robert falconer- 第87部分

naething　turn　ye　aside。　　Man；　it's　a　great　comfort　to　me　to　think

that　ye're　my　ain　flesh　and　blude；　an'　nae　that　far　aff。　　My　father

an'　your　great…gran'father　upo'　the　gran'mither's　side　war　ain

brithers。　　I　wonner　hoo　far　doon　it　wad　gang。　　Ye're　the　only　ane

upo'　my　father's　side；　you　and　yer　father；　gin　he　be　alive；　that　I

hae　sib　to　me。　　My　will's　i'　the　bottom　drawer　upo'　the　left　han'　i'

my　writin'　table　i'　the　leebrary：I　hae　left　ye　ilka　plack　'at　I

possess。　　Only　there's　ae　thing　that　I　want　ye　to　do。　　First　o'　a'；

ye　maun　gang　on　as　yer　doin'　in　London　for　ten　year　mair。　　Gin

deein'　men　hae　ony　o'　that　foresicht　that's　been　attreebuted　to　them

in　a'　ages；　it's　borne　in　upo'　me　that　ye　wull　see　yer　father　again。

At　a'　events；　ye'll　be　helpin'　some　ill…faured　sowls　to　a　clean

face　and　a　bonny。　　But　gin　ye　dinna　fa'　in　wi'　yer　father　within　ten

year；　ye　maun　behaud　a　wee；　an'　jist　pack　up　yer　box；　an'　gang　awa'

ower　the　sea　to　Calcutta；　an'　du　what　I　hae　tellt　ye　to　do　i'　that

wull。　　I　bind　ye　by　nae　promise；　Robert；　an'　I　winna　hae　nane。

Things　micht　happen　to　put　ye　in　a　terrible　difficulty　wi'　a

promise。　　I'm　only　tellin'　ye　what　I　wad　like。　　Especially　gin　ye

hae　fund　yer　father；　ye　maun　gang　by　yer　ain　jeedgment　aboot　it；　for

there　'll　be　a　hantle　to　do　wi'　him　efter　ye　hae　gotten　a　grup　o'

'im。　　An'　noo；　I　maun　lie　still；　an'　maybe　sleep　again；　for　I　hae

spoken　ower　muckle。'



Hoping　that　he　would　sleep　and　wake　yet　again；　Robert　sat　still。

After　an　hour；　he　looked；　and　saw　that；　although　hitherto　much

oppressed；　he　was　now　breathing　like　a　child。　　There　was　no　sign

save　of　past　suffering：　his　countenance　was　peaceful　as　if　he　had

already　entered　into　his　rest。　　Robert　withdrew；　and　again　seated

himself。　　And　the　great　universe　became　to　him　as　a　bird　brooding

over　the　breaking　shell　of　the　dying　man。



On　either　hand　we　behold　a　birth；　of　which；　as　of　the　moon；　we　see

but　half。　　We　are　outside　the　one；　waiting　for　a　life　from　the

unknown；　we　are　inside　the　other；　watching　the　departure　of　a　spirit

from　the　womb　of　the　world　into　the　unknown。　　To　the　region　whither

he　goes；　the　man　enters　newly　born。　　We　forget　that　it　is　a　birth；

and　call　it　a　death。　　The　body　he　leaves　behind　is　but　the　placenta

by　which　he　drew　his　nourishment　from　his　mother　Earth。　　And　as　the

child…bed　is　watched　on　earth　with　anxious　expectancy；　so　the　couch

of　the　dying；　as　we　call　them；　may　be　surrounded　by　the

birth…watchers　of　the　other　world；　waiting　like　anxious　servants　to

open　the　door　to　which　this　world　is　but　the　wind…blown　porch。



Extremes　meet。　　As　a　man　draws　nigh　to　his　second　birth；　his　heart

looks　back　to　his　childhood。　　When　Dr。　Anderson　knew　that　he　was

dying；　he　retired　into　the　simulacrum　of　his　father's　benn　end。



As　Falconer　sat　thinking；　the　doctor　spoke。　　They　were　low；　faint；

murmurous　sounds；　for　the　lips　were　nearly　at　rest。　　Wanted　no　more

for　utterance；　they　were　going　back　to　the　holy　dust；　which　is　God's

yet。



'Father；　father！'　he　cried　quickly；　in　the　tone　and　speech　of　a

Scotch　laddie；　'I'm　gaein'　doon。　　Haud　a　grup　o'　my　han'。'



