robert falconer-第72节

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terror。



'I　mean；　my　boy；　that　I　shall　not　live　long。　　I　know　thatthank

God！'



'How　do　you　know　it？'



'My　father　died　at　thirty；　and　my　mother　at　six…and…twenty；　both　of

the　same　disease。　　But　that's　not　how　I　know　it。'



'How　do　you　know　it　then？'



Ericson　returned　no　answer。　　He　only　said



'Death　will　be　better　than　life。　　One　thing　I　don't　like　about　it

though；'　he　added；　'is　the　coming　on　of　unconsciousness。　　I　cannot

bear　to　lose　my　consciousness　even　in　sleep。　　It　is　such　a　terrible

thing！'



'I　suppose　that's　ane　o'　the　reasons　that　we　canna　be　content

withoot　a　God；'　responded　Robert。　'It's　dreidfu'　to　think　even　o'

fa'in'　asleep　withoot　some　ane　greater　an'　nearer　than　the　me

watchin'　ower　't。　　But　I'm　jist　sayin'　ower　again　what　I　hae　read　in

ane　o'　your　papers；　Mr。　Ericson。　　Jist　lat　me　luik。'



Venturing　more　than　he　had　ever　yet　ventured；　Robert　rose　and　went

to　the　cupboard　where　Ericson's　papers　lay。　　His　friend　did　not

check　him。　　On　the　contrary；　he　took　the　papers　from　his　hand；　and

searched　for　the　poem　indicated。



'I'm　not　in　the　way　of　doing　this　sort　of　thing；　Robert；'　he　said。



'I　know　that；'　answered　Robert。



And　Ericson　read。



SLEEP。



Oh；　is　it　Death　that　comes

To　have　a　foretaste　of　the　whole？

　　To…night　the　planets　and　the　stars

　　Will　glimmer　through　my　window…bars；

But　will　not　shine　upon　my　soul。



For　I　shall　lie　as　dead；

Though　yet　I　am　above　the　ground；

　　All　passionless；　with　scarce　a　breath；

　　With　hands　of　rest　and　eyes　of　death；

I　shall　be　carried　swiftly　round。



Or　if　my　life　should　break

The　idle　night　with　doubtful　gleams

　　Through　mossy　arches　will　I　go；

　　Through　arches　ruinous　and　low；

And　chase　the　true　and　false　in　dreams。



Why　should　I　fall　asleep？

When　I　am　still　upon　my　bed；

　　The　moon　will　shine；　the　winds　will　rise；

　　And　all　around　and　through　the　skies

The　light　clouds　travel　o'er　my　head。



O；　busy；　busy　things！

Ye　mock　me　with　your　ceaseless　life；

　　For　all　the　hidden　springs　will　flow；

　　And　all　the　blades　of　grass　will　grow；

When　I　have　neither　peace　nor　strife。



And　all　the　long　night　through；

The　restless　streams　will　hurry　by；

　　And　round　the　lands；　with　endless　roar；

　　The　white　waves　fall　upon　the　shore；

And　bit　by　bit　devour　the　dry。



Even　thus；　but　silently；

Eternity；　thy　tide　shall　flow

　　And　side　by　side　with　every　star

　　Thy　long…drawn　swell　shall　bear　me　far；

An　idle　boat　with　none　to　row。



My　senses　fail　with　sleep；

My　heart　beats　thick；　the　night　is　noon；

　　And　faintly　through　its　misty　folds

　　I　hear　a　drowsy　clock　that　holds

Its　converse　with　the　waning　moon。



Oh；　solemn　mystery！

That　I　should　be　so　closely　bound

　　With　neither　terror　nor　constraint

　　Without　a　murmur　of　complaint；

And　lose　myself　upon　such　ground！



'Rubbish！'　said　Ericson；　as　he　threw　down　the　sheets；　disgusted　with

his　own　work；　which　so　often　disappoints　the　writer；　especially　if

he　is　by　any　chance　betrayed　into　reading　it　aloud。



'Dinna　say　that；　Mr。　Ericson；'　returned　Robert。　'Ye　maunna　say　that。

Ye　hae　nae　richt　to　lauch　at　honest　wark；　whether　it　be　yer　ain　or

ony　ither　body's。　　The　poem　noo'



'Don't　call　it　a　poem；'　interrupted　Ericson。　'It's　not　worthy　of　the

name。'



'I　will　ca'　't　a　poem；'　persisted　Robert；　'for　it's　a　poem　to　me；

whatever　it　may　be　to　you。　　An'　hoo　I　ken　'at　it's　a　poem　is　jist

this：　it　opens　my　een　like　music　to　something　I　never　saw　afore。'



'What　is　that？'　asked　Ericson；　not　sorry　to　be　persuaded　that　there

might　after　all　be　some　merit　in　the　productions　painfully　despised

of　himself。



'Jist　this：　it's　only　whan　ye　dinna　want　to　fa'　asleep　'at　it　luiks

fearsome　to　ye。　　An'　maybe　the　fear　o'　death　comes　i'　the　same　way：

we're　feared　at　it　'cause　we're　no　a'thegither　ready　for　't；　but

whan　the　richt　time　comes；　it'll　be　as　nat'ral　as　fa'in'　asleep　whan

we're　doonricht　sleepy。　　Gin　there　be　a　God　to　ca'　oor　Father　in

heaven；　I'm　no　thinkin'　that　he　wad　to　sae　mony　bonny　tunes　pit　a

scraich　for　the　hinder　end。　　I'm　thinkin'；　gin　there　be　onything　in

't　avaye　ken　I'm　no　sayin'；　for　I　dinna　kenwe　maun　jist　lippen

till　him　to　dee　dacent　an'　bonny；　an'　nae　sic　strange　awfu'　fash

aboot　it　as　some　fowk　wad　mak　a　religion　o'　expeckin'。'



