CHAPTER XVIII.
Poor Tom! It was a dark to-morrow to which he had invited Aleck, and darker still the days that followed, that he had thought would be full of holiday enjoyment! Could it be true that his father was gone? Gone! What did that mean! Oh, if it only were not true! If every one were mistaken, or had told him false!
It seemed to him he could never see the boys again. But Aleck would not leave him to that very long, and Tom really felt the first touch of comfort when he heard him asking for him at the door.
“Oh, but you don’t know anything about it, Aleck; you don’t understand! No one can understand, until it come, how terrible it seems.”
“And isn’t that the very way I can understand?”
Tom stared at him with wide eyes a moment.
“Oh, I forgot! How could I forget! It was horrid in me, but it seems as if I could not remember anything or know anything except this one terrible feeling that is everywhere through the house. And it doesn’t seem as if it could ever be any better!”
“It will be better,” said Aleck, but Tom only shook his head. “Don’t you suppose it was just as terrible in the houses that the Lord Jesus came into long ago, because there was trouble in them?”
“I don’t know,” said Tom, hesitating a little, for he was not used to talking of such things, and didn’t know exactly where he was; “but he came to bring people back to life, then, and he doesn’t do that now.”
“No, he doesn’t, but he comes just as close and just as much to bring comfort as he did then. Suppose he should come so close and speak so tenderly that you could almost feel his heart beating against yours, wouldn’t that make it better? And if he should promise he would never go away, but would watch you even more faithfully than your father could, and help you along to make the man he hoped to see you, wouldn’t that make it better?”
“Perhaps so,” said Tom, not very clear yet that all this amounted to anything more than talking.
“I tell you there’s no mistake,” said Aleck. “There are just two or three things, it seems to me, that we have got to have before we can be happy, taking us just as we are; we want some one to love and some one to love us; we want something to do that’s worth doing, and we want our own affairs to be looked out for at the same time.”
“But I’ve got to look out for myself, now,” said poor Tom.
“I know it, Tom, and yet you haven’t, after all. If your father had been here when you went to college, didn’t you expect to send to him when you needed anything, or when you didn’t see just what ’twas best to do about anything? And wouldn’t that have left you free to go right along with your work, and interest yourself for other people, instead of all the time worrying about yourself? And can’t you do just the same with the Lord?”
“But I loved him so! I miss him so!” cried poor little Tom, breaking down altogether.
“I know; that comes hard, and there’s no getting away from it; but I tell you, Tom, it isn’t going to be such a very great while, and I don’t believe he’s so very far off either. It may be there’s only a veil between, and who knows but he can see through it as plainly as if wasn’t there at all? And you’ll find lots to do; that’s one of the greatest things after all. Just think what you can come to be in taking his place at home, besides something for somebody outside, every day of your life, if you’re only looking out for it. And there’s no one to say he wont see it; and however that may be, there’s One that will be sure to, and think a good deal of it too.”
Tom didn’t say much, but he had his own times of going over in his mind all Aleck had said, until things did begin to seem a little better after a while, as Aleck had promised, and going back to school did not seem so very terrible as he had thought; and as the year came once more to a close, the thought of the new step into college studies really looked bright and tempting.
All but the freshman woes, in the way of hazing and all that sort of thing. Poor Tom hadn’t yet got over his dread of being snubbed or run upon, only as he had been in the higher class the last year, and there was no one left in the school who was quite so endlessly doing it since Hal had left. He had almost forgotten how uncomfortable it was; at any rate, he was sure he never could see any worse times than some he had had with Hal, and he had lived through those somehow.
So he was making the most of his holidays, and the little interval of deciding what came next; and going into Halliday’s now and then, for a few moments with Aleck and Thorndyke, was one of the great resources of the time.
He came gayly out one day, to see some one beckoning to him, and reining in his horse close by. Ah, that was Mr. Willoughby, his guardian, and Tom ran to the chaise.
“Going towards home, Haggarty?” he said. “Suppose you jump in, and we drive out together. I want to talk to you about one or two matters, if you’re not aiming in another direction.”
Tom sprang in, only too gladly. He should hear something about going to college, he was sure.
“Well, and how does it seem to be a free man once more?” he asked, as Tom took his seat and they started off.
“Prime,” said Tom, “only if a free man never has anything to do, I shouldn’t like it to last very long.”
“Good,” said Mr. Willoughby, laughing, “and that’s just the very point. How long should you call long enough?”
“I don’t know,” said Tom. “I suppose I ought to enter college this Commencement, if I’m going at all this year; and if I wait till next, I ought to be studying or working at something before a great while.”
“And you are sure of going this year or next? Could you not think of anything but college and be satisfied?”
Tom started.
“My father wished me to go to college.”
“I know he did; but, Tom, he is not here now to send you. You have been a brave fellow this last year, and I know you will be brave about what I have to tell you. I have said nothing about money-matters so far, for I wished you to get through school with a quiet mind; but perhaps it is best now to let you understand just how things are. There were some embarrassments in your father’s affairs that he could have overcome if he had lived a year or two longer, but as things were left, they have made a great deal of trouble; and in fact, there does not seem to be the means of carrying out his plans for you. I’m afraid you’ll have to go to work, my boy, without waiting for college or Germany or anything of the kind; and the sooner you can make a man of yourself and get a start in the world, the better it will be for the rest at home.”
Tom took hold of the side of the chaise; it seemed to him that the whole of life had been knocked out from under his feet.
“I can’t think you’ll find business so very bad,” went on Mr. Willoughby, “and I think you’ve got the making of a good business man in you; all you want is a fair chance, and a good send off, to begin with, and that I think I’ve found for you, by good luck. I’ve been making some proposals to the Fenimores, and they are ready to take you in there, and see what you can do for yourself, as soon as you can make up your mind that you’re ready. It isn’t every day that a chance like that opens to a boy of your age, and I rather think you’ll decide to make the most of it.”
Poor Tom! If what Aleck had said to him that day had been a comfort before, he needed to get closer hold of it yet this time.
“You’ll find lots to do, Tom, and that is one of the greatest things, after all; and there’s One that will be sure to see, and think a good deal of it, too.”
He kept saying it over to himself, and the rest of what Aleck had said about “some one caring for him, while he went about his work for other people.” And he needed it all; “pretty tough,” Aleck called the sudden change in his prospects, when he heard of it, but even then he hadn’t the least idea how Tom dreaded coming so directly in Hal’s way as he knew he should, every day. That seemed to be the last and bitterest drop in the cup! Not that Hal wasn’t a good fellow; he knew he was, and that he would do him many a kind turn before the year was out, but—pshaw! he must get over being such a goose!