robert falconer-第43部分

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Mrs。　Falconer　saw　that　he　still　went　away　as　he　had　been　wont；　and

instituted　observations；　the　result　of　which　was　the　knowledge　that

he　went　to　his　own　room。　　Her　heart　smote　her；　and　she　saw　that　the

boy　looked　sad　and　troubled。　　There　was　scarce　room　in　her　heart　for

increase　of　love；　but　much　for　increase　of　kindness；　and　she　did

increase　it。　　In　truth；　he　needed　the　smallest　crumb　of　comfort　that

might　drop　from　the　table　of　God's　'feastful　friends。'



Night　after　night　he　returned　to　the　parlour　cold　to　the　very　heart。

God　was　not　to　be　found；　he　said　then。　　He　said　afterwards　that

even　then　'God　was　with　him　though　he　knew　it　not。'



For　the　very　first　night；　the　moment　that　he　knelt　and　cried；　'O

Father　in　heaven；　hear　me；　and　let　thy　face　shine　upon　me'like　a

flash　of　burning　fire　the　words　shot　from　the　door　of　his　heart：　'I

dinna　care　for　him　to　love　me；　gin　he　doesna　love　ilka　body；'　and　no

more　prayer　went　from　the　desolate　boy　that　night；　although　he　knelt

an　hour　of　agony　in　the　freezing　dark。　　Loyal　to　what　he　had　been

taught；　he　struggled　hard　to　reduce　his　rebellious　will　to　what　he

supposed　to　be　the　will　of　God。　It　was　all　in　vain。　　Ever　a　voice

within　himsurely　the　voice　of　that　God　who　he　thought　was　not

hearingtold　him　that　what　he　wanted　was　the　love　belonging　to　his

human　nature；　his　human　needsnot　the　preference　of　a

court…favourite。　　He　had　a　dim　consciousness　that　he　would　be　a

traitor　to　his　race　if　he　accepted　a　love；　even　from　God；　given　him

as　an　exception　from　his　kind。　　But　he　did　not　care　to　have　such　a

love。　　It　was　not　what　his　heart　yearned　for。　　It　was　not　love。　　He

could　not　love　such　a　love。　　Yet　he　strove　against　it　allfought

for　religion　against　right　as　he　could；　struggled　to　reduce　his

rebellious　feelings；　to　love　that　which　was　unlovely；　to　choose　that

which　was　abhorrent；　until　nature　almost　gave　way　under　the　effort。

Often　would　he　sink　moaning　on　the　floor；　or　stretch　himself　like　a

corpse；　save　that　it　was　face　downwards；　on　the　boards　of　the

bedstead。　　Night　after　night　he　returned　to　the　battle；　but　with　no

permanent　success。　　What　a　success　that　would　have　been！　　Night

after　night　he　came　pale　and　worn　from　the　conflict；　found　his

grandmother　and　Shargar　composed；　and　in　the　quietness　of　despair

sat　down　beside　them　to　his　Latin　version。



He　little　thought；　that　every　night；　at　the　moment　when　he　stirred

to　leave　the　upper　room；　a　pale…faced；　red…eyed　figure　rose　from　its

seat　on　the　top　of　the　stair　by　the　door；　and　sped　with　long…legged

noiselessness　to　resume　its　seat　by　the　grandmother　before　he　should

enter。　　Shargar　saw　that　Robert　was　unhappy；　and　the　nearest　he

could　come　to　the　sharing　of　his　unhappiness　was　to　take　his　place

outside　the　door　within　which　he　had　retreated。　　Little；　too；　did

Shargar；　on　his　part；　think　that　Robert；　without　knowing　it；　was

pleading　for　him　insidepleading　for　him　and　for　all　his　race　in

the　weeping　that　would　not　be　comforted。



Robert　had　not　the　vaguest　fancy　that　God　was　with　himthe　spirit

of　the　Father　groaning　with　the　spirit　of　the　boy　in　intercession

that　could　not　be　uttered。　　If　God　had　come　to　him　then　and

comforted　him　with　the　assurance　of　individual　favourbut　the　very

