CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
HOW TOM DRIFT, STILL GOING DOWNHILL, MET MY OLD MASTER.
When Tom reached his lodgings that night he found a jubilant letter fromCharlie awaiting him.
"Just fancy," he said, "it's only three weeks more, old man, and then toJericho with books, and test-tubes, and anatomy! I'll drag you out ofyour study by the scruff of your neck, see if I don't; I'll clap aknapsack on your back, and haul you by sheer force down into Kent.There you shall snuff the ozone, and hold your hat on your head withboth hands on the cliff top. I'll hound you through old castles, andworry you up hills. If I catch so much as a leaflet on chemistry inyour hands, I'll tear it up and send it flying after the sea-gulls. Inshort, I shouldn't like to say what I won't do, I'm so wild at theprospect of a week with you. Of course, the dear old people growl at mefor leaving them in the lurch; but they are glad for us to get the blow;indeed, my pater insists on paying the piper, which is handsome of him.I expect I shall get a day in London on my way, either going orreturning; and if you can put me up at your diggings for the night,we'll have a jolly evening, and you can show me all your haunts."
Tom gasped as he got so far; and well he might.
"I'll tell you all the news when I come. I suppose, by your notwriting, you are saving yours up for me. Ta, ta, old boy, and _aurevoir_ in twenty-one days! Hurrah! Yours ever,--C.N."
Tom, in his misery, crushed the letter up in his fingers and flung itfrom him. If a passing pang shot through his breast, it was followedalmost instantly by other feelings of vexation and shame. One moment hewas ready to sink to the floor in a passion of penitence and remorse--the next, he was ready to resent Charlie's influence over him even at adistance, and to sneer, as Gus and his friend had done, at the boy'sexpense. His brain was too muddled with the excitement and the strangeemotions of that evening to reason with himself; his head ached, and hismind was poisoned.
"What right has the fellow always to be following me up in this way?" heasked. "I'm a fool to stand it. Why can't I do as I choose without hispulling a long face?"
Thus Tom questioned, and thus he proved that it was Charlie's influencemore than his letter that worried him; for what had the latter said,either in the way of exhortation or reproof?
Then he threw himself on the bed, and lay with the wild memory of theevening crowding on his feverish mind. He rose, and, lighting a candle,endeavoured to read; but even his novel was flat and stupid, and in themidst of it he fell asleep, to dream of Gus and his friend all nightlong. Long ere he awoke my senses had left me, for he had neglected towind me up. Next morning he went to lectures as usual. To his fellow-students he appeared the same shy, quiet youth he had always seemed; toMr
Newcome, whom he met in the street, he appeared still as Charlie'schosen and dear friend, ready for his holiday and rejoicing in theprospect of the coming meeting; to his professors he appeared still thesame steady, hard-working student, bent on making his way in hisprofession. But to himself, alas! how altered, how degraded heappeared!
In the midst of his duties his thoughts ran continually--now back to thestrange experience of last evening, now forward to the doubtful eventsof this.
The recollection of the past had lost a good deal of its repulsivenessafter twelve hours' interval, and although he still felt it to be lowand harmful, he yet secretly encouraged his curiosity to revisit theplace of his temptation.
"After all, it did me no harm," said he to himself; "it's not interferedwith my work, or made me feel worse than before. What harm in goingagain to-night? When Charlie comes, and we get away from town, I shalleasily be able to break it off; and besides, Charlie's sure to help toput me square; he always does. Yes; I think I'll just go and see what'son there to-night; it can't be worse than it was. Besides," thought he,glad to seize on any straw of excuse, "I'm bound in honour to play Gus areturn match; it would be ungentlemanly to back out of that."
But why sicken you, dear reader, and myself, with recapitulating the sadworkings of this poor fellow's mind? The more he tried to convincehimself he was doing only a slight wrong, the more his conscience criedout he was running to his ruin. But he stopped his ears and shut hiseyes, and blindly dared his fate. He went that evening to the music-hall. He met Gus and Mortimer, and two other friends. He had takencare to get himself up in a nearer approach to his companions' style.He bought some cigars of his own on the way, and offered them with aless awkward swagger than he had been able to assume the night before.He found himself able to nod familiarly to the barmaid, and fancied thateven Mortimer must have approved of the way in which he ordered aboutthe billiard-marker.
