robert falconer- 第60部分

reached　the　place　by　a　stair　from　Union　Street　far　sooner　than　he

could　drive　thither。　　His　horses　apparently　liked　the　cold　as　little

as　himself。　　They　had　been　moving　about　restlessly　for　some　time

before　the　doctor　made　his　appearance。　　The　moment　he　got　in　and

shut　the　door；　one　of　them　reared；　while　the　other　began　to　haul　on

his　traces；　eager　for　a　gallop。　　Something　about　the　chain　gave　way；

the　pole　swerved　round　under　the　rearing　horse；　and　great　confusion

and　danger　would　have　ensued；　had　not　Shargar　rushed　from　his　coign

of　vantage；　sprung　at　the　bit　of　the　rearing　horse；　and　dragged　him

off　the　pole；　over　which　he　was　just　casting　his　near　leg。　　As　soon

as　his　feet　touched　the　ground　he　too　pulled；　and　away　went　the

chariot　and　down　went　Shargar。　　But　in　a　moment　more　several　men　had

laid　hold　of　the　horses'　heads；　and　stopped　them。



'Oh　Lord！'　cried　Shargar；　as　he　rose　with　his　arm　dangling　by　his

side；　'what　will　Donal'　Joss　say？　　I'm　like　to　swarf　（faint）。　　Haud

awa'　frae　that　basket；　ye　wuddyfous　（withy…fowls；　gallows…birds）；'

he　cried；　darting　towards　the　hamper　he　had　left　in　the　entry　of　a

court；　round　which　a　few　ragged　urchins　had　gathered；　but　just　as　he

reached　it　he　staggered　and　fell。　　Nor　did　he　know　anything　more

till　he　found　the　carriage　stopping　with　himself　and　the　hamper

inside　it。



As　soon　as　the　coachman　had　got　his　harness　put　to　rights；　the

doctor　had　driven　back　to　see　how　the　lad　had　fared；　for　he　had　felt

the　carriage　go　over　something。　　They　had　found　him　lying　beside　his

hamper；　had　secured　both；　and　as　a　preliminary　measure　were

proceeding　to　deliver　the　latter。



'Whaur　am　I？　whaur　the　deevil　am　I？'　cried　Shargar；　jumping　up　and

falling　back　again。



'Don't　you　know　me；　Moray？'　said　the　doctor；　for　he　felt　shy　of

calling　the　poor　boy　by　his　nickname：　he　had　no　right　to　do　so。



'Na；　I　dinna　ken　ye。　　Lat　me　awa'。I　beg　yer　pardon；　doctor：　I

thocht　ye　was　ane　o'　thae　wuddyfous　rinnin'　awa'　wi'　Donal'　Joss's

basket。　　Eh　me！　sic　a　stoun'　i'　my　airm！　　But　naebody　ca's　me　Moray。

They　a'　ca'　me　Shargar。　　What　richt　hae　I　to　be　ca'd　Moray？'　added

the　poor　boy；　feeling；　I　almost　believe　for　the　first　time；　the

stain　upon　his　birth。　　Yet　ye　had　as　good　a　right　before　God　to　be

called　Moray　as　any　other　son　of　that　worthy　sire；　the　Baron　of

Rothie　included。　　Possibly　the　trumpet…blowing　angels　did　call　him

Moray；　or　some　better　name。



'The　coachman　will　deliver　your　parcel；　Moray；'　said　the　doctor；

this　time　repeating　the　name　with　emphasis。



'Deil　a　bit　o'　't！'　cried　Shargar。　'He　daurna　lea'　his　box　wi'　thae

deevils　o'　horses。　　What　gars　he　keep　sic　horses；　doctor？　　They'll

play　some　mischeef　some　day。'



'Indeed；　they've　played　enough　already；　my　poor　boy。　　They've　broken

your　arm。'



'Never　min'　that。　　That's　no　muckle。　　Ye're　welcome；　doctor；　to　my

twa　airms　for　what　ye　hae　dune　for　Robert　an'　that　lang…leggit

frien'　o'　histhe　Lord　forgie　meMr。　Ericson。　　But　ye　maun　jist

pay　him　what　I　canna　mak　for　a　day　or　twa；　till　't　jines　againto

haud　them　gaein'；　ye　ken。It　winna　be　muckle　to　you；　doctor；'　added

Shargar；　beseechingly。



'Trust　me　for　that；　Moray；'　returned　Dr。　Anderson。　'I　owe　you　a　good

deal　more　than　that。　　My　brains　might　have　been　out　by　this　time。'



