robert falconer- 第111部分

the　action　it　involves；　it　is　the　having　to　turn；　be　different；　and

do　differently；　that　they　shrink　from；　and　they　have　been　taught　to

believe　that　this　will　not　be　required　of　them　therein　that　awful

refuge　of　the　will…less。　　I　do　not　say　they　think　thus：　I　only　say

their　dim；　vague；　feeble　feelings　are　such　as；　if　they　grew　into

thought；　would　take　this　form。　　But　tell　them　that　the　fire　of　God

without　and　within　them　will　compel　them　to　bethink　themselves；　that

the　vision　of　an　open　door　beyond　the　smoke　and　the　flames　will　ever

urge　them　to　call　up　the　ice…bound　will；　that　it　may　obey；　that　the

torturing　spirit　of　God　in　them　will　keep　their　consciences　awake；

not　to　remind　them　of　what　they　ought　to　have　done；　but　to　tell　them

what　they　must　do　now；　and　hell　will　no　longer　fascinate　them。　　Tell

them　that　there　is　no　refuge　from　the　compelling　Love　of　God；　save

that　Love　itselfthat　He　is　in　hell　too；　and　that　if　they　make

their　bed　in　hell　they　shall　not　escape　him；　and　then；　perhaps；　they

will　have　some　true　presentiment　of　the　worm　that　dieth　not　and　the

fire　that　is　not　quenched。



'Father；　it　will　be　of　use　in　hell；'　said　Robert。　'God　will　give　you

no　rest　even　there。　　You　will　have　to　repent　some　day；　I　do

believeif　not　now　under　the　sunshine　of　heaven；　then　in　the

torture　of　the　awful　world　where　there　is　no　light　but　that　of　the

conscience。　　Would　it　not　be　better　and　easier　to　repent　now；　with

your　wife　waiting　for　you　in　heaven；　and　your　mother　waiting　for　you

on　earth？'



Will　it　be　credible　to　my　reader；　that　Andrew　interrupted　his　son

with　the　words；



'Robert；　it　is　dreadful　to　hear　you　talk　like　that。　　Why；　you　don't

believe　in　the　Bible！'



His　words　will　be　startling　to　one　who　has　never　heard　the　lips　of　a

hoary　old　sinner　drivel　out　religion。　　To　me　they　are　not　so

startling　as　the　words　of　Christian　women　and　bishops　of　the　Church

of　England；　when　they　say　that　the　doctrine　of　the　everlasting

happiness　of　the　righteous　stands　or　falls　with　the　doctrine　of　the

hopeless　damnation　of　the　wicked。　　Can　it　be　that　to　such　the　word

is　everything；　the　spirit　nothing？　　No。　It　is　only　that　the　devil　is

playing　a　very　wicked　prank；　not　with　them；　but　in　them：　they　are

pluming　themselves　on　being　selfish　after　a　godly　sort。



'I　do　believe　the　Bible；　father；'　returned　Robert；　'and　have　ordered

my　life　by　it。　　If　I　had　not　believed　the　Bible；　I　fear　I　should

never　have　looked　for　you。　　But　I　won't　dispute　about　it。　　I　only

say　I　believe　that　you　will　be　compelled　to　repent　some　day；　and

that　now　is　the　best　time。　　Then；　you　will　not　only　have　to　repent；

but　to　repent　that　you　did　not　repent　now。　　And　I　tell　you；　father；

that　you　shall　go　to　my　grandmother。'









