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That something was no longer there, and its removal had achieved what no medical man could have done, and so quickly that it seemed to be like a miracle. A week passed, and two answers to letters of inquiry came down to Heatherleigh, both saying that Uncle James was improving fast. Another week, and only one letter came, with the same report.
Uncle Richard came back late the second night after the robbery, tired out, and glad to go to bed, so that nothing was said respecting the events at the observatory till the next morning at breakfast. "Hah! no place like home, Mrs Fidler," he exclaimed. "London hotels are all very well, but I'm always glad to get back to Heatherleigh."
It seems to me that by accident you have gone the right way to work to make a change in Pete Warboys. You have evidently made him respect you, by showing him that you were the better man." By this time they were getting pretty close to Heatherleigh, and the Vicar gave Tom's arm a grip. "I'm afraid I shall not see you at church next Sunday, Tom," he said, with a smile.
He was ready in his excitement to renew his struggle with the lad, in spite of a disparity of years and size; but the old woman was too much, and he did not breathe freely till he was some distance away from the cottages, and on his way back to Heatherleigh. The first person he encountered was his uncle, who was down the garden ready to greet him with
And time went on, with Tom plunging more and more deeply into the grand science, and rapidly becoming his uncle's right-hand man, helping him with the papers he sent up to the learned societies, till in the course of a couple of years people began to talk of the discoveries made with the big telescope at Heatherleigh. Then came a morning about two years and a half after the terrible storm.
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.
Another experience of haunting by the same animal was told me by a Chelsea artist who assured me it was absolutely true. I append it as nearly as possible in his own words. Heralds of Death "It is many years ago," he began, "since I came into my property, Heatherleigh Hall, near Carlisle, Cumberland.
But all the same Tom never showed his weariness, but tugged and butted the invalid chair through the deep sand of the lanes, and sat on banks close by it reading the newspaper to his uncle in the most patient way, till the invalid was tired, and then dragged him back to Heatherleigh to dinner or tea.
"Oh, I'm a dreadful wretch; and you did not know either, that within five-and-thirty miles of London as the crow flies, there is as much ignorance and superstition as there was a couple of hundred years or so ago, when they burnt people for being witches and wizards, and the like. There, now look; you can just see Heatherleigh there. No; too late it's gone." Tom felt puzzled.
For some minutes not a word more was said; then both rose, as if a great weight had been lifted away. "Good-night, Tom." "Good-night, uncle." And those two were closer together in heart than they had ever before been, since Heatherleigh had become Tom Blount's home. Uncle Richard made no further reference to the past day's business, but Tom noticed that he looked very serious and dejected.
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