robert falconer- 第2部分

Not　a　single　member　of　the　animal　creation　was　to　be　seen　in　it；

not　a　pair　of　eyes　to　be　discovered　looking　out　at　any　of　the

windows　opposite。　　The　sole　motion　was　the　occasional　drift　of　a

vapour…like　film　of　white　powder；　which　the　wind　would　lift　like

dust　from　the　snowy　carpet　that　covered　the　street；　and　wafting　it

along　for　a　few　yards；　drop　again　to　its　repose；　till　another

stronger　gust；　prelusive　of　the　wind　about　to　rise　at　sun…down；a

wind　cold　and　bitter　as　deathwould　rush　over　the　street；　and　raise

a　denser　cloud　of　the　white　water…dust　to　sting　the　face　of　any

improbable　person　who　might　meet　it　in　its　passage。　　It　was　a　keen；

knife…edged　frost；　even　in　the　house；　and　what　Robert　saw　to　make

him　stand　at　the　desolate　window；　I　do　not　know；　and　I　believe　he

could　not　himself　have　told。　　There　he　did　stand；　however；　for　the

space　of　five　minutes　or　so；　with　nothing　better　filling　his　outer

eyes　at　least　than　a　bald　spot　on　the　crown　of　the　street；　whence

the　wind　had　swept　away　the　snow；　leaving　it　brown　and　bare；　a　spot

of　March　in　the　middle　of　January。



He　heard　the　town　drummer　in　the　distance；　and　let　the　sound　invade

his　passive　ears；　till　it　crossed　the　opening　of　the　street；　and

vanished　'down　the　town。'



'There's　Dooble　Sanny；'　he　said　to　himself'wi'　siccan　cauld　han's；

'at　he's　playin'　upo'　the　drum…heid　as　gin　he　was　loupin'　in　a　bowie

（leaping　in　a　cask）。'



Then　he　stood　silent　once　more；　with　a　look　as　if　anything　would　be

welcome　to　break　the　monotony。



While　he　stood　a　gentle　timorous　tap　came　to　the　door；　so　gentle

indeed　that　Betty　in　the　kitchen　did　not　hear　it；　or　she；　tall　and

Roman…nosed　as　she　was；　would　have　answered　it　before　the

long…legged　dreamer　could　have　reached　the　door；　though　he　was　not

above　three　yards　from　it。　　In　lack　of　anything　better　to　do；　Robert

stalked　to　the　summons。　　As　he　opened　the　door；　these　words　greeted

him：



'Is　Robert　ateh！　it's　Bob　himsel'！　　Bob；　I'm　byous　（exceedingly）

cauld。'



'What　for　dinna　ye　gang　hame；　than？'



'What　for　wasna　ye　at　the　schuil　the　day？'



'I　spier　ae　queston　at　you；　and　ye　answer　me　wi'　anither。'



'Weel；　I　hae　nae　hame　to　gang　till。'



'Weel；　and　I　had　a　sair　heid　（a　headache）。　　But　whaur's　yer　hame

gane　till　than？'



'The　hoose　is　there　a'　richt；　but　whaur　my　mither　is　I　dinna　ken。

The　door's　lockit；　an'　Jeames　Jaup；　they　tell　me　's　tane　awa'　the

key。　　I　doobt　my　mither's　awa'　upo'　the　tramp　again；　and　what's　to

come　o'　me；　the　Lord　kens。'



'What's　this　o'　't？'　interposed　a　severe　but　not　unmelodious　voice；

breaking　into　the　conversation　between　the　two　boys；　for　the　parlour

door　had　opened　without　Robert's　hearing　it；　and　Mrs。　Falconer；　his

grandmother；　had　drawn　near　to　the　speakers。



'What's　this　o'　't？'　she　asked　again。　'Wha's　that　ye're　conversin'

wi'　at　the　door；　Robert？　　Gin　it　be　ony　decent　laddie；　tell　him　to

come　in；　and　no　stan'　at　the　door　in　sic　a　day　's　this。'



As　Robert　hesitated　with　his　reply；　she　looked　round　the　open　half

of　the　door；　but　no　sooner　saw　with　whom　he　was　talking　than　her

tone　changed。　　By　this　time　Betty；　wiping　her　hands　in　her　apron；

had　completed　the　group　by　taking　her　stand　in　the　kitchen　door。



'Na；　na；'　said　Mrs。　Falconer。　'We　want　nane　sic…like　here。　　What

does　he　want　wi'　you；　Robert？　　Gie　him　a　piece；　Betty；　and　lat　him

gang。Eh；　sirs！　the　callant　hasna　a　stockin'…fit　upo'　'imand　in

sic　weather！'



