robert falconer- 第40部分

from　the　painful　necessity　of　watching　lest　earthly　love　should

remove　any　of　the　old　landmarks　dividing　what　was　God's　from　what

was　only　man's。　　She　had　now　retired　within　the　pale　of　religion；

and　left　the　rest　of　her　being；　as　she　thought；　'to　dull

forgetfulness　a　prey。'



She　had　little　comfort　in　the　society　of　her　aunt。　　Indeed；　she　felt

strongly　tempted　to　return　again　to　England　the　same　month；　and　seek

a　divine　service　elsewhere。　　But　it　was　not　at　all　so　easy　then　as

it　is　now　for　a　woman　to　find　the　opportunity　of　being　helpful　in

the　world　of　suffering。



Mrs。　Forsyth　was　one　of　those　women　who　get　their　own　way　by　the

very　vis　inertiae　of　their　silliness。　　No　argument　could　tell　upon

her。　　She　was　so　incapable　of　seeing　anything　noble　that　her　perfect

satisfaction　with　everything　she　herself　thought；　said；　or　did；

remained　unchallenged。　　She　had　just　illness　enough　to　swell　her

feeling　of　importance。　　She　looked　down　upon　Mrs。　Falconer　from　such

an　immeasurable　height　that　she　could　not　be　indignant　with　her　for

anything；　she　only　vouchsafed　a　laugh　now　and　then　at　her　oddities；

holding　no　further　communication　with　her　than　a　condescending　bend

of　the　neck　when　they　happened　to　meet；　which　was　not　once　a　year。

But；　indeed；　she　would　have　patronized　the　angel　Gabriel；　if　she

had　had　a　chance；　and　no　doubt　given　him　a　hint　or　two　upon　the

proper　way　of　praising　God。　For　the　rest；　she　was　good…tempered；

looked　comfortable；　and　quarrelled　with　nobody　but　her　rough　honest

old　bear　of　a　husband；　whom；　in　his　seventieth　year；　she　was　always

trying　to　teach　good　manners；　with　the　frequent　result　of　a　storm　of

swearing。



But　now　Mary　St。　John　was　thoroughly　interested　in　the　strange　boy

whose　growing　musical　pinions　were　ever　being　clipped　by　the　shears

of　unsympathetic　age　and　crabbed　religion；　and　the　idea　of　doing

something　for　him　to　make　up　for　the　injustice　of　his　grandmother

awoke　in　her　a　slight　glow　of　that　interest　in　life　which　she　sought

only　in　doing　good。　　But　although　ere　long　she　came　to　love　the　boy

very　truly；　and　although　Shargar's　life　was　bound　up　in　the　favour

of　Robert；　yet　neither　stooping　angel　nor　foot…following　dog　ever

loved　the　lad　with　the　love　of　that　old　grandmother；　who　would　for

him　have　given　herself　to　the　fire　to　which　she　had　doomed　his

greatest　delight。



For　some　days　Robert　worked　hard　at　his　lessons；　for　he　had　nothing

else　to　do。　　Life　was　very　gloomy　now。　　If　he　could　only　go　to　sea；

or　away　to　keep　sheep　on　the　stormy　mountains！　　If　there　were　only

some　war　going　on；　that　he　might　list！　　Any　fighting　with　the

elements；　or　with　the　oppressors　of　the　nations；　would　make　life

worth　having；　a　man　worth　being。　　But　God　did　not　heed。　　He　leaned

over　the　world；　a　dark　care；　an　immovable　fate；　bearing　down　with

the　weight　of　his　presence　all　aspiration；　all　budding　delights　of

children　and　young　persons：　all　must　crouch　before　him；　and　uphold

his　glory　with　the　sacrificial　death　of　every　impulse；　every

admiration；　every　lightness　of　heart；　every　bubble　of　laughter。

Orwhich　to　a　mind　like　Robert's　was　as　badif　he　did　not　punish

for　these　things；　it　was　because　they　came　not　within　the　sphere　of

his　condescension；　were　not　worth　his　notice：　of　sympathy　could　be

no　question。



But　this　gloom　did　not　last　long。　　When　souls　like　Robert's　have

been　ill…taught　about　God；　the　true　God　will　not　let　them　gaze　too

long　upon　the　Moloch　which　men　have　set　up　to　represent　him。　　He

will　turn　away　their　minds　from　that　which　men　call　him；　and　fill

them　with　some　of　his　own　lovely　thoughts　or　works；　such　as　may　by

degrees　prepare　the　way　for　a　vision　of　the　Father。



One　afternoon　Robert　was　passing　the　soutar's　shop。　　He　had　never

gone　near　him　since　his　return。　　But　now；　almost　mechanically；　he

went　in　at　the　open　door。



'Weel；　Robert；　ye　are　a　stranger。　　But　what's　the　maitter　wi'　ye？

Faith！　yon　was　an　ill　plisky　ye　played　me　to　brak　into　my　chop　an'

steal　the　bonnie　leddy。'



