robert falconer- 第66部分

with　a　low　stone　wall；　the　wind　met　them　right　in　the　face　with

redoubled　vehemence；　the　leaders　swerved　from　it；　and　were　just

rising　to　jump　over　the　parapet；　when　the　coachman；　whose　hands　were

nearly　insensible　with　cold；　threw　his　leg　over　the　reins；　and

pulled　them　up。　　One　of　the　leaders　reared；　and　fell　backwards；　one

of　the　wheelers　kicked　vigorously；　a　few　moments；　and　in　spite　of

the　guard　at　their　heads；　all　was　one　struggling　mass　of　bodies　and

legs；　with　a　broken　pole　in　the　midst。　　The　few　passengers　got　down；

and　Robert；　fearing　that　yet　worse　might　happen　and　remembering　the

lady；　opened　the　door。　　He　found　her　quite　composed。　　As　he　helped

her　out；



'What　is　the　matter？'　asked　the　voice　dearest　to　him　in　the

worldthe　voice　of　Miss　St。　John。



He　gave　a　cry　of　delight。　　Wrapped　in　the　horse…cloth；　Miss　St。　John

did　not　know　him。



'What　is　the　matter？'　she　repeated。



'Ow；　naething；　memnaething。　　Only　I　doobt　we　winna　get　ye　hame　the

nicht。'



'Is　it　you；　Robert？'　she　said；　gladly　recognizing　his　voice。



'Ay；　it's　me；　and　Mr。　Ericson。　　We'll　tak　care　o'　ye；　mem。'



'But　surely　we　shall　get　home！'



Robert　had　heard　the　crack　of　the　breaking　pole。



''Deed；　I　doobt　no。'



'What　are　we　to　do；　then？'



'Come　into　the　lythe　（shelter）　o'　the　bank　here；　oot　o'　the　gait　o'

thae　brutes　o'　horses；'　said　Robert；　taking　off　his　horse…cloth　and

wrapping　her　in　it。



The　storm　hissed　and　smote　all　around　them。　　She　took　Robert's　arm。

Followed　by　Ericson；　they　left　the　coach　and　the　struggling　horses；

and　withdrew　to　a　bank　that　overhung　the　road。　　As　soon　as　they　were

out　of　the　wind；　Robert；　who　had　made　up　his　mind；　said；



'We　canna　be　mony　yairds　frae　the　auld　hoose　o'　Bogbonnie。　　We　micht

win　throu　the　nicht　there　weel　eneuch。　　I'll　speir　at　the　gaird；　the

minute　the　horses　are　clear。　　We　war　'maist　ower　the　brig；　I　heard

the　coachman　say。'



'I　know　quite　well　where　the　old　house　is；'　said　Ericson。　'I　went　in

the　last　time　I　walked　this　way。'



'Was　the　door　open？'　asked　Robert。



'I　don't　know；'　answered　Ericson。　'I　found　one　of　the　windows　open

in　the　basement。'



'We'll　get　the　len'　o'　ane　o'　the　lanterns；　an'　gang　direckly。　　It

canna　be　mair　nor　the　breedth　o'　a　rig　or　twa　frae　the　burn。'



'I　can　take　you　by　the　road；'　said　Ericson。



'It　will　be　very　cold；'　said　Miss　St。　John；already　shivering；

partly　from　disquietude。



'There's　timmer　eneuch　there　to　haud　's　warm　for　a　twalmonth；'　said

Robert。



He　went　back　to　the　coach。　　By　this　time　the　horses　were　nearly

extricated。　　Two　of　them　stood　steaming　in　the　lamplight；　with　their

sides　going　at　twenty　bellows'　speed。　　The　guard　would　not　let　him

have　one　of　the　coach　lamps；　but　gave　him　a　small　lantern　of　his

own。　　When　he　returned　with　it；　he　found　Ericson　and　Miss　St。　John

talking　together。



Ericson　led　the　way；　and　the　others　followed。



'Whaur　are　ye　gaein'；　gentlemen？'　asked　the　guard；　as　they　passed

the　coach。



'To　the　auld　hoose；'　answered　Robert。



'Ye　canna　do　better。　　I　maun　bide　wi'　the　coch　till　the　lave　gang

back　to　Drumheid　wi'　the　horses；　on'　fess　anither　pole。　　Faith；

it'll　be　weel　into　the　mornin'　or　we　win　oot　o'　this。　　Tak　care　hoo

ye　gang。　　There's　holes　i'　the　auld　hoose；　I　doobt。'



