robert falconer-第51部分

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that　gait　i'　the　weet。'



'Amen；'　said　Ericson；　turning　with　a　smile　that　glimmered　wan

through　the　misty　night。　　Then　changing　his　tone；　he　went　on：　'What

are　you　after；　Robert？'



'You；'　answered　Robert。　'I　cudna　bide　to　be　left　my　lane　whan　I

micht　be　wi'　ye　a'　the　timegin　ye　wad　lat　me。　　Ye　war　oot　o'　the

hoose　afore　I　weel　kent　what　ye　was　aboot。　　It's　no　a　fit　nicht　for

ye　to　be　oot　at　a'；　mair　by　token　'at　ye're　no　the　ablest　to　stan'

cauld　an'　weet。'



'I've　stood　a　great　deal　of　both　in　my　time；'　returned　Ericson；　'but

come　along。　　We'll　go　and　get　that　fiddle…string。'



'Dinna　ye　think　it　wad　be　fully　better　to　gang　hame？'　　Robert

ventured　to　suggest。



'What　would　be　the　use？　　I'm　in　no　mood　for　Plato　to…night；'　he

answered；　trying　hard　to　keep　from　shivering。



'Ye　hae　an　ill　cauld　upo'　ye；'　persisted　Robert；　'an'　ye　maun　be　as

weet　's　a　dishcloot。'



Ericson　laugheda　strange；　hollow　laugh。



'Come　along；'　he　said。　'A　walk　will　do　me　good。　　We'll　get　the

string；　and　then　you　shall　play　to　me。　　That　will　do　me　more　good

yet。'



Robert　ceased　opposing　him；　and　they　walked　together　to　the　new

town。　　Robert　bought　the　string；　and　they　set　out；　as　he　thought；　to

return。



But　not　yet　did　Ericson　seem　inclined　to　go　home。　　He　took　the　lead；

and　they　emerged　upon　the　quay。



There　were　not　many　vessels。　　One　of　them　was　the　Antwerp　tub；

already　known　to　Robert。　　He　recognized　her　even　in　the　dull　light

of　the　quay　lamps。　　Her　captain　being　a　prudent　and　well…to…do

Dutchman；　never　slept　on　shore；　he　preferred　saving　his　money；　and

therefore；　as　the　friends　passed；　Robert　caught　sight　of　him　walking

his　own　deck　and　smoking　a　long　clay　pipe　before　turning　in。



'A　fine　nicht；　capt'n；'　said　Robert。



'It　does　rain；'　returned　the　captain。　'Will　you　come　on　board　and

have　one　schnapps　before　you　turn　in？'



'I　hae　a　frien'　wi'　me　here；'　said　Robert；　feeling　his　way。



'Let　him　come　and　be　welcomed。'



Ericson　making　no　objection；　they　went　on　board；　and　down　into　the

neat　little　cabin；　which　was　all　the　roomier　for　the　straightness　of

the　vessel's　quarter。　　The　captain　got　out　a　square；

coffin…shouldered　bottle；　and　having　respect　to　the　condition　of

their　garments；　neither　of　the　young　men　refused　his　hospitality；

though　Robert　did　feel　a　little　compunction　at　the　thought　of　the

horror　it　would　have　caused　his　grandmother。　　Then　the　Dutchman　got

out　his　violin　and　asked　Robert　to　play　a　Scotch　air。　　But　in　the

middle　of　it　his　eyes　fell　on　Ericson；　and　he　stopped　at　once。

Ericson　was　sitting　on　a　locker；　leaning　back　against　the　side　of

the　vessel：　his　eyes　were　open　and　fixed；　and　he　seemed　quite

unconscious　of　what　was　passing。　　Robert　fancied　at　first　that　the

hollands　he　had　taken　had　gone　to　his　head；　but　he　saw　at　the　same

moment；　from　his　glass；　that　he　had　scarcely　tasted　the　spirit。　　In

great　alarm　they　tried　to　rouse　him；　and　at　length　succeeded。　　He

closed　his　eyes；　opened　them　again；　rose　up；　and　was　going　away。



'What's　the　maitter　wi'　ye；　Mr。　Ericson？'　said　Robert；　in　distress。



'Nothing；　nothing；'　answered　Ericson；　in　a　strange　voice。　'I　fell

asleep；　I　believe。　　It　was　very　bad　manners；　captain。　　I　beg　your

pardon。　　I　believe　I　am　overtired。'



