robert falconer-第79节

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sobs；　and　her　weak　limbs　urged　to　ungraceful　flight。　　As　if　walking

in　the　vision　of　an　eternal　truth；　he　went　straight　to　Captain

Forsyth's　door。



'I　want　to　speak　to　Miss　St。　John；　Isie；'　said　Robert。



'She'll　be　doon　in　a　minit。'



'But　isna　yer　mistress　i'　the　drawin'…room？I　dinna　want　to　see

her。'



'Ow；　weel；'　said　the　girl；　who　was　almost　fresh　from　the　country；

'jist　rin　up　the　stair；　an'　chap　at　the　door　o'　her　room。'



With　the　simplicity　of　a　child；　for　what　a　girl　told　him　to　do　must

be　right；　Robert　sped　up　the　stair；　his　heart　going　like　a

fire…engine。　　He　had　never　approached　Mary's　room　from　this　side；

but　instinct　or　something　else　led　him　straight　to　her　door。　　He

knocked。



'Come　in；'　she　said；　never　doubting　it　was　the　maid；　and　Robert

entered。



She　was　brushing　her　hair　by　the　light　of　a　chamber　candle。　　Robert

was　seized　with　awe；　and　his　limbs　trembled。　　He　could　have　kneeled

before　hernot　to　beg　forgiveness；　he　did　not　think　of　thatbut　to

worship；　as　a　man　may　worship　a　woman。　　It　is　only　a　strong；　pure

heart　like　Robert's　that　ever　can　feel　all　the　inroad　of　the　divine

mystery　of　womanhood。　　But　he　did　not　kneel。　　He　had　a　duty　to

perform。　　A　flush　rose　in　Miss　St。　John's　face；　and　sank　away；

leaving　it　pale。　　It　was　not　that　she　thought　once　of　her　own

condition；　with　her　hair　loose　on　her　shoulders；　but；　able　only　to

conjecture　what　had　brought　him　thither；　she　could　not　but　regard

Robert's　presence　with　dismay。　　She　stood　with　her　ivory　brush　in

her　right　hand　uplifted；　and　a　great　handful　of　hair　in　her　left。

She　was　soon　relieved；　however；　although　what　with　his　contemplated

intercession；　the　dim　vision　of　Mary's　lovely　face　between　the

masses　of　her　hair；　and　the　lavender　odour　that　filled　the

roomperhaps　also　a　faint　suspicion　of　impropriety　sufficient　to

give　force　to　the　restRobert　was　thrown　back　into　the　abyss　of　his

mother…tongue；　and　out　of　this　abyss　talked　like　a　Behemoth。



'Robert！'　said　Mary；　in　a　tone　which；　had　he　not　been　so　eager　after

his　end；　he　might　have　interpreted　as　one　of　displeasure。



'Ye　maun　hearken　till　me；　mem。Whan　I　was　oot　at　Bodyfauld；'　he

began　methodically；　and　Mary；　bewildered；　gave　one　hasty　brush　to

her　handful　of　hair　and　again　stood　still：　she　could　imagine　no

connection　between　this　meeting　and　their　late　parting'Whan　I　was

was　oot　at　Bodyfauld　ae　simmer；　I　grew　acquant　wi'　a　bonnie　lassie

there；　the　dochter　o'　Jeames　Hewson；　an　honest　cottar；　wi'

Shakspeare　an'　the　Arabian　Nichts　upo'　a　skelf　i'　the　hoose　wi'　'im。

I　gaed　in　ae　day　whan　I　wasna　weel；　an'　she　jist　ministert　to　me；

as　nane　ever　did　but　yersel'；　mem。　　An'　she　was　that　kin'　an'

mither…like　to　the　wee　bit　greitin'　bairnie　'at　she　had　to　tak　care

o'　'cause　her　mither　was　oot　wi'　the　lave　shearin'！　　Her　face　was

jist　like　a　simmer　day；　an'　weel　I　likit　the　luik　o'　the　lassie！I

met　her　again　the　nicht。　　Ye　never　saw　sic　a　change。　　A　white　face；

an'　nothing　but　greitin'　to　come　oot　o'　her。　　She　ran　frae　me　as　gin

I　had　been　the　de'il　himsel'。　　An'　the　thocht　o'　you；　sae　bonnie　an'

straucht　an'　gran'；　cam　ower　me。'



