Tom’s lips quivered. The old influence was fast coming back. Already in his mind he was picturing himself telling Charlie all and with his help extricating himself from the slough into which he had sunk. How could he stand unmoved with that voice, familiar by many a memory of simple courageous goodness, again falling on his ear; and that appealing face, one so loved and delighted in, again turned to his?
“I’m afraid it’s something more than ill health, old boy. You’ve something 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 confession cost him, whatever its effect would be on his old schoolfellow’s friendship, Charlie must know all. To him at least he could not play the hypocrite or the deceiver. He had turned from the mantelpiece, his hand was held out to take that of his friend’s, he was just about to speak, 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, old man, you’re in luck. Old Owl has got a supper on to-night, no end of punch, my boy, and he’s expecting you; and afterwards we’re going for a regular night of it to the— Hullo! who’s your friend?”
He caught sight of Charlie at this moment, and for an instant failed to recognise in Tom’s companion the boy whom he had treated so shamefully at 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, of course? Mortimer, this fellow is Drift’s special—up to all the wrinkles, no end of a knowing blade.”
During this brief and rapid salutation Tom and Charlie, I need hardly say, were speechless. One in utter despair, the other in utter rage and astonishment. In both the revulsion of feeling caused by the interruption was almost stupefying, and they stood for a moment staring at the intruders in simple bewilderment.
Tom was the first to find words. His cheeks were white, and his voice almost 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 wish you’d come. It’s too good a thing to miss.”