The　Dutchman　was　as　kind　as　possible；　and　begged　Ericson　to　stay　the

night　and　occupy　his　berth。　　But　he　insisted　on　going　home；　although

he　was　clearly　unfit　for　such　a　walk。　　They　bade　the　skipper

good…night；　went　on　shore；　and　set　out；　Ericson　leaning　rather

heavily　upon　Robert's　arm。　　Robert　led　him　up　Marischal　Street。



The　steep　ascent　was　too　much　for　Ericson。　　He　stood　still　upon　the

bridge　and　leaned　over　the　wall　of　it。　　Robert　stood　beside；　almost

in　despair　about　getting　him　home。



'Have　patience　with　me；　Robert；'　said　Ericson；　in　his　natural　voice。

'I　shall　be　better　presently。　　I　don't　know　what's　come　to　me。　　If　I

had　been　a　Celt　now；　I　should　have　said　I　had　a　touch　of　the　second

sight。　　But　I　am；　as　far　as　I　know；　pure　Northman。'



'What　did　you　see？'　asked　Robert；　with　a　strange　feeling　that　miles

of　the　spirit　world；　if　one　may　be　allowed　such　a　contradiction　in

words；　lay　between　him　and　his　friend。



Ericson　returned　no　answer。　　Robert　feared　he　was　going　to　have　a

relapse；　but　in　a　moment　more　he　lifted　himself　up　and　bent　again　to

the　brae。



They　got　on　pretty　well　till　they　were　about　the　middle　of　the

Gallowgate。



'I　can't；'　said　Ericson　feebly；　and　half　leaned；　half　fell　against

the　wall　of　a　house。



'Come　into　this　shop；'　said　Robert。　'I　ken　the　man。　　He'll　lat　ye

sit　doon。'



He　managed　to　get　him　in。　　He　was　as　pale　as　death。　　The　bookseller

got　a　chair；　and　he　sank　into　it。　　Robert　was　almost　at　his　wit's

end。　　There　was　no　such　thing　as　a　cab　in　Aberdeen　for　years　and

years　after　the　date　of　my　story。　　He　was　holding　a　glass　of　water

to　Ericson's　lips；when　he　heard　his　name；　in　a　low　earnest

whisper；　from　the　door。　　There；　round　the　door…cheek；　peered　the

white　face　and　red　head　of　Shargar。



'Robert！　　Robert！'　said　Shargar。



'I　hear　ye；'　returned　Robert　coolly：　he　was　too　anxious　to　be

surprised　at　anything。　'Haud　yer　tongue。　　I'll　come　to　ye　in　a

minute。'



Ericson　recovered　a　little；　refused　the　whisky　offered　by　the

bookseller；　rose；　and　staggered　out。



'If　I　were　only　home！'　he　said。　'But　where　is　home？'



'We'll　try　to　mak　ane；'　returned　Robert。　'Tak　a　haud　o'　me。　　Lay　yer

weicht　upo'　me。Gin　it　warna　for　yer　len'th；　I　cud　cairry　ye　weel

eneuch。　　Whaur's　that　Shargar？'　he　muttered　to　himself；　looking　up

and　down　the　gloomy　street。



But　no　Shargar　was　to　be　seen。　　Robert　peered　in　vain　into　every

dark　court　they　crept　past；　till　at　length　he　all　but　came　to　the

conclusion　that　Shargar　was　only　'fantastical。'



When　they　had　reached　the　hollow；　and　were　crossing　then

canal…bridge　by　Mount　Hooly；　Ericson's　strength　again　failed　him；

and　again　he　leaned　upon　the　bridge。　　Nor　had　he　leaned　long　before

Robert　found　that　he　had　fainted。　　In　desperation　he　began　to　hoist

the　tall　form　upon　his　back；　when　he　heard　the　quick　step　of　a

runner　behind　him　and　the　words



'Gie　'im　to　me；　Robert；　gie　'im　to　me。　　I　can　carry　'im　fine。'