When　Robert　hurried　to　the　bedside；　he　found　that　the　last　breath

had　gone　in　the　words。　　The　thin　right　hand　lay　partly　closed；　as　if

it　had　been　grasping　a　larger　hand。　　On　the　face　lay　confidence　just

ruffled　with　apprehension：　the　latter　melted　away；　and　nothing

remained　but　that　awful　and　beautiful　peace　which　is　the　farewell　of

the　soul　to　its　servant。



Robert　knelt　and　thanked　God　for　the　noble　man。









CHAPTER　V。



A　TALK　WITH　GRANNIE。



Dr。　Anderson's　body　was；　according　to　the　fine　custom　of　many　of　the

people　of　Aberdeen；　borne　to　the　grave　by　twelve　stalwart　men　in

black；　with　broad　round　bonnets　on　their　heads；　the　one…half

relieving　the　othera　privilege　of　the　company　of　shore…porters。

Their　exequies　are　thus　freed　from　the　artificial；　grotesque；　and

pagan　horror　given　by　obscene　mutes；　frightful　hearse；　horses；　and

feathers。　　As　soon　as；　in　the　beautiful　phrase　of　the　Old　Testament；

John　Anderson　was　thus　gathered　to　his　fathers；　Robert　went　to　pay　a

visit　to　his　grandmother。



Dressed　to　a　point　in　the　same　costume　in　which　he　had　known　her

from　childhood；　he　found　her　little　altered　in　appearance。　　She　was

one　of　those　who　instead　of　stooping　with　age；　settle　downwards：　she

was　still　as　erect　as　ever；　though　shorter。　　Her　step　was　feebler；

and　when　she　prayed；　her　voice　quavered　more。　　On　her　face　sat　the

same　settled；　almost　hard　repose；　as　ever；　but　her　behaviour　was

still　more　gentle　than　when　he　had　seen　her　last。　　Notwithstanding；

however；　that　time　had　wrought　so　little　change　in　her　appearance；

Robert　felt　that　somehow　the　mist　of　a　separation　between　her　world

and　his　was　gathering；　that　she　was；　as　it　were；　fading　from　his

sight　and　presence；　like　the　moon　towards　'her　interlunar　cave。'

Her　face　was　gradually　turning　from　him　towards　the　land　of　light。



'I　hae　buried　my　best　frien'　but　yersel'；　grannie；'　he　said；　as　he

took　a　chair　close　by　her　side；　where　he　used　to　sit　when　he　read

the　Bible　and　Boston　to　her。



'I　trust　he's　happy。　　He　was　a　douce　and　a　weel…behaved　man；　and　ye

hae　rizzon　to　respec'　his　memory。　　Did　he　dee　the　deith　o'　the

richteous；　think　ye；　laddie？'



'I　do　think　that；　grannie。　　He　loved　God　and　his　Saviour。'



'The　Lord　be　praised！'　said　Mrs。　Falconer。　'I　had　guid　houps　o'　'im

in　's　latter　days。　　And　fowk　says　he's　made　a　rich　man　o'　ye；

Robert？'



'He's　left　me　ilka　thing；　excep'　something　till　's　servan'swha　hae

weel　deserved　it。'



'Eh；　Robert！　but　it's　a　terrible　snare。　　Siller　's　an　awfu'　thing。

My　puir　Anerew　never　begud　to　gang　the　ill　gait；　till　he　began　to

hae　ower　muckle　siller。　　But　it　badena　lang　wi'　'im。'



'But　it's　no　an　ill　thing　itsel'；　grannie；　for　God　made　siller　as

weel　's　ither　things。'



'He　thinksna　muckle　o'　't；　though；　or　he　wad　gie　mair　o'　't　to　some

fowk。　　But　as　ye　say；　it's　his；　and　gin　ye　hae　grace　to　use　't

aricht；　it　may　be　made　a　great　blessin'　to　yersel'　and　ither　fowk。

But　eh；　laddie！　tak　guid　tent　'at　ye　ride　upo'　the　tap　o'　't；　an'

no　lat　it　rise　like　a　muckle　jaw　（billow）　ower　yer　heid；　for　it's　an

awfu'　thing　to　be　droont　in　riches。'



'Them　'at　prays　no　to　be　led　into　temptation　hae　a　chancehaena

they；　grannie？'