In the match with Gus for half-crowns he lost, though only narrowly--sonarrowly that he was not content, without a further trial of skill, toown himself beaten, and therefore challenged his adversary to a secondmeeting the next evening. Then he watched the others play, and bettedwith Mortimer on the result--and alas! for him, he won.
It was Tom himself who said, at nine o'clock,--
"And now, suppose we see what's going on below."
It was the same stupid, disgusting spectacle, but to Tom it seemed lessrepulsive than he had found it the night before. True, he at times felta return of the old feeling of shame; the blush would occasionallysuffuse his face; but such fits were rare, and he was able to carry themoff more easily with joke and laughter.
"Jack," said Gus in a whisper to Mortimer, as Tom, after accepting avery broad hint to treat the party to spirits, was turning to go, "thatfellow will be a credit to you and me. Did you see how he smacked hislips over the play, and yet all the while wanted to make us think he sawthat sort of thing every day of his life, eh? He's a promising chap,eh, Jack?"
"Wathah," replied Jack, laughing.
Meanwhile Tom, glad enough to get out into the pure air, though in notso desperate a case as the night before, shouldered his way among theloitering company towards the door. He was just emerging into thestreet, when the sound of voices arrested him.
"That's one of our men, isn't it?" said one.
"Why, so it is; I fancied he was anything but a festive blade. Yes; andupon my word he's half seas over!"
Tom had no difficulty in discovering that these hurried words hadreference to him, and turning instinctively towards the voices, he foundhimself face to face with two, reputedly, of the wildest of his fellow-students.
Gladly would he have avoided them; gladly would he have shrunk back andlost himself in the crowd, but it was too late now; he stood discovered.
"How are you?" cried one of the two, as he passed; "isn't your nameDrift?"
Tom stared as if he would have denied his name; but the next moment heput on his lately acquired swagger, and said, "Yes."
"Ah! I thought so; one of the Saint Elizabeth men. Hullo! he's in ahurry, though," added he, as Tom made a dive forward and strode rapidlydown the street.
It was but a step deeper. Well he knew that by to-morrow every one ofhis fellow-students would know of him as a frequenter of that wretchedplace. Well he knew that, as far as they were concerned, the mask ofshyness and reticence under which he had sheltered in their midst wasfor ever pulled away. "One of us," indeed! So truly the very worst ofthem might now speak and think of him. Oh, if he had but considered intime; if he had but stemmed this flood at its source! But it was toolate now.
And he strode home reckless and hardened.
The next day, as he expected, every one seemed to know of his visits tothe music-hall. The two who had seen him accosted him with every showof friendship and intelligence. He was appealed to in the presence ofnearly a dozen of his fellow-students as to the name of one of the lowsongs there given; he was asked if he was going to be there to-night,and he was invited to join this party and that in similar expeditions tosimilar places. And to all these questions and greetings he wasconstrained to reply in keeping with his assumed character of a gayspark. How sick, how vile he felt; yet in that one day how hardened anddesperate he became!
/> It was not in Tom Drift to cry "I have sinned! I will return!" No,once loose from his moorings, he let himself float down the stream,watching the receding banks in mute despair, raising no shout forsuccour, venturing no plunge for safety.
You, who by this time have given him up, disgusted at his weakness, hisvanity, his low instincts, his cowardliness--who say let him wallow inthe mire he has prepared for himself, who know so glibly what you wouldhave done, what you would have said, what you would have felt, rememberonce more that Tom Drift was not such as you; and unfortunately did notknow you. He was not gifted with your heroic resolution or your all-penetrating wisdom. He was an ordinary sinful being of flesh and blood,relying only on his own poor strength; and therefore, reader, try torealise all he went through before you fling your stone.
The toils were closing round him fast. His will had been the first tosuffer, his conscience next. Then with a rush had gone honour,temperance, and purity; and now finally the flimsy rag, his good name,had been torn from him, and he stood revealed a prodigal--and ahypocrite.
Even yet, however, help might have been forthcoming.
"I say, you fellow," said one of his fellow-students this same day,"I've never spoken to you before, and perhaps shall never do so again;but _don't be a fool_!"
"What do you mean?" said Tom sharply.
"Only this, and I can't help it if you are angry, keep clear of thesenew friends of yours, and still more, keep clear of the places theyvisit. If you've been led in once, rather cut off your right hand thanbe led in again, that's all!"
What spirit of infatuation possessed Tom Drift, that he did not springfor very life at the proffered help, that he did not besiege thisfriend, however blunt and outspoken, and compel his timely aid? Alas,for his blindness and folly!