'We'll　tak　gude　care；　ye　may　be　sure；　Hector；'　said　Robert；　as　they

left　the　bridge。



The　house　to　which　Ericson　was　leading　them　was　in　the　midst　of　a

field。　　There　was　just　light　enough　to　show　a　huge　mass　standing　in

the　dark；　without　a　tree　or　shelter　of　any　sort。　　When　they　reached

it；　all　that　Miss　St。　John　could　distinguish　was　a　wide　broken　stair

leading　up　to　the　door；　with　glimpses　of　a　large；　plain；　ugly；

square　front。　　The　stones　of　the　stair　sloped　and　hung　in　several

directions；　but　it　was　plain　to　a　glance　that　the　place　was

dilapidated　through　extraordinary　neglect；　rather　than　by　the　usual

wear　of　time。　　In　fact；　it　belonged　only　to　the　beginning　of　the

preceding　century；　somewhere　in　Queen　Anne's　time。　　There　was　a

heavy　door　to　it；　but　fortunately　for　Miss　St。　John；　who　would　not

quite　have　relished　getting　in　at　the　window　of　which　Ericson　had

spoken；　it　stood　a　little　ajar。　　The　wind　roared　in　the　gap　and

echoed　in　the　empty　hall　into　which　they　now　entered。　　Certainly

Robert　was　right：　there　was　wood　enough　to　keep　them　warm；　for　that

hall；　and　every　room　into　which　they　went；　from　top　to　bottom　of　the

huge　house；　was　lined　with　pine。　　No　paint…brush　had　ever　passed

upon　it。　　Neither　was　there　a　spot　to　be　seen　upon　the　grain　of　the

wood：　it　was　clean　as　the　day　when　the　house　was　finished；　only　it

had　grown　much　browner。　　A　close　gallery；　with　window…frames　which

had　never　been　glazed；　at　one　story's　height；　leading　across　from

the　one　side　of　the　first　floor　to　the　other；　looked　down　into　the

great　echoing　hall；　which　rose　in　the　centre　of　the　building　to　the

height　of　two　stories；　but　this　was　unrecognizable　in　the　poor　light

of　the　guard's　lantern。　　All　the　rooms　on　every　floor　opened　each

into　the　other；but　why　should　I　give　such　a　minute　description；

making　my　reader　expect　a　ghost　story；　or　at　least　a　nocturnal

adventure？　　I　only　want　him　to　feel　something　of　what　our　party　felt

as　they　entered　this　desolate　building；　which；　though　some　hundred

and　twenty　years　old；　bore　not　a　single　mark　upon　the　smooth　floors

or　spotless　walls　to　indicate　that　article　of　furniture　had　ever

stood　in　it；　or　human　being　ever　inhabited　it。　　There　was　a　strange

and　unusual　horror　about　the　placea　feeling　quite　different　from

that　belonging　to　an　ancient　house；　however　haunted　it　might　be。　　It

was　like　a　body　that　had　never　had　a　human　soul　in　it。　　There　was　no

sense　of　a　human　history　about　it。　　Miss　St。　John's　feeling　of

eeriness　rose　to　the　height　when；　in　wandering　through　the　many

rooms　in　search　of　one　where　the　windows　were　less　broken；　she　came

upon　one　spot　in　the　floor。　　It　was　only　a　hole　worn　down　through

floor　after　floor；　from　top　to　bottom；　by　the　drip　of　the　rains　from

the　broken　roof：　it　looked　like　the　disease　of　the　desolate　place；

and　she　shuddered。



Here　they　must　pass　the　night；　with　the　wind　roaring　awfully　through

the　echoing　emptiness；　and　every　now　and　then　the　hail　clashing

against　what　glass　remained　in　the　windows。　　They　found　one　room

with　the　window　well　boarded　up；　for　until　lately　some　care　had　been

taken　of　the　place　to　keep　it　from　the　weather。　　There　Robert　left

his　companions；　who　presently　heard　the　sounds　of　tearing　and

breaking　below；　necessity　justifying　him　in　the　appropriation　of