CHAPTER　XVI。



CHANGE　OF　SCENE。



But　various　reasons　combined　to　induce　Falconer　to　postpone　yet　for

a　period　their　journey　to　the　North。　　Not　merely　did　his　father

require　an　unremitting　watchfulness；　which　it　would　be　difficult　to

keep　up　in　his　native　place　amongst　old　friends　and　acquaintances；

but　his　health　was　more　broken　than　he　had　at　first　supposed；　and

change　of　air　and　scene　without　excitement　was　most　desirable。　　He

was　anxious　too　that　the　change　his　mother　must　see　in　him　should　be

as　little　as　possible　attributable　to　other　causes　than　those　that

years　bring　with　them。　　To　this　was　added　that　his　own　health　had

begun　to　suffer　from　the　watching　and　anxiety　he　had　gone　through；

and　for　his　father's　sake；　as　well　as　for　the　labour　which　yet　lay

before　him；　he　would　keep　that　as　sound　as　he　might。　　He　wrote　to

his　grandmother　and　explained　the　matter。　　She　begged　him　to　do　as

he　thought　best；　for　she　was　so　happy　that　she　did　not　care　if　she

should　never　see　Andrew　in　this　world：　it　was　enough　to　die　in　the

hope　of　meeting　him　in　the　other。　　But　she　had　no　reason　to　fear

that　death　was　at　hand；　for；　although　much　more　frail；　she　felt　as

well　as　ever。



By　this　time　Falconer　had　introduced　me　to　his　father。　　I　found　him

in　some　things　very　like　his　son；　in　others；　very　different。　　His

manners　were　more　polished；　his　pleasure　in　pleasing　much　greater：

his　humanity　had　blossomed　too　easily；　and　then　run　to　seed。　　Alas；

to　no　seed　that　could　bear　fruit！　　There　was　a　weak　expression　about

his　moutha　wavering　interrogation：　it　was　so　different　from　the

firmly…closed　portals　whence　issued　the　golden　speech　of　his　son！

He　had　a　sly；　sidelong　look　at　times；　whether　of　doubt　or　cunning；

I　could　not　always　determine。　　His　eyes；　unlike　his　son's；　were　of　a

light　blue；　and　hazy　both　in　texture　and　expression。　　His　hands　were

long…fingered　and　tremulous。　　He　gave　your　hand　a　sharp　squeeze；　and

the　same　instant　abandoned　it　with　indifference。　　I　soon　began　to

discover　in　him　a　tendency　to　patronize　any　one　who　showed　him　a

particle　of　respect　as　distinguished　from　common…place　civility。

But　under　all　outward　appearances　it　seemed　to　me　that　there　was　a

change　going　on：　at　least　being　very　willing　to　believe　it；　I　found

nothing　to　render　belief　impossible。



He　was　very　fond　of　the　flute　his　son　had　given　him；　and　on　that

sweetest　and　most　expressionless　of　instruments　he　played

exquisitely。



One　evening　when　I　called　to　see　them；　Falconer　said；



'We　are　going　out　of　town　for　a　few　weeks；　Gordon：　will　you　go　with

us？'



'I　am　afraid　I　can't。'



'Why？　　You　have　no　teaching　at　present；　and　your　writing　you　can　do

as　well　in　the　country　as　in　town。'



'That　is　true；　but　still　I　don't　see　how　I　can。　　I　am　too　poor　for

one　thing。'



'Between　you　and　me　that　is　nonsense。'



'Well；　I　withdraw　that；'　I　said。　'But　there　is　so　much　to　be　done；

specially　as　you　will　be　away；　and　Miss　St　John　is　at　the　Lakes。'



'That　is　all　very　true；　but　you　need　a　change。　　I　have　seen　for　some

weeks　that　you　are　failing。　　Mind；　it　is　our　best　work　that　He

wants；　not　the　dregs　of　our　exhaustion。　　I　hope　you　are　not　of　the

mind　of　our　friend　Mr。　Watts；　the　curate　of　St。　Gregory's。'



'I　thought　you　had　a　high　opinion　of　Mr。　Watts；'　I　returned。



'So　I　have。　　I　hope　it　is　not　necessary　to　agree　with　a　man　in

everything　before　we　can　have　a　high　opinion　of　him。'



'Of　course　not。　　But　what　is　it　you　hope　I　am　not　of　his　opinion

in？'