'Sandy；'　said　Robert；　solemnly；　'ye　dinna　ken　what　ye　hae　dune　by

that　trick　ye　played　me。　　Dinna　ever　mention　her　again　i'　my

hearin'。'



'The　auld　witch　hasna　gotten　a　grup　o'　her　again？'　cried　the

shoemaker；　starting　half　up　in　alarm。　'She　cam　here　to　me　aboot　the

shune；　but　I　reckon　I　sortit　her！'



'I　winna　speir　what　ye　said；'　returned　Robert。　'It's　no　maitter

noo。'



And　the　tears　rose　to　his　eyes。　　His　bonny　lady！



'The　Lord　guide　's！'　exclaimed　the　soutar。　'What　is　the　maitter　wi'

the　bonnie　leddy？'



'There's　nae　bonnie　leddy　ony　mair。　　I　saw　her　brunt　to　death　afore

my　verra　ain　een。'



The　shoemaker　sprang　to　his　feet　and　caught　up　his　paring　knife。



'For　God's　sake；　say　'at　yer　leein'！'　he　cried。



'I　wish　I　war　leein'；'　returned　Robert。



The　soutar　uttered　a　terrible　oath；　and　swore



'I'll　murder　the　auld。'　　The　epithet　he　ended　with　is　too　ugly　to

write。



'Daur　to　say　sic　a　word　in　ae　breath　wi'　my　grannie；'　cried　Robert；

snatching　up　the　lapstone；　'an'　I'll　brain　ye　upo'　yer　ain

shop…flure。'



Sandy　threw　the　knife　on　his　stool；　and　sat　down　beside　it。　　Robert

dropped　the　lapstone。　　Sandy　took　it　up　and　burst　into　tears；　which

before　they　were　half　down　his　face；　turned　into　tar　with　the

blackness　of　the　same。



'I'm　an　awfu'　sinner；'　he　said；　'and　vengeance　has　owerta'en　me。

Gang　oot　o'　my　chop！　　I　wasna　worthy　o'　her。　　Gang　oot；　I　say；　or

I'll　kill　ye。'



Robert　went。　　Close　by　the　door　he　met　Miss　St。　John。　He　pulled　off

his　cap；　and　would　have　passed　her。　　But　she　stopped　him。



'I　am　going　for　a　walk　a　little　way；'　she　said。　'Will　you　go　with

me？'



She　had　come　out　in　the　hope　of　finding　him；　for　she　had　seen　him　go

up　the　street。



'That　I　wull；'　returned　Robert；　and　they　walked　on　together。



When　they　were　beyond　the　last　house；　Miss　St。　John　said；



'Would　you　like　to　play　on　the　piano；　Robert？'



'Eh；　mem！'　said　Robert；　with　a　deep　suspiration。　　Then；　after　a

pause：　'But　duv　ye　think　I　cud？'



'There's　no　fear　of　that。　　Let　me　see　your　hands。'



'They're　some　black；　I　doobt；　mem；'　he　remarked；　rubbing　them　hard

upon　his　trowsers　before　he　showed　them；　'for　I　was　amaist　cawin'

oot　the　brains　o'　Dooble　Sanny　wi'　his　ain　lapstane。　　He's　an

ill…tongued　chield。　　But　eh！　mem；　ye　suld　hear　him　play　upo'　the

fiddle！　　He's　greitin'　his　een　oot　e'en　noo　for　the　bonnie　leddy。'



