robert falconer- 第26部分

stately　kindness。　　Then　they　went　out　again；　and　passed　the　windows

of　Captain　Forsyth's　house。　　Mary　St。　John　was　playing。　　They　stood

for　a　moment；　almost　involuntarily；　to　listen。　　She　ceased。



'That's　the　music　of　the　spheres；'　said　Ericson；　in　a　low　voice；　as

they　moved　on。



'Will　you　tell　me　what　that　means？'　asked　Robert。　'I've　come　upon　't

ower　an'　ower　in　Milton。'



Thereupon　Ericson　explained　to　him　what　Pythagoras　had　taught　about

the　stars　moving　in　their　great　orbits　with　sounds　of　awful　harmony；

too　grandly　loud　for　the　human　organ　to　vibrate　in　response　to　their

musichence　unheard　of　men。　　And　Ericson　spoke　as　if　he　believed

it。　　But　after　he　had　spoken；　his　face　grew　sadder　than　ever；　and；

as　if　to　change　the　subject；　he　said；　abruptly；



'What　a　fine　old　lady　your　grandmother　is；　Robert！'



'Is　she？'　returned　Robert。



'I　don't　mean　to　say　she's　like　Miss　Letty；'　said　Ericson。　'She's　an

angel！'



A　long　pause　followed。　　Robert's　thoughts　went　roaming　in　their

usual　haunts。



'Do　you　think；　Mr。　Ericson；'　he　said；　at　length；　taking　up　the　old

question　still　floating　unanswered　in　his　mind；　'do　you　think　if　a

devil　was　to　repent　God　would　forgive　him？'



Ericson　turned　and　looked　at　him。　　Their　eyes　met。　　The　youth

wondered　at　the　boy。　　He　had　recognized　in　him　a　younger　brother；

one　who　had　begun　to　ask　questions；　calling　them　out　into　the　deaf

and　dumb　abyss　of　the　universe。



'If　God　was　as　good　as　I　would　like　him　to　be；　the　devils　themselves

would　repent；'　he　said；　turning　away。



Then　he　turned　again；　and　looking　down　upon　Robert　like　a　sorrowful

eagle　from　a　crag　over　its　harried　nest；　said；



'If　I　only　knew　that　God　was　as　good　asthat　woman；　I　should　die

content。'



Robert　heard　words　of　blasphemy　from　the　mouth　of　an　angel；　but　his

respect　for　Ericson　compelled　a　reply。



'What　woman；　Mr。　Ericson？'　he　asked。



'I　mean　Miss　Letty；　of　course。'



'But　surely　ye　dinna　think　God's　nae　as　guid　as　she　is？　　Surely　he's

as　good　as　he　can　be。　　He　is　good；　ye　ken。'



'Oh；　yes。　　They　say　so。　　And　then　they　tell　you　something　about　him

that　isn't　good；　and　go　on　calling　him　good　all　the　same。　　But

calling　anybody　good　doesn't　make　him　good；　you　know。'



'Then　ye　dinna　believe　'at　God　is　good；　Mr。　Ericson？'　said　Robert；

choking　with　a　strange　mingling　of　horror　and　hope。



'I　didn't　say　that；　my　boy。　　But　to　know　that　God　was　good；　and

fair；　and　kindheartily；　I　mean；　not　half…ways；　and　with　ifs　and

butsmy　boy；　there　would　be　nothing　left　to　be　miserable　about。'



In　a　momentary　flash　of　thought；　Robert　wondered　whether　this　might

not　be　his　old　friend；　the　repentant　angel；　sent　to　earth　as　a　man；

that　he　might　have　a　share　in　the　redemption；　and　work　out　his　own

salvation。　　And　from　this　very　moment　the　thoughts　about　God　that

had　hitherto　been　moving　in　formless　solution　in　his　mind　began

slowly　to　crystallize。



The　next　day；　Eric　Ericson；　not　without　a　piece　in　ae　pouch　and

money　in　another；　took　his　way　home；　if　home　it　could　be　called

where　neither　father；　mother；　brother；　nor　sister　awaited　his

return。　　For　a　season　Robert　saw　him　no　more。



As　often　as　his　name　was　mentioned；　Miss　Letty's　eyes　would　grow

hazy；　and　as　often　she　would　make　some　comical　remark。



'Puir　fallow！'　she　would　say；　'he　was　ower　lang…leggit　for　this

warld。'