'The　Lord　be　praised！'　said　Shargar；　making　about　his　first

profession　of　Christianity。　'Robert　'ill　think　something　o'　me　noo。'



During　this　conversation　the　coachman　sat　expecting　some　one　to

appear　from　the　shop；　and　longing　to　pitch　into　the　'camstary'

horse；　but　not　daring　to　lift　his　whip　beyond　its　natural　angle。　　No

one　came。　　All　at　once　Shargar　knew　where　he　was。



'Guid　be　here！　we're　at　Donal's　door！　　Guid　day　to　ye；　doctor；　an'

I'm　muckle　obleeged　to　ye。　　Maybe；　gin　ye　war　comin'　oor　gait；　the

morn；　or　the　neist　day；　to　see　Maister　Ericson；　ye　wad　tie　up　my

airm；　for　it　gangs　wallopin'　aboot；　an'　that　canna　be　guid　for　the

stickin'　o'　't　thegither　again。'



'My　poor　boy！　you　don't　think　I'm　going　to　leave　you　here；　do　you？'

said　the　doctor；　proceeding　to　open　the　carriage…door。



'But　whaur's　the　hamper？'　said　Shargar；　looking　about　him　in　dismay。



'The　coachman　has　got　it　on　the　box；'　answered　the　doctor。



'Eh！　that'll　never　do。　　Gin　thae　rampaugin'　brutes　war　to　tak　a

start　again；　what　wad　come　o'　the　bit　basket？　　I　maun　get　it　doon

direckly。'



'Sit　still。　　I　will　get　it　down；　and　deliver　it　myself。'　　As　he

spoke　the　doctor　got　out。



'Tak　care　o'　't；　sir；　tak　care　o'　't。　　William　Walker　said　there　was

a　jar　o'　drained　hinney　i'　the　basket；　an'　the　bairns　wad　miss　't

sair　gin　't　war　spult。'



'I　will　take　good　care　of　it；'　responded　the　doctor。



He　delivered　the　basket；　returned　to　the　carriage；　and　told　the

coachman　to　drive　home。



'Whaur　are　ye　takin'　me　till？'　exclaimed　Shargar。　'Willie　hasna

payed　me　for　the　parcel。'



'Never　mind　Willie。　　I'll　pay　you；'　said　the　doctor。



'But　Robert　wadna　like　me　to　tak　siller　whaur　I　did　nae　wark　for

't；'　objected　Shargar。　'He's　some　pernickety　（precise）Robert。　　But

I'll　jist　say　'at　ye　garred　me；　doctor。　　Maybe　that　'll　saitisfee

him。　　An'　faith！　　I'm　queer　aboot　my　left　fin　here。'



'We'll　soon　set　it　all　right；'　said　the　doctor。



When　they　reached　his　house　he　led　the　way　to　his　surgery；　and　there

put　the　broken　limb　in　splints。　　He　then　told　Johnston　to　help　the

patient　to　bed。



'I　maun　gang　hame；'　objected　Shargar。　'What　wad　Robert　think？'



'I　will　tell　him　all　about　it；'　said　the　doctor。



'Yersel；　sir？'　stipulated　Shargar。



'Yes；　myself。'



'Afore　nicht？'



'Directly；'　answered　the　doctor；　and　Shargar　yielded。



'But　what　will　Robert　say？'　were　his　last　words；　as　he　fell　asleep；

appreciating；　no　doubt；　the　superiority　of　the　bed　to　his　usual　lair

upon　the　hearthrug。



Robert　was　delighted　to　hear　how　well　Shargar　had　acquitted　himself。

Followed　a　small　consultation　about　him；　for　the　accident　had

ripened　the　doctor's　intentions　concerning　the　outcast。



'As　soon　as　his　arm　is　sound　again；　he　shall　go　to　the

grammar…school；'　he　said。



'An'　the　college？'　asked　Robert。



'I　hope　so；'　answered　the　doctor。　'Do　you　think　he　will　do　well？　　He

has　plenty　of　courage；　at　all　events；　and　that　is　a　fine　thing。'



