CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
HOW TOM DRIFT PARTED WITH HIS BEST FRIEND.
Charlie could not fail to discover before long that there was somethingwrong with my master.
Never before had he known him so silent, so spiritless, so mysterious.No effort could rouse him into cheerfulness or conversation, and for thefirst time for three years Charlie felt that Tom was sorry to see him.Naturally, he put it all down to the results of overwork. Tom in hisletters had always represented himself as engrossed in study. Even thefew hurried scrawls of the past few weeks he had excused on the sameground. It never once occurred to the simple-minded schoolboy that achum of his could possibly be struggling in the agonies of shame andtemptation and he know nothing of it; he who knew so little of evilhimself, was not the one to think or imagine evil where any otherexplanation was possible.
And yet Tom's manner was so strange and altered, that he determined, assoon as they should find themselves alone, to make an effort toascertain its cause.
The opportunity came when the two youths, having bid farewell to Mr andMrs Newcome, found themselves at last in Tom's lodgings in GrimeStreet.
"Well," said Charlie, with all the show of cheerfulness he could muster,for his spirits had been strangely damped by the irresponsive gloom ofhis old schoolfellow--"well! here's the den at last. Upon my word, oldman, I've seen livelier holes! Why don't you explore and find someplace a trifle less dead-alive? But I dare say it's convenient to benear the Hospital, and when a fellow's working, it doesn't much matterwhat sort of a place he's in, as long as there's not a row going onunder his window--and I don't suppose there's much chance of that here,"said Charlie, looking out into the black street with a kind of shudder.
Tom said nothing; he wished his friend would not everlastingly betalking of hard work and study in the way he did. However Charlieintended it, it was neither more nor less than a talking at him, andthat he could not stand.
Charlie took no notice of his silence, but continued his inspection ofthe dismal apartment, lighting up with pleasure at the sight of the oldRandlebury relics.
"My old rod!" exclaimed he, taking down the very rod with the lance-woodtop which had figured so conspicuously in a certain adventure threeyears ago; "how jolly to see it again! I'm afraid you don't get muchuse for it here. And our fencing-sticks, too; see, Tom, here's the veryplace where you got under my guard and snipped a bit out of the basket.Ha, ha! what a crack that was! And here's the picture of oldRandlebury, with you at your window, and me lying on the grass (andlooking uncommonly like a recently felled tree). Look here, Tom, thiswindow here is where Jim and I hang out now. It used to be Callaghan's.By the way, do you ever see Call? He's in London, articled to asolicitor. A pretty lawyer he'll make! Have you seen him yet, Tom?"
Tom, during this rattle, had been looking listlessly out of the window.He now turned round with a start and said--
"Eh? what did you say?"
The look which accompanied the words was so haggard and miserable, thatCharlie's pity was instantly touched. He stepped across the room andput his arm in Tom's as he stood, and said,--
"Tom, old boy, what's wrong?"
Tom said nothing, but walked away and leaned against the mantelpiece.
"What is it, Tom? Are you ill, or in trouble? You'll tell me, won'tyou?"
Tom still remained silent, but his flushing face and restless lipsshowed that the appeal had at least been heard.
"Old boy," continued Charlie, venturing again nearer, "we never used tohave secrets. I'm sure something's the matter. Mayn't I know what itis? Very likely I can't help you; but I could try."
Tom's lips quivered. The old influence was fast coming back. Alreadyin his mind he was picturing himself telling Charlie all and with hishelp extricating himself from the slough into which he had sunk. How_could_ he stand unmoved with that voice, familiar by many a memory ofsimple courageous goodness, again falling on his ear; and that appealingface, one so loved and delighted in, again turned to his?
"I'm afraid it's something more than ill health, old boy. You'vesomething on your mind. Oh! why won't you at least tell me what it is?"
Tom could stand it no longer. He _must_ speak. Whatever the confessioncost him, whatever its effect would be on his old schoolfellow'sfriendship, Charlie must know all. To him at least he could not playthe hypocrite or the deceiver. He had turned from the mantelpiece, hishand was held out to take that of his friend's, he was just about tospeak, when the door of his room opened, and there entered Gus,Mortimer, and two companions.
"Here he is!" cried Gus, not noticing that Tom had company. "Tommy, oldman, you're in luck. Old Owl has got a supper on to-night, no end ofpunch, my boy, and he's expecting you; and afterwards we're going for aregular night of it to the-- Hullo! who's your friend?"
He caught sight of Charlie at this moment, and for an instant failed torecognise in Tom's companion the boy whom he had treated so shamefullyat Gurley races. But he remembered him in a moment.
"What, surely--yet upon my honour so it is, our young sporting friend.How are you, Charlie, my boy? Here's a game! You'll come too, ofcourse? Mortimer, this fellow is Drift's special--up to all thewrinkles, no end of a knowing blade."