Scowling round at the speaker, he muttered an oath, and said, "What onearth concern is it of yours who my friends are and where I go? Mindyour own business."
And so, thrusting rudely away the hand that might, by God's grace, havesaved him, he swept farther and farther out towards the dark waters.
One final and great hope was still reserved for him, and that wasCharlie's visit. But to Tom that prospect was becoming day by day meredistasteful. As the days wore on, and Tom sunk deeper and deeper intothe snare prepared for him, the thought of a week in the society of oneso upright and pure as Charlie became positively odious. The effort toconceal his new condition would be almost impossible, and yet to admitit to him would be, he felt, to shatter for ever the only friendship hereally prized. He racked his brain for expedients and excuses to avertthe visit, but without avail. If he pleaded illness Charlie would bethe first to rush to his bedside; if he pleaded hard work Charlie wouldinsist on sharing it, or improving its few intervals of rest; if hepleaded disinclination Charlie would devise a hundred other plans toplease him. In short, Charlie's visit was inevitable, and as he lookedforward to it he writhed in misgiving and anxiety.
His visits to the music-hall were meanwhile continuing, and his circleof acquaintance at that evil haunt enlarging. He was duly installed asone of the "fast set" at Saint Elizabeth's, and under its auspices hadalready made his _debut_ at other scenes and places than that of hisfirst transgression. He was known by sight to a score of billiard-markers, potmen, blacklegs, and lower characters still, and was onnodding terms with fully half of them. He had lost considerably morethan he had gained at billiards, and was still further emptying hispurse at cards. Quick work for a few weeks! So quickly and fatally,alas! Will the infection, once admitted, spread, especially in apatient whose moral constitution has undergone so long a course of slowpreparation as Tom's had.
The day came at last. Tom had carefully hidden away his worst books andhis spirits; he had bathed his face half a dozen times, to remove thetraces of last night's intemperance he had gathered together from thecorners where they had for so long lain neglected the books and relicsof his Randlebury days, and restored them to their old places; he hadbrightened me up, and he had taken pains to purify his room from thesmell of rank tobacco; and then he sauntered down to the station.
How my heart beat as the train came into the platform! _His_ head wasout of the window, and _his_ hand was waving to us a hundred yards off;and the next minute he had burst from the carriage, and seized Tom bythe hands.
"How are you, old Tom? I thought we'd never get here; how glad I am toset eyes on you! Isn't this a spree?" And not waiting for Tom's answerhe hauled his traps out of the carriage in a transport of delight.
Still the same jovial, honest, fine-hearted boy.
"Hi! here! some of you," he shouted to a porter, "look after thesethings, will you, and get us a cab. I tell you what, Tom, you've got tocome up home with me first, and we can have dinner there; then I'll comeon to your den, and we can pack our knapsacks and sleep, and then startby the five train to-morrow morning."
Thus he bustled, and thus he brought back the old times on poor TomDrift. Without the heart to speak, he helped his friend to collect hisluggage, and when they were fairly started in the cab he even smiledfeebly in reply to the boy's sallies.
"Tom, you rascal, didn't I tell you you weren't to knock yourself up,eh? Why can't you do what you're told? Why, I declare you're as thinas a hurdle, and as black under the eyes as if you had been fightingwith a collier. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Look at me; doall I can I can't get up an interesting pallor like you, and I'vefretted enough over those conic sections (comic sections Jim alwayscalls them). Never mind! Wait till I get you down to the sea."
And so he rattled on, while Tom leaned back in his seat and winced atevery word.
When they reached Mr Newcome's of course there was a scene of eagerwelcome on one side and boisterous glee on the other. Tom, as he lookedon, sighed, as well he might, and wished he could have been spared thetorture of this day.
Charlie tore himself away from his mother, to drag his friend into thehouse.
"Look at this object!" he cried; "did you ever see such a caution tostudents? If we do nothing else in Kent we shall scare the crows, eh,Tom?"
"Charlie!" exclaimed his mother; "you have come home quite rude! I hopeyou'll excuse him, Mr Drift."
Mr Drift said nothing, and looked and felt extremely miserable.
"He looks really ill, poor fellow!" said Mrs Newcome to her husband."I wonder they allow the students to overwork themselves in that way."
And then they sat down to dinner--a meal as distasteful to Tom as it wasjoyful to Charlie and his parents.