robert falconer-第56节

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ye；　ye　wadna　speyk　like　that。　　Jist　lat　me　sit　an'　leuk　at　ye。　　I

want　nae　mair。'



A　smile　broke　up　the　cold；　sad；　gray　light　of　the　young　eagle…face。

Stern　at　once　and　gentle　when　in　repose；　its　smile　was　as　the

summer　of　some　lovely　land　where　neither　the　heat　nor　the　sun　shall

smite　them。　　The　youth　laid　his　hand　upon　the　boy's　head；　then

withdrew　it　hastily；　and　the　smile　vanished　like　the　sun　behind　a

cloud。　　Robert　saw　it；　and　as　if　he　had　been　David　before　Saul；　rose

instinctively　and　said；



'I'll　gang　for　my　fiddle。Hoots！　　I　hae　broken　ane　o'　the　strings。

We　maun　bide　till　the　morn。　　But　I　want　nae　fiddle　mysel'　whan　I

hear　the　great　water　oot　there。'



'You're　young　yet；　my　boy；　or　you　might　hear　voices　in　that　water！

I've　lived　in　the　sound　of　it　all　my　days。　　When　I　can't　rest　at

night；　I　hear　a　moaning　and　crying　in　the　dark；　and　I　lie　and　listen

till　I　can't　tell　whether　I'm　a　man　or　some　God…forsaken　sea　in　the

sunless　north。'



'Sometimes　I　believe　in　naething　but　my　fiddle；'　answered　Robert。



'Yes；　yes。　　But　when　it　comes　into　you；　my　boy！　　You　won't　hear　much

music　in　the　cry　of　the　sea　after　that。　　As　long　as　you've　got　it　at

arm's　length；　it's　all　very　well。　　It's　interesting　then；　and　you

can　talk　to　your　fiddle　about　it；　and　make　poetry　about　it；'　said

Ericson；　with　a　smile　of　self…contempt。　'But　as　soon　as　the　real

earnest　comes　that　is　all　over。　　The　sea…moan　is　the　cry　of　a

tortured　world　then。　　Its　hollow　bed　is　the　cup　of　the　world's　pain；

ever　rolling　from　side　to　side　and　dashing　over　its　lip。　　Of　all

that　might　be；　ought　to　be；　nothing　to　be　had！I　could　get　music

out　of　it　once。　　Look　here。　　I　could　trifle　like　that　once。'



He　half　rose；　then　dropped　on　his　chair。　　But　Robert's　believing

eyes　justified　confidence；　and　Ericson　had　never　had　any　one　to　talk

to。　　He　rose　again；　opened　a　cupboard　at　his　side；　took　out　some

papers；　threw　them　on　the　table；　and；　taking　his　hat；　walked　towards

the　door。



'Which　of　your　strings　is　broken？'　he　asked。



'The　third；'　answered　Robert。



'I　will　get　you　one；'　said　Ericson；　and　before　Robert　could　reply　he

was　down　the　stair。　　Robert　heard　him　cough；　then　the　door　shut；　and

he　was　gone　in　the　rain　and　fog。



Bewildered；　unhappy；　ready　to　fly　after　him；　yet　irresolute；　Robert

almost　mechanically　turned　over　the　papers　upon　the　little　deal

table。　　He　was　soon　arrested　by　the　following　verses；　headed



A　NOONDAY　MELODY。



Everything　goes　to　its　rest；

　　The　hills　are　asleep　in　the　noon；

And　life　is　as　still　in　its　nest

　　As　the　moon　when　she　looks　on　a　moon

In　the　depths　of　a　calm　river's　breast

　　As　it　steals　through　a　midnight　in　June。



The　streams　have　forgotten　the　sea

　　In　the　dream　of　their　musical　sound；

The　sunlight　is　thick　on　the　tree；

　　And　the　shadows　lie　warm　on　the　ground

So　still；　you　may　watch　them　and　see

　　Every　breath　that　awakens　around。



The　churchyard　lies　still　in　the　heat；

　　With　its　handful　of　mouldering　bone；

As　still　as　the　long　stalk　of　wheat

　　In　the　shadow　that　sits　by　the　stone；

As　still　as　the　grass　at　my　feet

　　When　I　walk　in　the　meadows　alone。



The　waves　are　asleep　on　the　main；

　　And　the　ships　are　asleep　on　the　wave；

And　the　thoughts　are　as　still　in　my　brain

　　As　the　echo　that　sleeps　in　the　cave；

All　rest　from　their　labour　and　pain

　　Then　why　should　not　I　in　my　grave？



His　heart　ready　to　burst　with　a　sorrow；　admiration；　and　devotion；

which　no　criticism　interfered　to　qualify；　Robert　rushed　out　into　the

darkness；　and　sped；　fleet…footed；　along　the　only　path　which　Ericson

could　have　taken。　　He　could　not　bear　to　be　left　in　the　house　while

his　friend　was　out　in　the　rain。



He　was　sure　of　joining　him　before　he　reached　the　new　town；　for　he

was　fleet…footed；　and　there　was　a　path　only　on　one　side　of　the　way；

so　that　there　was　no　danger　of　passing　him　in　the　dark。　　As　he　ran

he　heard　the　moaning　of　the　sea。　　There　must　be　a　storm　somewhere；

away　in　the　deep　spaces　of　its　dark　bosom；　and　its　lips　muttered　of

its　far　unrest。　　When　the　sun　rose　it　would　be　seen　misty　and　gray；

tossing　about　under　the　one　rain　cloud　that　like　a　thinner　ocean

overspread　the　heavenstossing　like　an　animal　that　would　fain　lie

down　and　be　at　peace　but　could　not　compose　its　unwieldy　strength。



Suddenly　Robert　slackened　his　speed；　ceased　running；　stood；　gazed

through　the　darkness　at　a　figure　a　few　yards　before　him。



An　old　wall；　bowed　out　with　age　and　the　weight　behind　it；　flanked

the　road　in　this　part。　　Doors　in　this　wall；　with　a　few　steps　in

front　of　them　and　more　behind；　led　up　into　gardens　upon　a　slope；　at

the　top　of　which　stood　the　houses　to　which　they　belonged。　　Against

one　of　these　doors　the　figure　stood　with　its　head　bowed　upon　its

hands。　　When　Robert　was　within　a　few　feet；　it　descended　and　went　on。



'Mr。　Ericson！'　exclaimed　Robert。　'Ye'll　get　yer　deith　gin　ye　stan'

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

s