supposition　is　a　taking　of　his　name　in　vainhad　Robert　found

comfort　in　the　fancied　assurance　that　God　was　his　friend　in

especial；　that　some　private　favour　was　granted　to　his　prayers；　that；

indeed；　would　have　been　to　be　left　to　his　own　inventions；　to　bring

forth　not　fruits　meet　for　repentance；　but　fruits　for　which

repentance　alone　is　meet。　　But　God　was　with　him；　and　was　indeed

victorious　in　the　boy　when　he　rose　from　his　knees；　for　the　last

time；　as　he　thought；　saying；　'I　cannot　yieldI　will　pray　no

more。'With　a　burst　of　bitter　tears　he　sat　down　on　the　bedside　till

the　loudest　of　the　storm　was　over；　then　dried　his　dull　eyes；　in

which　the　old　outlook　had　withered　away；　and　trod　unknowingly　in　the

silent　footsteps　of　Shargar；　who　was　ever　one　corner　in　advance　of

him；　down　to　the　dreary　lessons　and　unheeded　prayers；　but；　thank

God；　not　to　the　sleepless　night；　for　some　griefs　bring　sleep　the

sooner。



My　reader　must　not　mistake　my　use　of　the　words　especial　and　private；

or　suppose　that　I　do　not　believe　in　an　individual　relation　between

every　man　and　God；　yes；　a　peculiar　relation；　differing　from　the

relation　between　every　other　man　and　God！　　But　this　very

individuality　and　peculiarity　can　only　be　founded　on　the　broadest

truths　of　the　Godhood　and　the　manhood。



Mrs。　Falconer；　ere　she　went　to　sleep；　gave　thanks　that　the　boys　had

been　at　their　prayers　together。　　And　so；　in　a　very　deep　sense；　they

had。



And　well　they　might　have　been；　for　Shargar　was　nearly　as　desolate　as

Robert；　and　would　certainly；　had　his　mother　claimed　him　now；　have

gone　on　the　tramp　with　her　again。　　Wherein　could　this　civilized　life

show　itself　to　him　better　than　that　to　which　he　had　been　born？　　For

clothing　he　cared　little；　and　he　had　always　managed　to　kill　his

hunger　or　thirst；　if　at　longer　intervals；　then　with　greater

satisfaction。　　Wherein　is　the　life　of　that　man　who　merely　does　his

eating　and　drinking　and　clothing　after　a　civilized　fashion　better

than　that　of　the　gipsy　or　tramp？　　If　the　civilized　man　is　honest　to

boot；　and　gives　good　work　in　return　for　the　bread　or　turtle　on　which

he　dines；　and　the　gipsy；　on　the　other　hand；　steals　his　dinner；　I

recognize　the　importance　of　the　difference；　but　if　the　rich　man

plunders　the　community　by　exorbitant　profits；　or　speculation　with

other　people's　money；　while　the　gipsy　adds　a　fowl　or　two　to　the

produce　of　his　tinkering；　or；　once　again；　if　the　gipsy　is　as　honest

as　the　honest　citizen；　which　is　not　so　rare　a　case　by　any　means　as

people　imagine；　I　return　to　my　question：　Wherein；　I　say；　is　the　warm

house；　the　windows　hung　with　purple；　and　the　table　covered　with　fine

linen；　more　divine　than　the　tent　or　the　blue　sky；　and　the　dipping　in

the　dish？　　Why　should　not　Shargar　prefer　a　life　with　the　mother　God

had　given　him　to　a　life　with　Mrs。　Falconer？　　Why　should　he　prefer

geography　to　rambling；　or　Latin　to　Romany？　　His　purposelessness　and

his　love　for　Robert　alone　kept　him　where　he　was。



The　next　evening；　having　given　up　his　praying；　Robert　sat　with　his

Sallust　before　him。　　But　the　fount　of　tears　began　to　swell；　and　the

more　he　tried　to　keep　it　down；　the　more　it　went　on　swelling　till　his

throat　was　filled　with　a　lump　of　pain。　　He　rose　and　left　the　room。

But　he　could　not　go　near　the　garret。　　That　door　too　was　closed。　　He

opened　the　house　door　instead；　and　went　out　into　the　street。　　There；