some　of　the　wood…work　for　their　own　behoof。　　He　tore　a　panel　or　two

from　the　walls；　and　returning　with　them；　lighted　a　fire　on　the　empty

hearth；　where；　from　the　look　of　the　stone　and　mortar；　certainly

never　fire　had　blazed　before。　　The　wood　was　dry　as　a　bone；　and　burnt

up　gloriously。



Then　first　Robert　bethought　himself　that　they　had　nothing　to　eat。

He　himself　was　full　of　merriment；　and　cared　nothing　about　eating；

for　had　he　not　Miss　St。　John　and　Ericson　there？　but　for　them

something　must　be　provided。　　He　took　his　lantern　and　went　back

through　the　storm。　　The　hail　had　ceased；　but　the　wind　blew

tremendously。　　The　coach　stood　upon　the　bridge　like　a　stranded

vessel；　its　two　lamps　holding　doubtful　battle　with　the　wind；　now

flaring　out　triumphantly；　now　almost　yielding　up　the　ghost。　　Inside；

the　guard　was　snoring　in　defiance　of　the　pother　o'er　his　head。



'Hector！　　Hector！'　cried　Robert。



'Ay；　ay；'　answered　Hector。　'It's　no　time　to　wauken　yet。'



'Hae　ye　nae　basket；　Hector；　wi'　something　to　eat　in　'tnaething

gaein'　to　Rothieden　'at　a　body　micht　say　by　yer　leave　till？'



'Ow！　it's　you；　is　't？'　returned　Hector；　rousing　himself。　'Na。　Deil

ane。　　An'　gin　I　had；　I　daurna　gie　ye　't。'



'I　wad　mak　free　to　steal　't；　though；　an'　tak　my　chance；'　said

Robert。　'But　ye　say　ye　hae　nane？'



'Nane；　I　tell　ye。　　Ye　winna　hunger　afore　the　mornin'；　man。'



'I'll　stan'　hunger　as　weel　's　you　ony　day；　Hector。　　It's　no　for

mysel'。　　There's　Miss　St。　John。'



'Hoots！'　said　Hector；　peevishly；　for　he　wanted　to　go　to　sleep　again；

'gang　and　mak　luve　till　her。　　Nae　lass　'll　think　o'　meat　as　lang　's

ye　do　that。　　That　'll　haud　her　ohn　hungert。'



The　words　were　like　blasphemy　in　Robert's　ear。　　He　make　love　to　Miss

St。　John！　　He　turned　from　the　coach…door　in　disgust。　　But　there　was

no　place　he　knew　of　where　anything　could　be　had；　and　he　must　return

empty…handed。



The　light　of　the　fire　shone　through　a　little　hole　in　the　boards　that

closed　the　window。　　His　lamp　had　gone　out；　but；　guided　by　that；　he

found　the　road　again；　and　felt　his　way　up　the　stairs。　　When　he

entered　the　room　he　saw　Miss　St。　John　sitting　on　the　floor；　for

there　was　nowhere　else　to　sit；　with　the　guard's　coat　under　her。　　She

had　taken　off　her　bonnet。　　Her　back　leaned　against　the　side　of　the

chimney；　and　her　eyes　were　bent　thoughtfully　on　the　ground。　　In

their　shine　Robert　read　instinctively　that　Ericson　had　said

something　that　had　set　her　thinking。　　He　lay　on　the　floor　at　some

distance；　leaning　on　his　elbow；　and　his　eye　had　the　flash　in　it　that

indicates　one　who　has　just　ceased　speaking。　　They　had　not　found　his

absence　awkward　at　least。



'I　hae　been　efter　something　to　eat；'　said　Robert；　'but　I　canna　fa'

in　wi'　onything。　　We　maun　jist　tell　stories　or　sing　sangs；　as　fowk

do　in　buiks；　or　else　Miss　St。　John　'ill　think　lang。'



They　did　sing　songs；　and　they　did　tell　stories。　　I　will　not　trouble

my　reader　with　more　than　the　sketch　of　one　which　Robert　toldthe

story　of　the　old　house　wherein　they　sata　house　without　a　history；

save　the　story　of　its　no　history。　　It　had　been　built　for　the

jointure…house　of　a　young　countess；　whose　husband　was　an　old　man。　　A

lover　to　whom　she　had　turned　a　deaf　ear　had　left　the　country；

begging　ere　he　went　her　acceptance　of　a　lovely