'He　seems　ambitious　of　killing　himself　with　workof　wearing　himself

out　in　the　service　of　his　masterand　as　quickly　as　possible。　　A

good　deal　of　that　kind　of　thing　is　a　mere　holding　of　the　axe　to　the

grindstone；　not　a　lifting　of　it　up　against　thick　trees。　　Only　he

won't　be　convinced　till　it　comes　to　the　helve。　　I　met　him　the　other

day；　he　was　looking　as　white　as　his　surplice。　　I　took　upon　me　to

read　him　a　lecture　on　the　holiness　of　holidays。　〃I　can't　leave　my

poor；〃　he　said。　〃Do　you　think　God　can't　do　without　you？〃　　I　asked。

〃Is　he　so　weak　that　he　cannot　spare　the　help　of　a　weary　man？　　But　I

think　he　must　prefer　quality　to　quantity；　and　for　healthy　work　you

must　be　healthy　yourself。　　How　can　you　be　the　visible　sign　of　the

Christ…present　amongst　men；　if　you　inhabit　an　exhausted；　irritable

brain？　　Go　to　God's　infirmary　and　rest　a　while。　　Bring　back　health

from　the　country　to　those　that　cannot　go　to　it。　　If　on　the　way　it　be

transmuted　into　spiritual　forms；　so　much　the　better。　　A　little　more

of　God　will　make　up　for　a　good　deal　less　of　you。'



'What　did　he　say　to　that？'



'He　said　our　Lord　died　doing　the　will　of　his　Father。　　I　told

him〃Yes；　when　his　time　was　come；　not　sooner。　　Besides；　he　often

avoided　both　speech　and　action。〃　〃Yes；〃　he　answered；　〃but　he　could

tell　when；　and　we　cannot。〃　〃Therefore；〃　I　rejoined；　〃you　ought　to

accept　your　exhaustion　as　a　token　that　your　absence　will　be　the　best

thing　for　your　people。　　If　there　were　no　God；　then　perhaps　you　ought

to　work　till　you　drop　down　deadI　don't　know。〃'



'Is　he　gone　yet？'



'No。　He　won't　go。　　I　couldn't　persuade　him。'



'When　do　you　go？'



'To…morrow。'



'I　shall　be　ready；　if　you　really　mean　it。'



'That's　an　if　worthy　only　of　a　courtier。　　There　may　be　much　virtue

in　an　if；　as　Touchstone　says；　for　the　taking　up　of　a　quarrel；　but

that　if　is　bad　enough　to　breed　one；'　said　Falconer；　laughing。　'Be　at

the　Paddington　Station　at　noon　to…morrow。　　To　tell　the　whole　truth；

I　want　you　to　help　me　with　my　father。'



This　last　was　said　at　the　door　as　he　showed　me　out。



In　the　afternoon　we　were　nearing　Bristol。　　It　was　a　lovely　day　in

October。　　Andrew　had　been　enjoying　himself；　but　it　was　evidently

rather　the　pleasure　of　travelling　in　a　first…class　carriage　like　a

gentleman　than　any　delight　in　the　beauty　of　heaven　and　earth。　　The

country　was　in　the　rich　sombre　dress　of　decay。



'Is　it　not　remarkable；'　said　my　friend　to　me；　'that　the　older　I

grow；　I　find　autumn　affecting　me　the　more　like　spring？'



'I　am　thankful　to　say；'　interposed　Andrew；　with　a　smile　in　which　was

mingled　a　shade　of　superiority；　'that　no　change　of　the　seasons　ever

affects　me。'



'Are　you　sure　you　are　right　in　being　thankful　for　that；　father？'

asked　his　son。



His　father　gazed　at　him　for　a　moment；　seemed　to　bethink　himself

after　some　feeble　fashion　or　other；　and　rejoined；



'Well；　I　must　confess　I　did　feel　a　touch　of　the　rheumatism　this

morning。'



How　I　pitied　Falconer！　　Would　he　ever　see　of　the　travail　of　his　soul

in　this　man？　　But　he　only　smiled　a　deep　sweet　smile；　and　seemed　to

be　thinking　divine　things　in　that　great　head　of　his。



At　Bristol　we　went　on　board　a　small　steamer；　and　at　night　were

landed　at　a　little　village　on　the　coast　of　North　Devon。　　The　hotel

to　which　we　went　was　on　the　steep　bank　of　a　tumultuous　little　river；

which　tumbled　past　its　foundation　of　rock；　like　a　troop　of　watery

horses　galloping　by　with　ever…dissolving　limbs。　　The　elder　Falconer

retired　almost　as　soon　as　we　had　had　supper。　　My　friend　and　I

lighted　our　pipes；　and　sat　by　the　open　window；　for　although　the

autumn　was　so