Or　again：



'Ay；　he　was　a　braw　chield。　　But　he　canna　live。　　His　feet's　ower

sma'。'



Or　yet　again：



'Saw　ye　ever　sic　a　gowk；　to　mak　sic　a　wark　aboot　sittin'　doon　an'

haein'　his　feet　washed；　as　gin　that　cost　a　body　onything！'









CHAPTER　XVI。



MR。　　LAMMIE'S　FARM。



One　of　the　first　warm　mornings　in　the　beginning　of　summer；　the　boy

woke　early；　and　lay　awake；　as　was　his　custom；　thinking。　　The　sun；　in

all　the　indescribable　purity　of　its　morning　light；　had　kindled　a

spot　of　brilliance　just　about　where　his　grannie's　head　must　be　lying

asleep　in　its　sad　thoughts；　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　partition。



He　lay　looking　at　the　light。　　There　came　a　gentle　tapping　at　his

window。　　A　long　streamer　of　honeysuckle；　not　yet　in　blossom；　but

alive　with　the　life　of　the　summer；　was　blown　by　the　air　of　the

morning　against　his　window…pane；　as　if　calling　him　to　get　up　and

look　out。　　He　did　get　up　and　look　out。



But　he　started　back　in　such　haste　that　he　fell　against　the　side　of

his　bed。　　Within　a　few　yards　of　his　window；　bending　over　a　bush；　was

the　loveliest　face　he　had　ever　seenthe　only　face；　in　fact；　he　had

ever　yet　felt　to　be　beautiful。　　For　the　window　looked　directly　into

the　garden　of　the　next　house：　its　honeysuckle　tapped　at　his　window；

its　sweet…peas　grew　against　his　window…sill。　　It　was　the　face　of　the

angel　of　that　night；　but　how　different　when　illuminated　by　the

morning　sun　from　then；　when　lighted　up　by　a　chamber…candle！　　The

first　thought　that　came　to　him　was　the　half…ludicrous；　all…fantastic

idea　of　the　shoemaker　about　his　grandfather's　violin　being　a　woman。

A　vaguest　dream…vision　of　her　having　escaped　from　his　grandmother's

aumrie　（store…closet）；　and　wandering　free　amidst　the　wind　and　among

the　flowers；　crossed　his　mind　before　he　had　recovered　sufficiently

from　his　surprise　to　prevent　Fancy　from　cutting　any　more　of　those

too　ridiculous　capers　in　which　she　indulged　at　will　in　sleep；　and　as

often　besides　as　she　can　get　away　from　the　spectacles　of　old　Grannie

Judgment。



But　the　music　of　her　revelation　was　not　that　of　the　violin；　and

Robert　vaguely　felt　this；　though　he　searched　no　further　for　a

fitting　instrument　to　represent　her。　　If　he　had　heard　the　organ

indeed！but　he　knew　no　instrument　save　the　violin：　the　piano　he　had

only　heard　through　the　window。　　For　a　few　moments　her　face　brooded

over　the　bush；　and　her　long；　finely…modelled　fingers　travelled　about

it　as　if　they　were　creating　a　flower　upon　itprobably　they　were

assisting　the　birth　or　blowing　of　some　beautyand　then　she　raised

herself　with　a　lingering　look；　and　vanished　from　the　field　of　the

window。



But　ever　after　this；　when　the　evening　grew　dark；　Robert　would　steal

out　of　the　house；　leaving　his　book　open　by　his　grannie's　lamp；　that

its　patient　expansion　might　seem　to　say；　'He　will　come　back

presently；'　and　dart　round　the　corner　with　quick　quiet　step；　to　hear

if　Miss　St。　John　was　playing。　　If　she　was　not；　he　would　return　to

the　Sabbath　stillness　of　the　parlour；　where　his　grandmother　sat

meditating　or　reading；　and　Shargar　sat　brooding　over　the　freedom　of

the　old　days　ere　Mrs。　Falconer　had　begun　to　reclaim　him。　　There　he

would　seat　himself　once　more　at　his　bookto　rise　again　ere　another

