle Richard made no further reference to the past day's business, but
Tom noticed that he looked very serious and dejected. He caught him
gazing too in a peculiar way, and upon their eyes meeting Tom saw his
uncle draw himself up rather stiffly, as if he were saying to
himself--"Well, it was not my fault--my honour is not smirched."
Tom felt that his uncle must have some such thought as this, and exerted
himself to make him see that this sad business had only drawn them
closer together.
The plan of turning the laboratory into more of a study had been
gradually working, and that morning, after their return from town, a
couple of book-cases were moved up, with a carpet and chairs, making the
circular room look cosy.
"Yes," said Uncle Richard, as they looked round that evening; "the place
looks quite snug, Tom. My old study was just right for one; but when it
was invaded by a great rough boy like you there was not room to move.
This will do capitally; you can take possession of some of the shelves
for your specimens that you collect, and we can make it a museum as
well."
"You won't mind, uncle, if I do bring things up here?"
"I shall mind if you do not, boy. This is our room, mind, where we can
be quite independent, and make it as littery as we like without being
called to account by Mrs Fidler every time there is a mess."
As he spoke Uncle Richard unlocked the old walnut bureau, and took the
large envelope from his breast--the document which Tom had handed to him
over-night being within.
"Your papers, Tom," he said, rather huskily. "They will be as safe here
as in my room; I will put them with these leases and things. Of course
you can have my keys if you wish to see them."
"I don't want to see them, uncle," said Tom quietly.
"Not to-day perhaps, but you will, my boy. Some day we will go over the
matter together; we neither of us want to talk about it now."
"No, uncle, of course not."
Uncle Richard placed the big envelope in the drawer and locked it up,
placing the keys in his pocket; but directly after he took them out
again, and opened the drawer in which lay several other legal-looking
documents in cartridge envelopes.
"Get me one of those very large cartridge envelopes, Tom, out of the
stationery drawer," he said; and this being fetched from the
table-drawer, the important deeds were slipped in, fastened down, and
the envelope afterwards tied round in the most business-like way with
red tape. After which a wax-match was lit, and the ends of the tape
covered with sealing-wax, and stamped with an old signet-ring.
"There, my boy, we'll leave it for the present. Some day I will go and
see my solicitor about the matter."
Tom uttered a sigh of relief as the documents were locked up, for the
sight of them troubled him. He felt in a way that he could not have
explained, as if he were in some way answerable for the shame which had
come upon their family, and that it was causing something like restraint
between him and his uncle, who evidently was cruelly chagrined by his
brother's conduct.
"I shan't be in any hurry to have them brought out again," thought Tom;
and as Uncle Richard placed the keys in his pocket, Tom began hurriedly
to talk about the speculum.
"How long will it be before we are able to--to what you may call it?"
"Mount it?" said Uncle Richard, smiling sadly.
"Yes, uncle," cried Tom. "You don't know how I long to get it right, so
that we can have a look at the moon."
"It will be some time yet, my boy," replied Uncle Richard with a sigh;
and Tom felt startled, for it seemed to him as if the stern,
decisive-looking countenance before him had grown older, and the lines
in it more deeply-marked.
"Some time, uncle? Why, you said it was as good as finished."
"Yes, my boy, but duty first and pleasure after. While I have been
doing this little bit of business other things have crossed my mind. I
shall go up to town again to-morrow."
"To Uncle James's?" said Tom, after a pause.
"For one thing, yes. It is painful, my boy, but I feel that I ought to
go."
Tom was silent. He stood there feeling that his uncle was behaving
differently to him. For his words were cold and measured, and he did
not speak in the light, pleasant way of a couple of days back. At the
same time, it was not that there was a division between them, but as if
Uncle Richard treated him like one who shared with him a sad secret. He
was graver, and there was a confidential tone in his voice which made
the boy feel that he had grown older all at once.
"Shall you want me to go with you, uncle?" said Tom at last.
Uncle Richard looked at him intently.
"Do you feel as if you could go, Tom?" he asked.
Tom was silent; and then, as the searching eyes would take no denial,
and forced him to speak, the boy cleared his throat from something which
seemed to choke him, and spoke out hurriedly.
"Don't think me queer and awkward, or ungrateful, uncle," he cried.
"I'm ready to forgive Uncle James, but I never did, and never can feel,
as if I liked him. I would rather not go and see him, but if you say I
ought to I will."
"I do not say you ought to, Tom," said his uncle gravely; "but as his
brother, I feel that I must now he is so bad."
"You're not angry with me, uncle?"
"No, boy. I like the way in which you have spoken out. I could not
have stood it, Tom, if you had assumed anything and been hypocritical.
There, now, we will leave the subject. I shall go up again to-morrow
morning. You can spend your time in doing any little thing to make this
place more snug and home-like. I dare say I shall be back to-morrow
evening."
Tom uttered a sigh full of relief as they went back to the cottage, and
that night slept soundly enough, never once giving a thought to the
documents in the old mill, which had suddenly turned him from a
penniless lad into one with a few thousands to start in life when he
came of age.