'Haud　awa'　wi'　ye；'　returned　Robert；　and　again　Shargar　fell　behind。



For　a　few　hundred　yards　he　trudged　along　manfully；　but　his　strength；

more　from　the　nature　of　his　burden　than　its　weight；　soon　gave　way。

He　stood　still　to　recover。　　The　same　moment　Shargar　was　by　his　side

again。



'Noo；　Robert；'　he　said；　pleadingly。



Robert　yielded；　and　the　burden　was　shifted　to　Shargar's　back。



How　they　managed　it　they　hardly　knew　themselves；　but　after　many

changes　they　at　last　got　Ericson　home；　and　up　to　his　own　room。　　He

had　revived　several　times；　but　gone　off　again。　　In　one　of　his

faints；　Robert　undressed　him　and　got　him　into　bed。　　He　had　so　little

to　cover　him；　that　Robert　could　not　help　crying　with　misery。　　He

himself　was　well　provided；　and　would　gladly　have　shared　with

Ericson；　but　that　was　hopeless。　　He　could；　however；　make　him　warm　in

bed。　　Then　leaving　Shargar　in　charge；　he　sped　back　to　the　new　town

to　Dr。　Anderson。　　The　doctor　had　his　carriage　out　at　once；　wrapped

Robert　in　a　plaid　and　brought　him　home　with　him。



Ericson　came　to　himself；　and　seeing　Shargar　by　his　bedside；　tried　to

sit　up；　asking　feebly；



'Where　am　I？'



'In　yer　ain　bed；　Mr。　Ericson；'　answered　Shargar。



'And　who　are　you？'　asked　Ericson　again；　bewildered。



Shargar's　pale　face　no　doubt　looked　strange　under　his　crown　of　red

hair。



'Ow！　　I'm　naebody。'



'You　must　be　somebody；　or　else　my　brain's　in　a　bad　state；'　returned

Ericson。



'Na；　na；　I'm　naebody。　　Naething　ava　（at　all）。　　Robert　'll　be　hame　in

ae　meenit。I'm　Robert's　tyke　（dog）；'　concluded　Shargar；　with　a

sudden　inspiration。



This　answer　seemed　to　satisfy　Ericson；　for　he　closed　his　eyes　and

lay　still；　nor　did　he　speak　again　till　Robert　arrived　with　the

doctor。



Poor　food；　scanty　clothing；　undue　exertion　in　travelling　to　and　from

the　university；　hard　mental　effort　against　weakness；　disquietude　of

mind；　all　borne　with　an　endurance　unconscious　of　itself；　had　reduced

Eric　Ericson　to　his　present　condition。　　Strength　had　given　way　at

last；　and　he　was　now　lying　in　the　low　border　wash　of　a　dead　sea　of

fever。



The　last　of　an　ancient　race　of　poor　men；　he　had　no　relative　but　a

second　cousin；　and　no　means　except　the　little　he　advanced　him；

chiefly　in　kind；　to　be　paid　for　when　Eric　had　a　profession。　　This

cousin　was　in　the　herring　trade；　and　the　chief　assistance　he　gave

him　was　to　send　him　by　sea；　from　Wick　to　Aberdeen；　a　small　barrel　of

his　fish　every　session。　　One　herring；　with　two　or　three　potatoes；

formed　his　dinner　as　long　as　the　barrel　lasted。　　But　at　Aberdeen　or

elsewhere　no　one　carried　his　head　more　erect　than　Eric　Ericsonnot

from　pride；　but　from　simplicity　and　inborn　dignity；　and　there　was

not　a　man　during　his　curriculum　more　respected　than　he。　　An

excellent　classical　scholaras　scholarship　went　in　those　dayshe

was　almost　the　only　man　in　the　university　who　made　his　knowledge　of

Latin　serve　towards　an　acquaintance　with　the　Romance　languages。　　He

had　gained　a　small　bursary；　and　gave　lessons　when　he　could。



But　having　no　level　channel　for　the　outgoing　of　the　waters　of　one　of

the　tenderest　hearts　that　ever　lived；　those　waters　had　sought　to

break　a　passage　upwards。　　Herein　his　experience　corresponded　in　a

considerable　degree　to　that　of　Robert；　only　Eric's　more　fastidious

and　more　instructed　nature　bred　a　thousand　difficulties　which　he

would　meet　one　by　one；　whereas　Robert；　less　delicate　and　more

robust；　would　break　through　all　the　oppositions　of　theological

science　falsely　so　called；　and　take　the　kingdom　of　heaven　by　force。

But　indeed　the　ruins　of　the　ever　falling　temple　of　theology　had

accumulated　far　mo