robert falconer- 第67部分

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

begging　ere　he　went　her　acceptance　of　a　lovely　Italian　grayhound。

She　was　weak　enough　to　receive　the　animal。　　Her　husband　died　the

same　year；　and　before　the　end　of　it　the　dog　went　mad；　and　bit　her。

According　to　the　awful　custom　of　the　time　they　smothered　her

between　two　feather…beds；　just　as　the　house　of　Bogbonnie　was　ready

to　receive　her　furniture；　and　become　her　future　dwelling。　　No　one

had　ever　occupied　it。



If　Miss　St。　John　listened　to　story　and　song　without　as　much　show　of

feeling　as　Mysie　Lindsay　would　have　manifested；　it　was　not　that　she

entered　into　them　less　deeply。　　It　was　that　she　was　more；　not　felt

less。



Listening　at　her　window　once　with　Robert；　Eric　Ericson　had　heard

Mary　St。　John　play：　this　was　their　first　meeting。　　Full　as　his　mind

was　of　Mysie；　he　could　not　fail　to　feel　the　charm　of　a　noble；

stately　womanhood　that　could　give　support；　instead　of　rousing

sympathy　for　helplessness。　　There　was　in　the　dignified　simplicity　of

Mary　St。　John　that　which　made　every　good　man　remember　his　mother；

and　a　good　man　will　think　this　grand　praise；　though　a　fast　girl　will

take　it　for　a　doubtful　compliment。



Seeing　her　begin　to　look　weary；　the　young　men　spread　a　couch　for　her

as　best　they　could；　made　up　the　fire；　and　telling　her　they　would　be

in　the　hall　below；　retired；　kindled　another　fire；　and　sat　down　to

wait　for　the　morning。　　They　held　a　long　talk。　　At　length　Robert　fell

asleep　on　the　floor。



Ericson　rose。　　One　of　his　fits　of　impatient　doubt　was　upon　him。　　In

the　dying　embers　of　the　fire　he　strode　up　and　down　the　waste　hall；

with　the　storm　raving　around　it。　　He　was　destined　to　an　early　death；

he　would　leave　no　one　of　his　kin　to　mourn　for　him；　the　girl　whose

fair　face　had　possessed　his　imagination；　would　not　give　one　sigh　to

his　memory；　wandering　on　through　the　regions　of　fancy　all　the　same；

and　the　death…struggle　over；　he　might　awake　in　a　godless　void；

where；　having　no　creative　power　in　himself；　he　must　be　tossed　about；

a　conscious　yet　helpless　atom；　to　eternity。　　It　was　not　annihilation

he　feared；　although　he　did　shrink　from　the　thought　of

unconsciousness；　it　was　life　without　law　that　he　dreaded；　existence

without　the　bonds　of　a　holy　necessity；　thought　without　faith；　being

without　God。



For　all　her　fatigue　Miss　St。　John　could　not　sleep。　　The　house

quivered　in　the　wind　which　howled　more　and　more　madly　through　its

long　passages　and　empty　rooms；　and　she　thought　she　heard　cries　in

the　midst　of　the　howling。　　In　vain　she　reasoned　with　herself：　she

could　not　rest。　　She　rose　and　opened　the　door　of　her　room；　with　a

vague　notion　of　being　nearer　to　the　young　men。



It　opened　upon　the　narrow　gallery；　already　mentioned　as　leading　from

one　side　of　the　first　floor　to　the　other　at　mid…height　along　the　end

of　the　hall。　　The　fire　below　shone　into　this　gallery；　for　it　was

divided　from　the　hall　only　by　a　screen　of　crossing　bars　of　wood；

like　unglazed　window…frames；　possibly　intended　to　hold　glass。　　Of

the　relation　of　the　passage　to　the　hall　Mary　St。　John　knew　nothing；

till；　approaching　the　light；　she　found　herself　looking　down　into　the

red　dusk　below。　　She　stood　riveted；　for　in　the　centre　of　the　hall；

with　his　hands　clasped　over　his　head　like　the　solitary　arch　of　a

ruined　Gothic　aisle；　stood　Ericson。



His　agony　had　grown　within　himthe　agony　of　the　silence　that

brooded　immovable　throughout　the　infinite；　whose　sea　would　ripple　to

no　breath　of　the　feeble　tempest　of　his　prayers。　　At　length　it　broke

from　him　in　low　but　sharp　sounds　of　words。



'O　God；'　he　said；　'if　thou　art；　why　dost　thou　not　speak？　　If　I　am

thy　handiworkdost　thou　forget　that　which　thou　hast　made？'