nothing　was　to　be　seen　but　faint　blue　air　full　of　moonlight；　solid

houses；　and　shining　snow。　　Bareheaded　he　wandered　round　the　corner

of　the　house　to　the　window　whence　first　he　had　heard　the　sweet

sounds　of　the　pianoforte。　　The　fire　within　lighted　up　the　crimson

curtains；　but　no　voice　of　music　came　forth。　　The　window　was　as　dumb

as　the　pale；　faintly　befogged　moon　overhead；　itself　seeming　but　a

skylight　through　which　shone　the　sickly　light　of　the　passionless

world　of　the　dead。　　Not　a　form　was　in　the　street。　　The　eyes　of　the

houses　gleamed　here　and　there　upon　the　snow。　　He　leaned　his　elbow　on

the　window…sill　behind　which　stood　that　sealed　fountain　of　lovely

sound；　looked　up　at　the　moon；　careless　of　her　or　of　aught　else　in

heaven　or　on　earth；　and　sunk　into　a　reverie；　in　which　nothing　was

consciously　present　but　a　stream　of　fog…smoke　that　flowed　slowly；

listlessly　across　the　face　of　the　moon；　like　the　ghost　of　a　dead

cataract。　　All　at　once　a　wailful　sound　arose　in　his　head。　　He　did

not　think　for　some　time　whether　it　was　born　in　his　brain；　or　entered

it　from　without。　　At　length　he　recognized　the　Flowers　of　the　Forest；

played　as　only　the　soutar　could　play　it。　　But　alas！　the　cry

responsive　to　his　bow　came　only　from　the　auld　wifeno　more　from　the

bonny　leddy！　　Then　he　remembered　that　there　had　been　a　humble

wedding　that　morning　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　way；　in　the　street

department　of　the　jollity　of　which　Shargar　had　taken　a　small　share

by　firing　a　brass　cannon；　subsequently　confiscated　by　Mrs。　Falconer。

But　this　was　a　strange　tune　to　play　at　a　wedding！　　The　soutar

half…way　to　his　goal　of　drunkenness；　had　begun　to　repent　for　the

fiftieth　time　that　year；　had　with　his　repentance　mingled　the　memory

of　the　bonny　leddy　ruthlessly　tortured　to　death　for　his　wrong；　and

had　glided　from　a　strathspey　into　that　sorrowful　moaning。　　The

lament　interpreted　itself　to　his　disconsolate　pupil　as　he　had　never

understood　it　before；　not　even　in　the　stubble…field；　for　it　now

spoke　his　own　feelings　of　waste　misery；　forsaken　loneliness。　　Indeed

Robert　learned　more　of　music　in　those　few　minutes　of　the　foggy

winter　night　and　open　street；　shut　out　of　all　doors；　with　the　tones

of　an　ancient　grief　and　lamentation　floating　through　the　blotted

moonlight　over　his　ever…present　sorrow；　than　he　could　have　learned

from　many　lessons　even　of　Miss　St。　John。　He　was　cold　to　the　heart；

yet　went　in　a　little　comforted。



Things　had　gone　ill　with　him。　　Outside　of　Paradise；　deserted　of　his

angel；　in　the　frost　and　the　snow；　the　voice　of　the　despised　violin

once　more　the　source　of　a　sad　comfort！　　But　there　is　no　better

discipline　than　an　occasional　descent　from　what　we　count　well…being；

to　a　former　despised　or　less　happy　condition。　　One　of　the　results　of

this　taste　of　damnation　in　Robert　was；　that　when　he　was　in　bed　that

night；　his　heart　began　to　turn　gently　towards　his　old　master。　　How

much　did　he　not　owe　him；　after　all！　　Had　he　not　acted　ill　and

ungratefully　in　deserting　him？　　His　own　vessel　filled　to　the　brim

with　grief；　had　he　not　let　the　waters　of　its　bitterness　overflow

into　the　heart　of　the　soutar？　　The　wail　of　that　violin　echoed　now　in

Robert's　heart；　not　for　Flodden；　not　for　himself；　but　for　the

debased　nature　that　drew　forth　the　plaint。　　Comrades　in　misery；　why

sho