Not　discouraged　by　her　inspection　of　his　hands；　black　as　they　were；

Miss　St。　John　continued；



'But　what　would　your　grandmother　say？'　she　asked。



'She　maun　ken　naething　aboot　it；　mem。　　I　can…not　tell　her　a'thing。

She　wad　greit　an'　pray　awfu'；　an'　lock　me　up；　I　daursay。　　Ye　see；

she　thinks　a'　kin'　o'　music　'cep'　psalm…singin'　comes　o'　the　deevil

himsel'。　　An'　I　canna　believe　that。　　For　aye　whan　I　see　onything　by

ordinar　bonnie；　sic　like　as　the　mune　was　last　nicht；　it　aye　gars　me

greit　for　my　brunt　fiddle。'



'Well；　you　must　come　to　me　every　day　for　half…an…hour　at　least；　and

I　will　give　you　a　lesson　on　my　piano。　　But　you　can't　learn　by　that。

And　my　aunt　could　never　bear　to　hear　you　practising。　　So　I'll　tell

you　what　you　must　do。　　I　have　a　small　piano　in　my　own　room。　　Do　you

know　there　is　a　door　from　your　house　into　my　room？'



'Ay；'　said　Robert。　'That　hoose　was　my　father's　afore　your　uncle

bought　it。　　My　father　biggit　it。'



'Is　it　long　since　your　father　died？'



'I　dinna　ken。'



'Where　did　he　die？'



'I　dinna　ken。'



'Do　you　remember　it？'



'No；　mem。'



'Well；　if　you　will　come　to　my　room；　you　shall　practise　there。　　I

shall　be　down…stairs　with　my　aunt。　　But　perhaps　I　may　look　up　now

and　then；　to　see　how　you　are　getting　on。　　I　will　leave　the　door

unlocked；　so　that　you　can　come　in　when　you　like。　　If　I　don't　want

you；　I　will　lock　the　door。　　You　understand？　　You　mustn't　be　handling

things；　you　know。'



''Deed；　mem；　ye　may　lippen　（trust）　to　me。　　But　I'm　jist　feared　to

lat　ye　hear　me　lay　a　finger　upo'　the　piana；　for　it's　little　I　cud　do

wi'　my　fiddle；　an'；　for　the　piana！　　I'm　feart　I'll　jist　scunner

（disgust）　ye。'



'If　you　really　want　to　learn；　there　will　be　no　fear　of　that；'

returned　Miss　St。　John；　guessing　at　the　meaning　of　the　word　scunner。

'I　don't　think　I　am　doing　anything　wrong；'　she　added；　half　to

herself；　in　a　somewhat　doubtful　tone。



''Deed　no；　mem。　　Ye're　jist　an　angel　unawares。　　For　I　maist　think

sometimes　that　my　grannie　'll　drive　me　wud　（mad）；　for　there's

naething　to　read　but　guid　buiks；　an'　naething　to　sing　but　psalms；

an'　there's　nae　fun　aboot　the　hoose　but　Betty；　an'　puir　Shargar's

nearhan'　dementit　wi'　't。　　An'　we　maun　pray　till　her　whether　we　will

or　no。　　An'　there's　no　comfort　i'　the　place　but　plenty　to　ate；　an'

that　canna　be　guid　for　onybody。　　She　likes　flooers；　though；　an'　wad

like　me　to　gar　them　grow；　but　I　dinna　care　aboot　it：　they　tak　sic　a

time　afore　they　come　to　onything。'



Then　Miss　St。　John　inquired　about　Shargar；　and　began　to　feel　rather

differently　towards　the　old　lady　when　she　had　heard　the　story。　　But

how　she　laughed　at　the　tale；　and　how　light…hearted　Robert　went　home；

are　neither　to　be　told。



The　next　Sunday；　the　first　time　for　many　years；　Dooble　Sanny　was　at

church　with　his　wife；　though　how　much　good　he　got　by　going　would　be

a　serious　question　to　discuss。









CHAPTER　XXV。



THE　GATES　OF　PARADISE。



Robert　had　his　first　lesson　the　next　Saturday　afternoon。　　Eager　and

undismayed　by　the　presence　of　Mrs；　Forsyth；　good…natured　and

contemptuousfor　had　he　not　a　protecting　angel　by　him？he

hearkened　for　every　word　of　Miss　St。　John；　combated　every　fault；　and

undermined　every　awkwardness　with　earnest　patience。　　Nothing

delighted　Robert　so　much　as　to　give　himself　up　to　one　greater。　　His

mistress　was　thoroughly　pleased；　and　even　Mrs。　Forsyth　gave　him　two

of　her　soft　finger　tips　to　do　something　or　other　withRobe