The Vast Abyss Part 68

"Well, you must go up and see him at once."

"Of course, uncle."

"And I shall go with you, my boy. I hope he really is not so bad."

"I hope he is not," said Tom. "How soon shall you go, uncle?"

"In half-an-hour. If we sent for a fly we could only catch the one o'clock train; if we walk over to the station we can catch that at eleven. Shall we walk?"

"Yes, uncle. I'll change my things, and be ready as soon as you."

That afternoon they reached Mornington Crescent, to find straw laid thickly down in front of the house, and a strange feeling of depression came over Tom as they entered the silent room, to be received by his aunt, who looked white and anxious.

"I am so glad you have come, Richard," she said eagerly. "James has been asking for you and Tom so many times."

Just then a bell rang.

"That's his bell to know if it is you," said Aunt f.a.n.n.y; and she hurried up-stairs, to return in a few minutes.

"Come up at once," she said; "you first, Richard;" and she led the way up-stairs, leaving Tom seated in the drawing-room, looking about at the familiar objects, and growing more and more low-spirited, as they recalled many an unhappy hour, and his troubles at the office, and with his cousin Sam.

But he was not left there long. In a few minutes the door re-opened, and his aunt and uncle came in.

"You are to go up, Tom," said Uncle Richard. "There is something to be communicated to you."

"Is--is he so very ill, uncle?" said Tom, with a curious sensation of shrinking troubling him.

"He is very ill, my boy. But don't keep him waiting."

"Is he in his own room, aunt?" asked Tom.

"Yes, my dear. Pray go softly, he is so weak."

Tom drew a deep breath, and went up to the next floor, tapped lightly at the bedroom door, and expecting to see a terrible object stretched upon the bed of sickness in a darkened chamber, he entered, and felt quite a shock.

For the room was bright and sunlit, the window open, and his uncle, looking very white and careworn, seated in an easy-chair, dressed, save that he wore a loose dressing-gown.

"Ah, Tom," he said, holding out a thin hand, "at last--at last."

Tom took the hand extended to him, and felt it clutch his tightly.

"I'm so sorry to see you so ill, uncle," he said.

"Yes, yes, of course, boy; but don't waste time. Let me get it over-- before it is too late."

"You wanted to see me about business, uncle?"

"Yes," said Uncle James, with a groan; "terrible business. Ah, Tom, my boy. But stop, go to the door, and see that no one is listening."

Tom obeyed, opening and closing the door.

"No, uncle, there is no one there."

"Turn the key, my boy, turn the key."

Tom obeyed, wondering more and more, as he returned to his uncle's side.

"Now, quick," said the sick man; "go to that cupboard, and bring out that tin box."

He did as he was told, and brought out an ordinary deed-box, which at a sign he placed upon a chair by his uncle's side.

"Can I do anything else, uncle?"

"Yes, boy," cried the sick man, "and it is my last request. Tom, I've been a wicked wretch to you, and I want you to forgive me before I die."

Tom smiled.

"Of course, uncle," he said quietly, as a feeling of pity for the wreck before him filled his breast, "I suppose I was very stupid, and made you cross."

"He does not know, he does not know," groaned James Brandon, as he clung to the boy's hand, "and I must tell him. Tom, my boy, it was a sore temptation, and I did not resist it. I robbed you, my boy, dreadfully.

Here, take these, it is to make amends: deeds of some property, my boy, and the mortgage of some money I have lent--nearly five thousand pounds, my boy, and all yours by rights."

"Mine!" cried Tom, startled out of his calmness by the surprise.

"Yes, all yours, my boy. Your poor mother confided it to my care, Tom, for you, and I was tempted, and kept it all back. It was a fraud, Tom, and I am a criminal. I could not die with that on my conscience. Tell me you forgive me, Tom, before it is too late."

Tom gazed at the convulsed face before him with a look of anger which changed into pity, and then to disgust.

"Do you hear me, boy? You must, you shall forgive me. Don't you see I am almost a dying man?"

"My mother trusted that all to you, and you sto--kept it back, uncle,"

said Tom sternly.

"Yes, my boy; yes, my boy. You are quite right--stole it all, robbed you--an orphan. But I'm punished, Tom. I haven't had a happy hour since; and you see these--these deeds in the strong cloth-lined envelope, tied up with green silk--it is all yours, my boy. Take it and keep it till you come of age, and then it is yours to do with as you like. But tell me you forgive me."

Tom was silent, and his uncle groaned.

"Am I to go down on my knees to you?" he cried.

"No, uncle," said Tom sadly; "and I forgive you."

"Ah!" cried the wretched man, "at last--at last!" and he burst out into an hysterical fit of sobbing, which was painful in the extreme to the listener, as he stood gazing down, with the great envelope in his hand, at the broken, wretched man before him, till the invalid looked up sharply.

"Put it away--in your jacket, boy, and never let me see it again. Give it to your uncle to take care of for you till you come of age. I shall be dead and gone then, Tom; but you will have forgiven me, and I shall be at rest."

Tom said nothing, for his head was in a whirl, but he quietly b.u.t.toned up the packet in his breast.

"Have you told Uncle Richard, sir?" he said, at last.