Yielding　to　a　masterful　impulse；　Robert　did　kneel　now。　　As　if

sinner；　and　not　mediator；　he　pressed　the　hem　of　her　garment　to　his

lips。



'Dinna　be　angry　at　me；　Miss　St。　John；'　he　pleaded；　'but　be　mercifu'

to　the　lassie。　　Wha's　to　help　her　that　can　no　more　luik　a　man　i'　the

face；　but　the　clear…e'ed　lass　that　wad　luik　the　sun　himsel'　oot　o'

the　lift　gin　he　daured　to　say　a　word　against　her。　　It's　ae　woman

that　can　uphaud　anither。　　Ye　ken　what　I　mean；　an'　I　needna　say

mair。'



He　rose　and　turned　to　leave　the　room。



Bewildered　and　doubtful；　Miss　St。　John　did　not　know　what　to　answer；

but　felt　that　she　must　make　some　reply。



'You　haven't　told　me　where　to　find　the　girl；　or　what　you　want　me　to

do　with　her。'



'I'll　fin'　oot　whaur　she　bides；'　he　said；　moving　again　towards　the

door。



'But　what　am　I　to　do　with　her；　Robert？'



'That's　your　pairt。　　Ye　maun　fin'　oot　what　to　do　wi'　her。　　I　canna

tell　ye　that。　　But　gin　I　was　you；　I　wad　gie　her　a　kiss　to　begin　wi'。

She's　nane　o'　yer　brazen…faced　hizzies；　yon。　　A　kiss　wad　be　the

savin'　o'　her。'



'But　you　may　be。　　But　I　have　nothing　to　go　upon。　　She　would　resent

my　interference。'



'She's　past　resentin'　onything。　　She　was　gaein'　aboot　the　toon　like

ane　o'　the　deid　'at　hae　naething　to　say　to　onybody；　an'　naebody

onything　to　say　to　them。　　Gin　she　gangs　on　like　that　she'll　no　be

alive　lang。'