He　paused；　motionless；　then　cried　again：



'There　can　be　no　God；　or　he　would　hear。'



'God　has　heard　me！'　said　a　full…toned　voice　of　feminine　tenderness

somewhere　in　the　air。　　Looking　up；　Ericson　saw　the　dim　form　of　Mary

St。　John　half…way　up　the　side　of　the　lofty　hall。　　The　same　moment

she　vanishedtrembling　at　the　sound　of　her　own　voice。



Thus　to　Ericson　as　to　Robert　had　she　appeared　as　an　angel。



And　was　she　less　of　a　divine　messenger　because　she　had　a　human　body；

whose　path　lay　not　through　the　air？　　The　storm　of　misery　folded　its

wings　in　Eric's　bosom；　and；　at　the　sound　of　her　voice；　there　was　a

great　calm。　　Nor　if　we　inquire　into　the　matter　shall　we　find　that

such　an　effect　indicated　anything　derogatory　to　the　depth　of　his

feelings　or　the　strength　of　his　judgment。　　It　is　not　through　the

judgment　that　a　troubled　heart　can　be　set　at　rest。　　It　needs　a

revelation；　a　vision；　a　something　for　the　higher　nature　that　breeds

and　infolds　the　intellect；　to　recognize　as　of　its　own；　and　lay　hold

of　by　faithful　hope。　　And　what　fitter　messenger　of　such　hope　than

the　harmonious　presence　of　a　woman；　whose　form　itself　tells　of

highest　law；　and　concord；　and　uplifting　obedience；　such　a　one　whose

beauty　walks　the　upper　air　of　noble　loveliness；　whose　voice；　even　in

speech；　is　one　of　the　'sphere…born　harmonious　sisters？　　The　very

presence　of　such　a　being　gives　Unbelief　the　lie；　deep　as　the　throat

of　her　lying。　　Harmony；　which　is　beauty　and　law；　works　necessary

faith　in　the　region　capable　of　truth。　　It　needs　the　intervention　of

no　reasoning。　　It　is　beheld。　　This　visible　Peace；　with　that　voice　of

woman's　truth；　said；　'God　has　heard　me！'　　What　better　testimony

could　an　angel　have　brought　him？　　Or　why　should　an　angel's　testimony

weigh　more　than　such　a　woman's？　　The　mere　understanding　of　a　man

like　Ericson　would　only　have　demanded　of　an　angel　proof　that　he　was

an　angel；　proof　that　angels　knew　better　than　he　did　in　the　matter　in

question；　proof　that　they　were　not　easy…going　creatures　that　took

for　granted　the　rumours　of　heaven。　　The　best　that　a　miracle　can　do

is　to　give　hope；　of　the　objects　of　faith　it　can　give　no　proof；　one

spiritual　testimony　is　worth　a　thousand　of　them。　　For　to　gain　the

sole　proof　of　which　these　truths　admit；　a　man　must　grow　into　harmony

with　them。　　If　there　are　no　such　things　he　cannot　become　conscious

of　a　harmony　that　has　no　existence；　he　cannot　thus　deceive　himself；

if　there　are；　they　must　yet　remain　doubtful　until　the　harmony

between　them　and　his　own　willing　nature　is　established。　　The

perception　of　this　harmony　is　their　only　and　incommunicable　proof。

For　this　process　time　is　needful；　and　therefore　we　are　saved　by

hope。　　Hence　it　is　no　wonder　that　before　another　half…hour　was　over；

Ericson　was　asleep　by　Robert's　side。



They　were　aroused　in　the　cold　gray　light　of　the　morning　by　the　blast

of　Hector's　horn。　　Miss　St。　John　was　ready　in　a　moment。　　The　coach

was　waiting　for　them　at　the　end　of　the　grassy　road　that　led　from　the

house。　　Hector　put　them　all　inside。　　Before　they　reached　Rothieden