'Ow　ay；'　answered　Robert；　'he's　no　ill　aff　for　smeddum

（spirit）that　is；　gin　it　be　for　ony　ither　body。　　He　wad　never　lift

a　han'　for　himsel'；　an'　that's　what　garred　me　tak　till　him　sae

muckle。　　He's　a　fine　crater。　　He　canna　gang　him　lane；　but　he'll　gang

wi'　onybodyand　haud　up　wi'　him。'



'What　do　you　think　him　fit　for；　then？'



Now　Robert　had　been　building　castles　for　Shargar　out　of　the　hopes

which　the　doctor's　friendliness　had　given　him。　　Therefore　he　was

ready　with　his　answer。



'Gin　ye　cud　ensure　him　no　bein'　made　a　general　o'；　he　wad　mak　a

gran'　sojer。　　Set's　face　foret；　and　say　〃quick　mairch；〃　an'　he'll　ca

his　bagonet　throu　auld　Hornie。　　But　lay　nae　consequences　upo'　him；

for　he　cudna　stan'　unner　them。'



Dr。　Anderson　laughed；　but　thought　none　the　less；　and　went　home　to

see　how　his　patient　was　getting　on。









CHAPTER　XIV。



MYSIE'S　FACE。



Meantime　Ericson　grew　better。　　A　space　of　hard；　clear　weather；　in

which　everything　sparkled　with　frost　and　sunshine；　did　him　good。

But　not　yet　could　he　use　his　brain。　　He　turned　with　dislike　even

from　his　friend　Plato。　　He　would　sit　in　bed　or　on　his　chair　by　the

fireside　for　hours；　with　his　hands　folded　before　him；　and　his

eyelids　drooping；　and　let　his　thoughts　flow；　for　he　could　not　think。

And　that　these　thoughts　flowed　not　always　with　other　than　sweet

sounds　over　the　stones　of　question；　the　curves　of　his　lip　would

testify　to　the　friendly；　furtive　glance　of　the　watchful　Robert。

None　but　the　troubled　mind　knows　its　own　consolations；　and　I

believe　the　saddest　life　has　its　own　presencehowever　it　may　be

unrecognized　as　suchof　the　upholding　Deity。　　Doth　God　care　for　the

hairs　that　perish　from　our　heads？　　To　a　mind　like　Ericson's　the

remembered　scent；　the　recurring　vision　of　a　flower　loved　in

childhood；　is　enough　to　sustain　anxiety　with　beauty；　for　the　lovely

is　itself　healing　and　hope…giving；　because　it　is　the　form　and

presence　of　the　true。　　To　have　such　a　presence　is　to　be；　and　while　a

mind　exists　in　any　high　consciousness；　the　intellectual　trouble　that

springs　from　the　desire　to　know　its　own　life；　to　be　assured　of　its

rounded　law　and　security；　ceases；　for　the　desire　itself　falls　into

abeyance。



But　although　Ericson　was　so　weak；　he　was　always　able　and　ready　to

help　Robert　in　any　difficulty　not　unfrequently　springing　from　his

imperfect　preparation　in　Greek；　for　while　Mr。　Innes　was　an　excellent

Latin　scholar；　his　knowledge　of　Greek　was　too　limited　either　to

compel　learning　or　inspire　enthusiasm；　And　with　the　keen　instinct　he

possessed　in　everything　immediate　between　man　and　man；　Robert　would

sometimes　search　for　a　difficulty　in　order　to　request　its　solution；

for　then　Ericson　would　rouse　himself　to　explain　as　few　men　could

have　explained：　where　a　clear　view　was　to　be　had　of　anything；

Ericson　either　had　it　or　knew　that　he　had　it　not。　　Hence　Robert's

progress　was　good；　for　one　word　from　a　wise　helper　will　clear　off　a

whole　atmosphere　of　obstructions。



At　length　one　day　when　Robert　came　home　he　found　him　seated　at　the

table；　with　his　slate；　working　away　at　the　Differential　Calculus。

After　this　he　recovered　more　rapidly；　and　ere　another　week　was　over

began　to　attend　one　class　a　day。　　He　had　been　so　far　in　advance

before；　that　though　he　could　not　expect　prizes；　there　was　no　fear　of

his　passing。



One　morning；　Robert；　coming　out　from　a　lecture；　saw　Ericson　in　the

quadrangle　talking　to　an　elderly　gentleman。　　When　they　met　in　the

afternoon　Ericson　told　him　that　that　was　Mr。　Lindsay；　and　that　he

had　asked　them　both　to　spend　the　evening　at　his　house。　　Robe