hour　had　gone　by；　and　hearken　yet　again　at　her　window　whether　the

stream　might　not　be　flowing　now。　　If　he　found　her　at　her　instrument

he　would　stand　listening　in　earnest　delight；　until　the　fear　of　being

missed　drove　him　in：　this　secret　too　might　be　discovered；　and　this

enchantress　too　sent；　by　the　decree　of　his　grandmother；　into　the

limbo　of　vanities。　　Thus　strangely　did　his　evening　life　oscillate

between　the　two　peaceful　negations　of　grannie's　parlour　and　the

vital　gladness　of　the　unknown　lady's　window。　　And　skilfully　did　he

manage　his　retreats　and　returns；　curtailing　his　absences　with　such

moderation　that；　for　a　long　time；　they　awoke　no　suspicion　in　the

mind　of　his　grandmother。



I　suspect　myself　that　the　old　lady　thought　he　had　gone　to　his

prayers　in　the　garret。　　And　I　believe　she　thought　that　he　was

praying　for　his　dead　father；　with　which　most　papistical；　and；

therefore；　most　unchristian　observance；　she　yet　dared　not　interfere；

because　she　expected　Robert　to　defend　himself　triumphantly　with　the

simple　assertion　that　he　did　not　believe　his　father　was　dead。

Possibly　the　mother　was　not　sorry　that　her　poor　son　should　be

prayed　for；　in　case　he　might　be　alive　after　all；　though　she　could　no

longer　do　so　herselfnot　merely　dared　not；　but　persuaded　herself

that　she　would　not。　　Robert；　however；　was　convinced　enough；　and

hopeless　enough；　by　this　time；　and　had　even　less　temptation　to　break

the　twentieth　commandment　by　praying　for　the　dead；　than　his

grandmother　had；　for　with　all　his　imaginative　outgoings　after　his

father；　his　love　to　him　was　as　yet；　compared　to　that　father's

mother's；　'as　moonlight　unto　sunlight；　and　as　water　unto　wine。'



Shargar　would　glance　up　at　him　with　a　queer　look　as　he　came　in　from

these　excursions；　drop　his　head　over　his　task　again；　look　busy　and

miserable；　and　all　would　glide　on　as　before。



When　the　first　really　summer　weather　came；　Mr。　Lammie　one　day　paid

Mrs。　Falconer　a　second　visit。　　He　had　not　been　able　to　get　over　the

remembrance　of　the　desolation　in　which　he　had　left　her。　　But　he

could　do　nothing　for　her；　he　thought；　till　it　was　warm　weather。　　He

was　accompanied　by　his　daughter；　a　woman　approaching　the　further

verge　of　youth；　bulky　and　florid；　and　as　full　of　tenderness　as　her

large　frame　could　hold。　　After　much；　and；　for　a　long　time；

apparently　useless　persuasion；　they　at　last　believed　they　had

prevailed　upon　her　to　pay　them　a　visit　for　a　fortnight。　　But　she　had

only　retreated　within　another　of　her　defences。



'I　canna　leave　thae　twa　laddies　alane。　　They　wad　be　up　to　a'

mischeef。'



'There's　Betty　to　luik　efter　them；'　suggested　Miss　Lammie。



'Betty！'　returned　Mrs。　Falconer；　with　scorn。　'Betty's　naething　but　a

bairn　hersel'muckler　and　waur　faured　（worse　favoured）。'



'But　what　for　shouldna　ye　fess　the　lads　wi'　ye？'　suggested　Mr。

Lammie。



'I　hae　no　richt　to　burden　you　wi'　them。'



'Weel；　I　hae　aften　wonnert　what　gart　ye　burden　yersel'　wi'　that

Shargar；　as　I　understan'　they　ca'　him；'　said　Mr。　Lammie。



'Jist　naething　but　a　bit　o'　greed；'　returned　the　old　lady；　with　the

nearest　approach　to　a　smile　that　had　shown　itself　upon　her　face

since　Mr。　Lammie's　last　visit。



'I　dinna　understan'　that；　Mistress　Faukner；'　said　Miss　Lammie。



'I'm　sae　sure　o'　haein'　'