The Vast Abyss

“Perhaps it will be for the best, Mr Maxted,” said Tom. “It will be a very sharp lesson, and he may make a decent man after all.”

“Nil desperandum,” said the Vicar; “but I am afraid.”

The trial came on, and Tom felt tempted to be present. It was not for the sake of seeing his old enemy in the dock, but out of interest in his fate, which on account of his youth resulted in the mildest sentence given to a prisoner that day; and as soon as he heard it pronounced by the judge, Pete rather startled the court by shouting loudly to Tom, whom he had sat and watched all through —

“Good-bye, Master Tom; God bless yer!”

The next minute he was gone, and somehow the young astronomer went away back home feeling rather sad, though he could not have explained why.

It was about a month later that a legal-looking letter arrived, directed to him, beautifully written in the roundest and crabbiest of engrossing hands.

It was from Pringle, telling how, thanks to Uncle Richard’s letter of recommendation, he was never so happy in his life, for he was in the best of offices, and had the best of masters, who was a real gentleman, with a wonderful knowledge of the law.

“You’d have taken to it, Mr Thomas, I’m sure, if you’d been under him; but one never knows, and it wasn’t to tell you this that I’ve taken the liberty of writing to you. I suppose you know that your uncle sold his practice, but perhaps you don’t know why. I heard all about it from the new man they had. I met him over a case my gov’nor was conducting. It was all along of Mr Samuel, who used to go on awfully. He got at last into a lot of trouble and went off. You’ll never believe it; but it’s a fact. He’s ’listed in the Royal Artillery.”

“And the best place for him,” said Uncle Richard, frowning, when he read the letter in turn; “they will bring him to his senses. By the way, Tom, Professor Denniston is coming down to see our glass; he wants to make one himself double the size, and says he would like our advice.”

“Our advice, uncle?” said Tom, laughing.

“Yes,” said Uncle Richard seriously; “your advice, gained by long experience, will be as valuable as mine.”

One more reminiscence of Tom Blount’s country life, and we will leave him to his star-gazing, well on the high-road to making himself one of those quiet, retiring, scientific men of whom our country has such good cause to be proud.

Heatherleigh and its neighbourhood had been very peaceful for four years, and the word poacher had hardly been heard, when one day, as Tom was in the laboratory, he heard a sharp tapping being given at the yard gate with a stick, and going to the window he started, for there was a tall, dark, smart-looking artillery sergeant, standing looking up, ready to salute him as his face appeared.

“Cousin Sam!” mentally exclaimed Tom, and his face flushed.

“Beg pardon, sir; can I have a word with you?” came in a loud, decisive, military way.

“Why, it’s Pete Warboys!” cried Tom. “Yes, all right; I’ll come down,” and he went below to where the sergeant stood, drawn up stiff, well set-up, and good-looking, waiting for the summons to enter.

“Yes, sir, it’s me,” said the stranger, smiling frankly.

“I shouldn’t have known you, Pete.”

“S’pose not, sir. They rubbed me down, and set me up, and the clothes make such a difference. Besides, it’s over four years since you saw me.”

“Yes – how time goes; but I did not know you had enlisted.”

“No, sir; I never said anything. You see, I came out of prison, and I didn’t want to come back here, for if I had, I couldn’t ha’ kept away from the rabbits and birds, and I should have been in trouble again. You made me want to do better, sir, but I never seemed as if I could; and just then up comes a recruiting sergeant, just as I was hesitating, and I looked at him, and heard what he had to say, how the service would make a man of me.”

“And you took the shilling, Pete?”

“Yes, sir; and the best day’s work I ever did,” said Pete, speaking sharply, decisively, and with a manly carriage about him that made Tom stare. “I was was bombardier in two years, and a month ago I got my sergeant’s stripes.”

He gave a proud glance at the chevrons on his arm as he spoke.

“I’m very glad, Pete.”

“Thankye, sir. I knew you would be. You did it, sir.”

“I?”

“Yes, sir. Mr Maxted used to talk to me, but it was seeing what you were set me thinking so much; but there was no way, and I got into trouble. I’m off to Malta, sir, in a month. On furlough now, and down here to see the old woman.”

“Ah! She’s very feeble now, Pete.”

“Very, sir. She’s awfully old; but she knew me directly, and began to blow me up.”

“What for?”

“Throwing myself away, sir,” cried Pete, with a merry laugh. “Poor old soul, though, she knows no better. Good-bye, sir. I shall see you again. I read your name in the paper the other day about finding a comet, and it made me laugh to think of the old days. Good-day, sir. I’m going to see Mr Maxted. I find he has been very good to the poor old granny since I’ve been away.”

“And some people say that the army’s a bad school,” said Mr Maxted that night at dinner, when Uncle Richard and Tom were spending the evening at the Vicarage. “If they would only do for all rough young men what they have done for Pete Warboys, it would be a grand thing. But I always did have hopes of him, eh, Tom?”

“Ah,” said Uncle Richard, “it’s a long lane that has no turning.”

“I say, Master Tom,” cried David, who never could see that his young master had grown a man, “did you see Pete Warboys? There: if anybody had took a hoath and swore it, I wouldn’t ha’ believed there could ha’ been such a change. Here, look at him. Six foot high, and as straight as a harrer. ’Member giving him the stick over the wall?”

“Ah, Mr David!” cried Pete, marching up. “How are the apples? – Beg pardon, Mr Blount, I forgot to say something to you last night.”

“Yes; what is it?” said Tom, walking aside with the sergeant.

“There’s curious things happen sometimes, sir; more curious than people think for.”

“Yes, often in science, Pete,” said Tom.

“Dessay, sir; but I mean in every-day life. Your cousin, sir.”

“Yes. What about him?” cried Tom eagerly.

“Him that was down here, sir, and I fetched the ladder for to get in yonder.”

“Then it was you, Pete?”

“Oh yes, sir; I helped him. I was a nice boy then. You’ll hardly believe it, but he’s in my company – a soldier. Private R.A.”

“My cousin?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And is he getting on well?” said Tom.

“Hum! ha!” said the sergeant stiffly. “He gets into trouble too often. I don’t think he’ll earn his stripes just yet. Good-morning, sir, and good-bye. But – ”

“Yes, Pete.”

“Would you mind shaking hands, sir – once?” Tom’s hand darted out.