the　events　of　the　night　began　to　wear　the　doubtful　aspect　of　a

dream。　　No　allusion　was　made　to　what　had　occurred　while　Robert

slept；　but　all　the　journey　Ericson　felt　towards　Miss　St。　John　as

Wordsworth　felt　towards　the　leech…gatherer；　who；　he　says；　was



　　　　　　　　　　like　a　man　from　some　far　region　sent；

　　　　　To　give　me　human　strength；　by　apt　admonishment。



And　Robert　saw　a　certain　light　in　her　eyes　which　reminded　him　of　how

she　looked　when；　having　repented　of　her　momentary　hardness　towards

him；　she　was　ministering　to　his　wounded　head。









CHAPTER　XVII。



HOME　AGAIN。



When　Robert　opened　the　door　of　his　grandmother's　parlour；　he　found

the　old　lady　seated　at　breakfast。　　She　rose；　pushed　back　her　chair；

and　met　him　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　put　her　old　arms　round　him；

offered　her　smooth　white　cheek　to　him；　and　wept。　　Robert　wondered

that　she　did　not　look　older；　for　the　time　he　had　been　away　seemed　an

age；　although　in　truth　only　eight　months。



'Hoo　are　ye；　laddie？'　she　said。　'I'm　richt　glaid；　for　I　hae　been

thinkin'　lang　to　see　ye。　　Sit　ye　doon。'



Betty　rushed　in；　drying　her　hands　on　her　apron。　　She　had　not　heard

him　enter。



'Eh　losh！'　she　cried；　and　put　her　wet　apron　to　her　eyes。　'Sic　a　man

as　ye're　grown；　Robert！　　A　puir　body　like　me　maunna　be　speykin　to　ye

noo。'



'There's　nae　odds　in　me；　Betty；'　returned　Robert。



''Deed　but　there　is。　　Ye're　sax　feet　an'　a　hairy　ower；　I　s'

warran'。'



'I　said　there　was　nae　odds　i'　me；　Betty；'　persisted　Robert；

laughing。



'I　kenna　what　may　be　in　ye；'　retorted　Betty；　'but　there's　an　unco'

odds　upo'　ye。'



'Haud　yer　tongue；　Betty；'　said　her　mistress。　'Ye　oucht　to　ken　better

nor　stan'　jawin'　wi'　young　men。　　Fess　mair　o'　the　creamy　cakes。'



'Maybe　Robert　wad　like　a　drappy　o'　parritch。'



'Onything；　Betty；'　said　Robert。　'I'm　at　deith's　door　wi'　hunger。'



'Rin；　Betty；　for　the　cakes。　　An'　fess　a　loaf　o'　white　breid；　we

canna　bide　for　the　parritch。'



Robert　fell　to　his　breakfast；　and　while　he　atesomewhat

ravenouslyhe　told　his　grandmother　the　adventures　of　the　night；　and

introduced　the　question　whether　he　might　not　ask　Ericson　to　stay　a

few　days　with　him。



'Ony　frien'　o'　yours；　laddie；'　she　replied；　qualifying　her　words

only　with　the　addition'gin　he　be　a　frien'。Whaur　is　he　noo？'



'He's　up　at　Miss　Naper's。'



'Hoots！　　What　for　didna　ye　fess　him　in　wi'　ye？Betty！'



'Na；　na；　grannie。　　The　Napers　are　frien's　o'　his。　　We　maunna

interfere　wi'　them。　　I'll　gang　up　mysel'　ance　I　hae　had　my

brakfast。'



'Weel；　weel；　laddie。　　Eh！　　I'm　blythe　to　see　ye！　　Hae　ye　gotten　ony

prizes　noo？'



'Ay　have　I。　I'm　sorry　they're　nae　baith　o'　them　the　first。　　But　I

hae　the　first　o'　ane　an'　the　third　o'　the　ither。'



'I　am　pleased　at　that；　Robert。　　Ye'll　be　a　man　some　day　gin　ye　haud

frae　drink　an'　fraefrae　leein'。'



'I　never　tellt　a　lee　i'　my　life；　grannie。'



'Na。　I　dinna　think　'at　ever　ye　did。An'　what's　that　crater　Shargar

aboot？'



'Ow；　jist　gaein'　to　be　a　croon　o'　glory　to　ye；　grannie。　　He　vroucht

like　a　horse　till　Dr。　Anderson　took　him　by　the　han'；　an'　sent　him　to