For；　before　she　had　finished　her　speech；　the　visitor；　as　if　in

terror　of　her　nearer　approach；　had　turned　his　back；　and　literally

showed　her；　if　not　a　clean　pair　of　heels；　yet　a　pair　of　naked　heels

from　between　the　soles　and　uppers　of　his　shoes：　if　he　had　any

stockings　at　all；　they　ceased　before　they　reached　his　ankles。



'What　ails　him　at　me？'　continued　Mrs。　Falconer；　'that　he　rins　as　gin

I　war　a　boodie？　　But　it's　nae　wonner　he　canna　bide　the　sicht　o'　a

decent　body；　for　he's　no　used　till　't。　　What　does　he　want　wi'　you；

Robert？'



But　Robert　had　a　reason　for　not　telling　his　grandmother　what　the　boy

had　told　him：　he　thought　the　news　about　his　mother　would　only　make

her　disapprove　of　him　the　more。　　In　this　he　judged　wrong。　　He　did

not　know　his　grandmother　yet。



'He's　in　my　class　at　the　schuil；'　said　Robert；　evasively。



'Him？　　What　class；　noo？'



Robert　hesitated　one　moment；　but；　compelled　to　give　some　answer；

said；　with　confidence；



'The　Bible…class。'



'I　thocht　as　muckle！　　What　gars　ye　play　at　hide　and　seek　wi'　me？　　Do

ye　think　I　dinna　ken　weel　eneuch　there's　no　a　lad　or　a　lass　at　the

schuil　but　's　i'　the　Bible…class？　　What　wants　he　here？'



'Ye　hardly　gae　him　time　to　tell　me；　grannie。　　Ye　frichtit　him。'



'Me　fricht　him！　　What　for　suld　I　fricht　him；　laddie？　　I'm　no　sic

ferlie　（wonder）　that　onybody　needs　be　frichtit　at　me。'



The　old　lady　turned　with　visible；　though　by　no　means　profound

offence　upon　her　calm　forehead；　and　walking　back　into　her　parlour；

where　Robert　could　see　the　fire　burning　right　cheerily；　shut　the

door；　and　left　him　and　Betty　standing　together　in　the　transe。　　The

latter　returned　to　the　kitchen；　to　resume　the　washing　of　the

dinner…dishes；　and　the　former　returned　to　his　post　at　the　window。

He　had　not　stood　more　than　half　a　minute；　thinking　what　was　to　be

done　with　his　school…fellow　deserted　of　his　mother；　when　the　sound

of　a　coach…horn　drew　his　attention　to　the　right；　down　the　street；

where　he　could　see　part　of　the　other　street　which　crossed　it　at

right　angles；　and　in　which　the　gable　of　the　house　stood。　　A　minute

after；　the　mail　came　in　sightscarlet；　spotted　with　snowand

disappeared；　going　up　the　hill　towards　the　chief　hostelry　of　the

town；　as　fast　as　four　horses；　tired　with　the　bad　footing　they　had

had　through　the　whole　of　the　stage；　could　draw　it　after　them。　　By

this　time　the　twilight　was　falling；　for　though　the　sun　had　not　yet

set；　miles　of　frozen　vapour　came　between　him　and　this　part　of　the

world；　and　his　light　was　never　very　powerful　so　far　north　at　this

season　of　the　year。



Robert　turned　into　the　kitchen；　and　began　to　put　on　his　shoes。　　He

had　made　up　his　mind　what　to　do。



'Ye're　never　gaein'　oot；　Robert？'　said　Betty；　in　a　hoarse　tone　of

expostulation。



''Deed　am　I；　Betty。　　What　for　no？'



'You　'at's　been　in　a'　day　wi'　a　sair　heid！　　I'll　jist　gang　benn　the

hoose　and　tell　the　mistress；　and　syne　we'll　see　what　she'll　please

to　say　till　't。'



'Ye'll　do　naething　o'　the　kin'；　Betty。　　Are　ye　gaein'　to　turn

clash…pyet　（tell…tale）　at　your　age？'



'What　ken　ye　aboot　my　age？　　There's　never　a　man…body　i'　the　toon

kens　aught　aboot　my　age。'



