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robert falconer-第76节

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had she not had her history already; and been ten years his senior;

she might have found no little attraction in the noble bearing and

handsome face of young Falconer。  The rest of his features had now

grown into complete harmony of relation with his whilom premature

and therefore portentous nose; his eyes glowed and gleamed with

humanity; and his whole countenance bore self…evident witness of

being a true face and no mask; a revelation of his individual being;

and not a mere inheritance from a fine breed of fathers and mothers。

As it was; she could admire and love him without danger of falling

in love with him; but not without fear lest he should not assume the

correlative position。  She saw no way of prevention; however;

without running a risk of worse。  She shrunk altogether from putting

on anything; she abhorred tact; and pretence was impracticable with

Mary St。 John。 She resolved that if she saw any definite ground for

uneasiness she would return to England; and leave any impression she

might have made to wear out in her absence and silence。  Things did

not seem to render this necessary yet。



Meantime the violin of the dead shoemaker blended its wails with the

rich harmonies of Mary St。 John's piano; and the soul of Robert went

forth upon the level of the sound and hovered about the beauty of

his friend。  Oftener than she approved was she drawn by Robert's

eagerness into these consorts。



But the heart of the king is in the hands of the Lord。



While Robert thus once more for a season stood behind the cherub

with the flaming sword; Ericson was teaching two stiff…necked youths

in a dreary house in the midst of one of the moors of Caithness。

One day he had a slight attack of blood…spitting; and welcomed it

as a sign from what heaven there might be beyond the grave。



He had not received the consolation of Miss St。 John without;

although unconsciously; leaving something in her mind in return。  No

human being has ever been allowed to occupy the position of a pure

benefactor。  The receiver has his turn; and becomes the giver。  From

her talk with Ericson; and even more from the influence of his sad

holy doubt; a fresh touch of the actinism of the solar truth fell

upon the living seed in her heart; and her life burst forth afresh;

began to bud in new questions that needed answers; and new prayers

that sought them。



But she never dreamed that Robert was capable of sympathy with such

thoughts and feelings: he was but a boy。  Nor in power of dealing

with truth was he at all on the same level with her; for however

poor he might have considered her theories; she had led a life

hitherto; had passed through sorrow without bitterness; had done her

duty without pride; had hoped without conceit of favour; had; as she

believed; heard the voice of God saying; 'This is the way。'  Hence

she was not afraid when the mists of prejudice began to rise from

around her path; and reveal a country very different from what she

had fancied it。  She was soon able to perceive that it was far more

lovely and full of righteousness and peace than she had supposed。

But this anticipates; only I shall have less occasion to speak of

Miss St。 John by the time she has come into this purer air of the

uphill road。



Robert was happier than he ever could have expected to be in his

grandmother's house。  She treated him like an honoured guest; let

him do as he would; and go where he pleased。  Betty kept the

gable…room in the best of order for him; and; pattern of housemaids;

dusted his table without disturbing his papers。  For he began to

have papers; nor were they occupied only with the mathematics to

which he was now giving his chief attention; preparing; with the

occasional help of Mr。 Innes; for his second session。



He had fits of wandering; though; visited all the old places; spent

a week or two more than once at Bodyfauld; rode Mr。 Lammie's

half…broke filly; revelled in the glories of the summer once more;

went out to tea occasionally; or supped with the school…master; and;

except going to church on Sunday; which was a weariness to every

inch of flesh upon his bones; enjoyed everything。









CHAPTER XVIII。



A GRAVE OPENED。



One thing that troubled Robert on this his return home; was the

discovery that the surroundings of his childhood had deserted him。

There they were; as of yore; but they seemed to have nothing to say

to himno remembrance of him。  It was not that everything looked

small and narrow; it was not that the streets he saw from his new

quarters; the gable…room; were awfully still after the roar of

Aberdeen; and a passing cart seemed to shudder at the loneliness of

the noise itself made; it was that everything seemed to be conscious

only of the past and care nothing for him now。  The very chairs with

their inlaid backs had an embalmed look; and stood as in a dream。

He could pass even the walled…up door without emotion; for all the

feeling that had been gathered about the knob that admitted him to

Mary St。 John; had transferred itself to the brass bell…pull at her

street…door。



But one day; after standing for a while at the window; looking down

on the street where he had first seen the beloved form of Ericson; a

certain old mood began to revive in him。  He had been working at

quadratic equations all the morning; he had been foiled in the

attempt to find the true algebraic statement of a very tough

question involving various ratios; and; vexed with himself; he had

risen to look out; as the only available zeitvertreib。  It was one

of those rainy days of spring which it needs a hopeful mood to

distinguish from autumnal onesdull; depressing; persistent: there

might be sunshine in Mercury or Venusbut on the earth could be

none; from his right hand round by India and America to his left;

and certainly there was none betweena mood to which all sensitive

people are liable who have not yet learned by faith in the

everlasting to rule their own spirits。  Naturally enough his

thoughts turned to the place where he had suffered mosthis old

room in the garret。  Hitherto he had shrunk from visiting it; but

now he turned away from the window; went up the steep stairs; with

their one sharp corkscrew curve; pushed the door; which clung

unwillingly to the floor; and entered。  It was a nothing of a

placewith a window that looked only to heaven。  There was the

empty bedstead against the wall; where he had so often kneeled;

sending forth vain prayers to a deaf heaven!  Had they indeed been

vain prayers; and to a deaf heaven? or had they been prayers which a

hearing God must answer not according to the haste of the praying

child; but according to the calm course of his own infinite law of

love?



Here; somehow or other; the things about him did not seem so much

absorbed in the past; notwithstanding those untroubled rows of

papers bundled in red tape。  True; they looked almost awful in their

lack of interest and their non…humanity; for there is scarcely

anything that absolutely loses interest save the records of money;

but his mother's workbox lay behind them。  And; strange to say; the

side of that bed drew him to kneel down: he did not yet believe that

prayer was in vain。  If God had not answered him before; that gave

no certainty that he would not answer him now。  It was; he found;

still as rational as it had ever been to hope that God would answer

the man that cried to him。  This came; I think; from the fact that

God had been answering him all the time; although he had not

recognized his gifts as answers。  Had he not given him Ericson; his

intercourse with whom and his familiarity with whose doubts had done

anything but quench his thirst after the higher life?  For

Ericson's; like his own; were true and good and reverent doubts; not

merely consistent with but in a great measure springing from

devoutness and aspiration。  Surely such doubts are far more precious

in the sight of God than many beliefs?



He kneeled and sent forth one cry after the Father; arose; and

turned towards the shelves; removed some of the bundles of letters;

and drew out his mother's little box。



There lay the miniature; still and open…eyed as he had left it。

There too lay the bit of paper; brown and dry; with the hymn and

the few words of sorrow written thereon。  He looked at the portrait;

but did not open the folded paper。  Then first he thought whether

there might not be something more in the box: what he had taken for

the bottom seemed to be a tray。  He lifted it by two little ears of

ribbon; and there; underneath; lay a letter addressed to his father;

in the same old…fashioned handwriting as the hymn。  It was sealed

with brown wax; full of spangles; impressed with a bush of

somethinghe could not tell whether rushes or reeds or flags。  Of

course he dared not open it。  His holy mother's words to his erring

father must be sacred even from the eyes of their son

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