That　night　Jessie　Hewson　disappeared。　　A　mile　or　two　up　the　river

under　a　high　bank；　from　which　the　main　current　had　receded；　lay　an

awful；　swampy　placefull　of　reeds；　except　in　the　middle　where　was

one　round　space　full　of　dark　water　and　mud。　　Near　this　Jessie　Hewson

was　seen　about　an　hour　after　Robert　had　thus　pled　for　her　with　his

angel。



The　event　made　a　deep　impression　upon　Robert。　　The　last　time　that　he

saw　them；　James　and　his　wife　were　as　cheerful　as　usual；　and　gave　him

a　hearty　welcome。　　Jessie　was　in　service；　and　doing　well；　they　said。

The　next　time　he　opened　the　door　of　the　cottage　it　was　like　the

entrance　to　a　haunted　tomb。　　Not　a　smile　was　in　the　place。　　James's

cheeriness　was　all　gone。　　He　was　sitting　at　the　table　with　his　head

leaning　on　his　hand。　　His　Bible　was　open　before　him；　but　he　was　not

reading　a　word。　　His　wife　was　moving　listlessly　about。　　They　looked

just　as　Jessie　had　looked　that　nightas　if　they　had　died　long　ago；

but　somehow　or　other　could　not　get　into　their　graves　and　be　at　rest。

The　child　Jessie　had　nursed　with　such　care　was　toddling　about；

looking　rueful　with　loss。　　George　had　gone　to　America；　and　the　whole

of　that　family's　joy　had　vanished　from　the　earth。



The　subject　was　not　resumed　between　Miss　St。　John　and　Robert。　　The

next　time　he　saw　her；　he　knew　by　her　pale　troubled　face　that　she　had

heard　the　report　that　filled　the　town；　and　she　knew　by　his　silence

that　it　had　indeed　reference　to　the　same　girl　of　whom　he　had　spoken

to　her。　　The　music　would　not　go　right　that　evening。　　Mary　was

distraite；　and　Robert　was　troubled。　　It　was　a　week　or　two　before

there　came　a　change。　　When　the　turn　did　come；　over　his　being　love

rushed　up　like　a　spring…tide　from　the　ocean　of　the　Infinite。



He　was　accompanying　her　piano　with　his　violin。　　He　made　blunders；

and　her　playing　was　out　of　heart。　　They　stopped　as　by　consent；　and　a

moment's　silence　followed。　　All　at　once　she　broke　out　with　something

Robert　had　never　heard　before。　　He　soon　found　that　it　was　a　fantasy

upon　Ericson's　poem。　　Ever　through　a　troubled　harmony　ran　a　silver

thread　of　melody　from　far　away。　　It　was　the　caverns　drinking　from

the　tempest　overhead；　the　grasses　growing　under　the　snow；　the　stars

making　music　with　the　dark；　the　streams　filling　the　night　with　the

sounds　the　day　had　quenched；　the　whispering　call　of　the　dreams　left

behind　in　'the　fields　of　sleep；'in　a　word；　the　central　life

pulsing　in　aeonian　peace　through　the　outer　ephemeral　storms。　　At

length　her　voice　took　up　the　theme。　　The　silvery　thread　became　song；

and　through　all　the　opposing；　supporting　harmonies　she　led　it　to　the

solution　of　a　close　in　which　the　only　sorrow　was　in　the　music

itself；　for　its　very　life　is　an　'endless　ending。'　　She　found　Robert

kneeling　by　her　side。　　As　she　turned　from　the　instrument　his　head

drooped　over　her　knee。　　She　laid　her　hand　on　his　clustering　curls；

bethought　herself；　and　left　the　room。　　Robert　wandered　out　as　in　a

dream。　　At　midnight　he　found　himself　on　a　solitary　hill…top；　seated

in　the　heather；　with　a　few　tiny　fir…trees　about　him；　and　the　sounds

of　a　wind；　ethereal　as　the　stars　overhead；　flowing　through　their

branches：　he　heard　the　sound　of　it；　but　it　did　not　touch　him。



Where　was　God？



In　him　and　his　question。









CHAPTER　XX。



ERICSON　LOSES　TO　WIN。



If　Mary　St。　John　had　been　an　ordinary　woman；　and　if；

notwithstanding；　Robert　had　been　in　love　with　her；　he　would　have

done　very　little　in　preparation　for　the　coming　session。　　But

although　she　now　possessed　him；　although　at　times　he　only　knew

himself　as　loving　her；　there　was　such　a　mountain　air　of　calm　about

her；　such　an　outgoing　divinity　of　peace；　such　a　largely　moulded

harmony　of　being；　that　he　could　not　love　her　otherwise　than　grandly。

For　her　sake；　weary　with　loving　her；　he　would　yet　turn　to　his　work；

and；　to　be　worthy　of　her；　or　rather；　for　he　never　dreamed　of　being

worthy　of　her；　to　be　worthy　of　leave　to　love　her；　would　forget　her

enough　to　lay　hold　of　some　abstract　truth　of　lines；　angles；　or

symbols。　　A　strange　way　of　being　in　love；　reader？　　You　think　so？　　I

would　there　were　more　love　like　it：　the　world　would　be　centuries

nearer　its　redemption　if　a　millionth　part　of　the　love　in　it　were　of

the　sort。　　All　I　insist；　however；　on　my　reader's　believing　is；　that

it　showed；　in　a　youth　like　Robert；　not　less　but　more　love　that　he

could　go　against　love's　sweet