'It's　ower　muckle　for　onybody　to　min'　upo'　（remember）；　is　't；

Betty？'



'Dinna　be　ill…tongued；　Robert；　or　I'll　jist　gang　benn　the　hoose　to

the　mistress。'



'Betty；　wha　began　wi'　bein'　ill…tongued？　　Gin　ye　tell　my　grandmither

that　I　gaed　oot　the　nicht；　I'll　gang　to　the　schuilmaister　o'

Muckledrum；　and　get　a　sicht　o'　the　kirstenin'　buik；　an'　gin　yer　name

binna　there；　I'll　tell　ilkabody　I　meet　'at　oor　Betty　was　never

kirstened；　and　that'll　be　a　sair　affront；　Betty。'



'Hoot！　was　there　ever　sic　a　laddie！'　said　Betty；　attempting　to　laugh

it　off。　'Be　sure　ye　be　back　afore　tay…time；　'cause　yer　grannie　'ill

be　speirin'　efter　ye；　and　ye　wadna　hae　me　lee　aboot　ye？'



'I　wad　hae　naebody　lee　about　me。　　Ye　jist　needna　lat　on　'at　ye　hear

her。　　Ye　can　be　deif　eneuch　when　ye　like；　Betty。　　But　I　s'　be　back

afore　tay…time；　or　come　on　the　waur。'



Betty；　who　was　in　far　greater　fear　of　her　age　being　discovered　than

of　being　unchristianized　in　the　search；　though　the　fact　was　that　she

knew　nothing　certain　about　the　matter；　and　had　no　desire　to　be

enlightened；　feeling　as　if　she　was　thus　left　at　liberty　to　hint　what

she　pleased；Betty；　I　say；　never　had　any　intention　of　going　'benn

the　hoose　to　the　mistress。'　　For　the　threat　was　merely　the　rod　of

terror　which　she　thought　it　convenient　to　hold　over　the　back　of　the

boy；　whom　she　always　supposed　to　be　about　some　mischief　except　he

were　in　her　own　presence　and　visibly　reading　a　book：　if　he　were

reading　aloud；　so　much　the　better。　　But　Robert　likewise　kept　a　rod

for　his　defence；　and　that　was　Betty's　age；　which　he　had　discovered

to　be　such　a　precious　secret　that　one　would　have　thought　her　virtue

depended　in　some　cabalistic　manner　upon　the　concealment　of　it。　　And；

certainly；　nature　herself　seemed　to　favour　Betty's　weakness；　casting

such　a　mist　about　the　number　of　her　years　as　the　goddesses　of　old

were　wont　to　cast　about　a　wounded　favourite；　for　some　said　Betty　was

forty；　others　said　she　was　sixty…five；　and；　in　fact；　almost

everybody　who　knew　her　had　a　different　belief　on　the　matter。



By　this　time　Robert　had　conquered　the　difficulty　of　induing　boots　as

hard　as　a　thorough　wetting　and　as　thorough　a　drying　could　make　them；

and　now　stood　prepared　to　go。　　His　object　in　setting　out　was　to　find

the　boy　whom　his　grandmother　had　driven　from　the　door　with　a　hastier

and　more　abject　flight　than　she　had　in　the　least　intended。　　But；　if

his　grandmother　should　miss　him；　as　Betty　suggested；　and　inquire

where　he　had　been；　what　was　he　to　say？　　He　did　not　mind　misleading

his　grannie；　but　he　had　a　great　objection　to　telling　her　a　lie。　　His

grandmother　herself　delivered　him　from　this　difficulty。



'Robert；　come　here；'　she　called　from　the　parlour　door。　　And　Robert

obeyed。



'Is　't　dingin'　on；　Robert？'　she　asked。



'No；　grannie；　it's　only　a　starnie　o'　drift。'



The　meaning　of　this　was　that　there　was　no　fresh　snow　falling；　or

beating　on；　only　a　little　surface　snow　blowing　about。



'Weel；　jist　pit　yer　shune　on；　man；　and　rin　up　to　Miss　Naper's　upo'

the　Squaur；　and　say　to　Miss　Naper；　wi'　my　compliments；　that　I　wad　be

sair　obleeged　till　her　gin　she　wad　len'　me　that　fine　receipt　o'　hers

for　crappit　heids；　and　I'll　sen'　't　back　safe　the　morn's　mornin'。

Rin；　noo。'



This　commission　fel