During this brief and rapid salutation Tom and Charlie, I need hardlysay, were speechless. One in utter despair, the other in utter rage andastonishment. In both the revulsion of feeling caused by theinterruption was almost stupefying, and they stood for a moment staringat the intruders in simple bewilderment.
Tom was the first to find words. His cheeks were white, and his voicealmost choked as he said to Gus,--
"I wish you'd go. I'm engaged."
"So you are," said Gus, with a sneer; "but I say. Tom, old man, I wishyou'd come. It's too good a thing to miss."
"Go away!" almost gasped Tom.
"Oh, of course an Englishman's house is his castle," said Gus, offendedat this unusual rebuff; "you're a fool, though, that's all. We weregoing to have a spree to-night that would make all sprees of the pastmonth look foolish. Come along, don't be an ass; and bring youngmooney-face; I dare say by this time he knows what's what as well as youor me, Tom; eh, Jack?"
"Lookth tho," replied the amused Jack.
By this time Charlie had found words. The truth of course had allflashed in upon him; he knew the secret now of Tom's strange manner, ofthe neglected letters, of the haggard looks, of the reluctant welcome.
And he knew, too, that but for this untimely incursion he would haveheard it all from Tom himself, penitent and humble, instead of, as now,hardened and desperate.
And he recognised in the miserable little swaggering dandy before himthe author and the promoter of his friend's ruin; on him therefore hissudden rage expended itself.
"You little cowardly wretch!" he exclaimed, addressing Gus, "haven't youdone mischief enough to Tom already? Go out of his room!"
Poor Charlie! Nothing could have been more fatal to his hopes than thisrash outbreak. The words had scarcely escaped his lips before he sawthe mischief he had done.
Tom's manner suddenly altered. All signs of shame and penitencedisappeared as he stepped with a swagger up to Charlie and exclaimed,--
"What business have you to attack my friends? Get out yourself!"
"Bravo, Tom, old man," cried the delighted Gus. "Do you hear, youngprig? walk off, you're not wanted here."
Charlie stood for one moment stunned and irresolute. Had there been inTom's face the faintest glimmer of regret, or the faintest trace of theold affection, he would have stayed and braved all consequences. Butthere was neither. The spell that bound Tom Drift, his fear of beingthought a milksop, had changed him utterly, and as Charlie's eyes turnedwith pleading look to his they met only with menace and confusion.
"Go!" repeated Tom, driven nearly wild by the mocking laugh in whichMortimer and his two companions joined.
This, then, was the end of their friendship--so full of hope on oneside, so full of promise on
the other.
It was a strange moment in the lives of those two. To one it was thewilful throwing away of the last and best chance of deliverance, to theother it was the cruel extinction of a love and trust that had till nowbid fair to stand the wear of years to come.
"Get out, I say!" said Tom Drift, once more goaded to madness by thepitying sneers of Mortimer.
Charlie stayed no longer. Half stunned, and scarcely knowing what hedid, with one wild, mute prayer at his heart, he turned without a wordand left the room.
Tom's friends followed his departure with mocking laughter, and watchedhis slowly retreating figure down the street with many a foul jest, andthen returned to congratulate Tom Drift on his deliverance.
"Well," said Gus, "you are well rid of _him_, at any rate. What a luckything we turned up just when we did! He'd have snivelled you into ashocking condition. Why, what a weak-minded fellow Tom is; ain't he,Jack?"
"Wathah," replied Jack, with a laugh.
Meanwhile Tom had abandoned even himself. He hated his friends, hehated himself, he hated Charlie and cursed himself for having everallowed him within his doors. He took no notice of Gus's gibes for along time. At last, "Ugh!" said he, "never mind if I'm weak-minded ornot, I'm sick of all this. Suppose we go off to the supper, and I'llstand treat afterwards at the music-hall?"
And crushing his hat on his head, he dashed out of the house utterlyreckless and desperate.
Need I say my thoughts were with the poor injured boy, who, stung withingratitude, robbed of his friend, and ill with mingled pity, dread, andsorrow, walked slowly down the street away from Tom's lodgings? Ah!when should I see his face or hear his voice again now?
At the supper that evening Tom drank often and deeply, and of all theparty his shout rose highest and his laugh drowned all the others. Theyled him staggering away among them, and brought him to their vileresort. Even his companions wondered at his reckless demeanour, andexpostulated with him on his extravagant wildness. He laughed them toscorn and called for more drink. After a while they rose to depart,leaving him where he was, noisy and helpless.
How long he remained so I cannot say, for suddenly and most unexpectedlyI found myself called upon to enter upon a new stage in my career.
As my master leaned back hopelessly tipsy in his seat, a hand quietlyand swiftly slipped under his coat and drew me from my pocket; asswiftly the chain was detached from its button-hole, and the next thingI was conscious of was being thrust into a strange pocket, belonging tosome one who was quitting the hall as fast as his legs would carry him.
The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch Page 14