Ericson　looked　at　Robert　with　admiration　mingled　with　something　akin

to　merriment。



'One　would　think　it　was　your　grandfather　holding　forth；　Robert；'　he

said。　'How　came　you　to　think　of　such　things　at　your　age？'



'I'm　thinkin'；'　answered　Robert；　'ye　warna　muckle　aulder　nor　mysel'

whan　ye　took　to　sic　things；　Mr。　Ericson。　　But；　'deed；　maybe　my

luckie…daddie　（grandfather）　pat　them　i'　my　heid；　for　I　had　a　heap

ado　wi'　his　fiddle　for　a　while。　　She's　deid　noo。'



Not　understanding　him；　Ericson　began　to　question；　and　out　came　the

story　of　the　violins。　　They　talked　on　till　the　last　of　their　coals

was　burnt　out；　and　then　they　went　to　bed。



Shargar　had　undertaken　to　rouse　them　early；　that　they　might　set　out

on　their　long　walk　with　a　long　day　before　them。　　But　Robert　was

awake　before　Shargar。　　The　all　but　soulless　light　of　the　dreary

season　awoke　him；　and　he　rose　and　looked　out。　　Aurora；　as　aged　now

as　her　loved　Tithonus；　peered；　gray…haired　and　desolate；　over　the

edge　of　the　tossing　sea；　with　hardly　enough　of　light　in　her　dim　eyes

to　show　the　broken　crests　of　the　waves　that　rushed　shorewards　before

the　wind　of　her　rising。　　Such　an　east　wind　was　the　right　breath　to

issue　from　such　a　pale　mouth　of　hopeless　revelation　as　that　which

opened　with　dead　lips　across　the　troubled　sea　on　the　far　horizon。

While　he　gazed；　the　east　darkened；　a　cloud　of　hail　rushed　against

the　window；　and　Robert　retreated　to　his　bed。　　But　ere　he　had　fallen

asleep；　Ericson　was　beside　him；　and　before　he　was　dressed；　Ericson

appeared　again；　with　his　stick　in　his　hand。　　They　left　Shargar　still

asleep；　and　descended　the　stairs；　thinking　to　leave　the　house

undisturbed。　　But　Mrs。　Fyvie　was　watching　for　them；　and　insisted　on

their　taking　the　breakfast　she　had　prepared。　　They　then　set　out　on

their　journey　of　forty　miles；　with　half　a　loaf　in　their　pockets；　and

money　enough　to　get　bread　and　cheese；　and　a　bottle　of　the　poorest

ale；　at　the　far…parted　roadside　inns。



When　Shargar　awoke；　he　wept　in　desolation；　then　crept　into　Robert's

bed；　and　fell　fast　asleep　again。









CHAPTER　XVI。



A　STRANGE　NIGHT。



The　youths　had　not　left　the　city　a　mile　behind；　when　a　thick

snowstorm　came　on。　　It　did　not　last　long；　however；　and　they　fought

their　way　through　it　into　a　glimpse　of　sun。　　To　Robert；　healthy；

powerful；　and　except　at　rare　times；　hopeful；　it　added　to　the

pleasure　of　the　journey　to　contend　with　the　storm；　and　there　was　a

certain　steely　indifference　about　Ericson　that　carried　him　through。

They　trudged　on　steadily　for　three　hours　along　a　good　turnpike

road；　with　great　black　masses　of　cloud　sweeping　across　the　sky；

which　now　sent　them　a　glimmer　of　sunlight；　and　now　a　sharp　shower　of

hail。　　The　country　was　very　drearya　succession　of　undulations

rising　into　bleak　moorlands；　and　hills　whose　heather　would　in　autumn

flush　the　land　with　glorious　purple；　but　which　now　looked　black　and

cheerless；　as　if　no　sunshine　could　ever　warm　them。　　Now　and　then　the

moorland　would　sweep　down　to　the　edge　of　the　road；　diversified　with

dark　holes　from　which　peats　were　dug；　and　an　occasional　quarry　of

gray　granite。　　At　one　moment　endless　pools　would　be　shining　in　the

sunlight；　and　the　next　the　hail　would　be　dancing　a　mad　fantastic

dance　all　about　them：　they　pulled　their　caps　over　their　brows；　bent

their　heads；　and　struggled　on。



At　length　they　reached　their　first　stage；　and　after　a　meal　of　bread

and　cheese　and　an　offered　glass　of　whisky；　started　again　on　their

journey。　　They　did　not　talk　much；　for　their　force　was　spent　on　their

progress。



After　some　consultation　whether　to　keep　the　road　or　take　a　certain

short　cut　across　the　moors；　which　would　lead　them　into　it　again　with

a　saving　of　several　miles；　the　sun　shining　out　with　a　little

stronger　promise　than　he　had　yet　given；　they　resolved　upon　the

latter。　　But　in　the　middle　of　the　moorland　the　wind　and　the　hail

came　on　with　increased　violence；　and　they　were　glad　to　tack　from　one

to　another　of　the　huge　stones　that　lay　about；　and　take　a　short

breathing　time　under　the　lee　of　each；　so　that　when　they　recovered

the　road；　they　had　lost　as　many　miles　in　time　and　strength　as　they

had　saved　in　distance。　　They　did　not　give　in；　however；　but　after

another　rest　and　a　little　more　refreshment；　started　again。



The　evening　was　now　growing　dusk　around　them；　and　the　fatigue　of　the

day　was　telling　so　severely　on　Ericson；　that　when　in　the　twilight

they　heard　the　blast　of　a　horn　behind　them；　and　turning　saw　the　two

flaming　eyes　of　a　well…known　four…horse　coach　come　fluctuating

towards　them；　Robert　insi