The Vast Abyss

Uncle Richard turned his eyes upon his nephew, who tried to speak, but no words would come.

“Dear, dear me, sir,” said the housekeeper. “I am so sorry.”

“I know you are,” said Uncle Richard. “The fact is, my brother met with an accident some little time ago, and it was thought to be of no consequence, but it seems that it is, and the doctors have ordered that he should at once have change of air. He has written to me this morning to that effect.”

“Then he don’t know anything about it,” said Tom, with a sigh of relief, which gave place to a feeling of annoyance, for he wished now that his uncle did know.

“He asks me to have him here for a few days or weeks, and of course I have written to beg that he will come. I hope our air will set him right again, and that it is not so serious as he thinks.”

“Then you’d like me to get a room ready for him at once, sir?” said Mrs Fidler, with alacrity.

“If you please, Mrs F.”

“It shall be done, sir. I am so glad – I mean so sorry. I was afraid something was wrong here.”

“No, Mrs Fidler, there is nothing wrong here; but I’m afraid, Tom, that the visitor will put a stop to our telescopic work.”

Tom seized his opportunity, and blurted out —

“It is stopped, uncle: the speculum is broken in three pieces.”

“What!” cried Uncle Richard, turning pale.

“Completely spoiled, uncle.”

“How, in the name of all that’s unfortunate, did you do that, sir?”

It was Tom’s turn to start now, for his uncle had immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was his doing, and his words in answer sounded lame and inconclusive.

“I didn’t break it, uncle; I found it on the floor.”

“Found it on the floor!” cried Uncle Richard, sarcastically. “It was the cat, I suppose. Was the window left open?”

“I found – ”

“There, hold your tongue now,” said Uncle Richard. “I have something else to think about. You will have everything ready, Mrs Fidler. I have been so separated from my brother nearly all my life, that I feel I owe him every attention.”

“I will attend to it all most carefully.”

“He may come down to-morrow, for I have written saying he is most welcome.”

“Make yourself quite easy, sir. His room shall be ready. I beg pardon, sir; is his good lady coming with him?”

“No, he is coming down alone. I have told him to telegraph by what train, so that I may go and meet him.”

The miserable dinner soon came to an end, and Uncle Richard, instead of chatting pleasantly, never so much as looked at his nephew. But Mrs Fidler did, with her head on one side; and every time Tom caught her eye, which seemed to be nearly every minute, she shook her head at him gently, and gave him such appealing looks, that he felt exasperated at last, and as if he would like to throw something at her.

“She thinks I did it now,” he said to himself; and when his uncle left the table and went into his study he had full proof, for Mrs Fidler seized the opportunity, and shaking her head at him again, said in a whisper —

“Oh, Master Tom, my dear, the truth may be blamed, but can never be shamed.”

“Well, I know that,” cried the boy angrily.

“Hush, my dear! I know it’s very hard, but do – do go and tell your uncle the truth, and he’ll forgive you.”

“I have told him the truth,” cried Tom hotly.

“Oh, my dear, my dear, I’m afraid not, or else your face wouldn’t be so dreadfully red and guilty-like, and I’m sure as your uncle thinks you broke it.”

“Yes,” cried Tom; “everybody seems to think so.”

“Then pray, pray, my dear, be open.”

“Don’t, Mrs Fidler, don’t,” cried Tom pettishly. “I feel as if I can’t bear it.”

“Now, sir, I’m waiting,” said Uncle Richard, suddenly appearing at the open window. “Come over to the observatory at once.”

“Yes, uncle; coming,” cried Tom.

“And do, pray, pray tell him all the truth, my dear,” whispered Mrs Fidler.

“Ugh! you stupid old woman,” exclaimed Tom to himself, as he ran out into the hall, got his cap, and followed his uncle, who was walking sharply on toward the mill-yard, with the keys hanging from his hand.

“And he’s thinking all the time that I did it,” muttered Tom. “He might have waited.”

“Pst! pst!” came from among the bushes, and the boy turned sharply, to see David working his arms about like an old-fashioned telegraph.

“Can’t stop. What is it?” said Tom roughly.

“I ain’t going to stop you, Master Tom; but you go and tell the truth.”

“Bah!” cried Tom.

“The truth may be shamed, sir, but can never be blamed,” said the gardener oracularly.

“Get out, you topsy-turvy old humbug,” cried Tom wrathfully. “Think I don’t know you?” and he ran on, and caught up to his uncle as he was passing through the yard gate.

He did not speak, but went on toward the observatory door.

“Shall I open it, uncle?” said Tom eagerly.

“No,” was the abrupt reply; and Tom shrank within himself like a snail touched with the end of a walking-stick on a damp night. Then the key was rattled into the lock, the door was thrown open, and Uncle Richard, looking very grave and stern, stalked into the workshop straight to the table, glanced at the speculum, and pushed the pieces apart, frowning angrily.

“I’d sooner have given a hundred pounds than that should have happened,” he said.

“Yes, uncle; it’s horrid,” said Tom.

“How did you do it?” said Uncle Richard, turning sharply, and fixing him with his keen eyes, as he had often fixed some deceitful, shivering coolie, who had looked up to him in the past as master and judge in one.