'That　hae　they；　Robert。　　And　to　be　plain　wi'　ye；　I　haena　that　muckle

fear　o'　ye；　for　I　hae　heard　the　kin'　o'　life　'at　ye　hae　been

leadin'。　　God's　hearkent　to　my　prayers　for　you；　and　gin　ye　gang　on

as　ye　hae　begun；　my　prayers；　like　them　o'　David　the　son　o'　Jesse；

are　endit。　　Gang　on；　my　dear　lad；　gang　on　to　pluck　brands　frae　the

burnin'。　　Haud　oot　a　helpin'　han'　to　ilka　son　and　dauchter　o'　Adam

'at　will　tak　a　grip　o'　't。　　Be　a　burnin'　an'　a　shinin'　licht；　that

men　may　praise；　no　you；　for　ye're　but　clay　i'　the　han's　o'　the

potter；　but　yer　Father　in　heaven。　　Tak　the　drunkard　frae　his　whusky；

the　deboshed　frae　his　debosh；　the　sweirer　frae　his　aiths；　the　leear

frae　his　lees；　and　giena　ony　o'　them　ower　muckle　o'　yer　siller　at

ance；　for　fear　'at　they　grow　fat　an'　kick　an'　defy　God　and　you。

That's　my　advice　to　ye；　Robert。'



'And　I　houp　I'll　be　able　to　haud　gey　and　near　till　't；　grannie；　for

it's　o'　the　best。　　But　wha　tellt　ye　what　I　was　aboot　in　Lonnon？'



'Himsel'。'



'Dr。　Anderson？'



'Ay；　jist　himsel'。　　I　hae　had　letter　upo'　letter　frae　'im　aboot　you

and　a'　'at　ye　was　aboot。　　He　keepit　me　acquant　wi'　't　a'。'



This　fresh　proof　of　his　friend's　affection　touched　Robert　deeply。

He　had　himself　written　often　to　his　grandmother；　but　he　had　never

entered　into　any　detail　of　his　doings；　although　the　thought　of　her

was　ever　at　hand　beside　the　thought　of　his　father。



'Do　ye　ken；　grannie；　what's　at　the　hert　o'　my　houps　i'　the　meesery

an'　degradation　that　I　see　frae　mornin'　to　nicht；　and　aftener　yet

frae　nicht　to　mornin'　i'　the　back　closes　and　wynds　o'　the　great

city？'



'I　trust　it's　the　glory　o'　God；　laddie。'



'I　houp　that's　no　a'thegither　wantin'；　grannie。　　For　I　love　God　wi'

a'　my　hert。　　But　I　doobt　it's　aftener　the　savin'　o'　my　earthly

father　nor　the　glory　o'　my　heavenly　ane　that　I'm　thinkin'　o'。'



Mrs。　Falconer　heaved　a　deep　sigh。



'God　grant　ye　success；　Robert；'　she　said。　'But　that　canna　be　richt。'



'What　canna　be　richt？'



'No　to　put　the　glory　o'　God　first　and　foremost。'



'Weel；　grannie；　but　a　body　canna　rise　to　the　heicht　o'　grace　a'　at

ance；　nor　yet　in　ten；　or　twenty　year。　　Maybe　gin　I　do　richt；　I　may

be　able　to　come　to　that　or　a'　be　dune。　　An'　efter　a'；　I'm　sure　I

love　God　mair　nor　my　father。　　But　I　canna　help　thinkin'　this；　that

gin　God　heardna　ae　sang　o'　glory　frae　this　ill…doin'　earth　o'　his；

he　wadna　be　nane　the　waur；　but'



'Hoo　ken　ye　that？'　interrupted　his　grandmother。



'Because　he　wad　be　as　gude　and　great　and　grand　as　ever。'



'Ow　ay。'



'But　what　wad　come　o'　my　father　wantin'　his　salvation？　　He　can　waur

want　that；　remainin'　the　slave　o'　iniquity；　than　God　can　want　his

glory。　　Forby；　ye　ken　there's　nae　glory　to　God　like　the　repentin'　o'

a　sinner；　justifeein'　God；　an'　sayin'　till　him〃Father；　ye're　a'

richt；　an'　I'm　a'　wrang。〃　　What　greater　glory　can　God　hae　nor　that？'



'It's　a'　true　'at　ye　say。　　But　still　gin　God　cares　for　that　same

glory；　ye　oucht　to　think　o'　that　first；　afore　even　the　salvation　o'

yer　father。'



'Maybe　ye're　richt；　grannie。　　An'　gin　it　be　as　ye　sayhe's　promised

to　lead　us　into　a'　trowth；　an'　he'll　lead　me　into　that　trowth。　　But

I'm　thinkin'　it's　mair　for　oor　sakes　than　his　ain　'at　he　cares　aboot

his　glory。　　I　dinna　believe　'at　he　thinks　aboot　his　glory　excep'　for

the　sake　o'　the　trowth　an'　men's　herts　deein'　for　want　o'　't。'



Mrs。　Falconer　thought　for　a　moment。



'It　may　be　'at　ye're　richt；　laddie；　but　ye　hae　a　way　o'　sayin'

things　'at　's　some　fearsome。'



'God's　nae　like　a　prood　man　to