robert falconer-第103章

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not　his　own　faith　in　Jesus）；　the　truth　of　Jesus；　the　life　of　Jesus。

However　his　intellect　might　be　tossed　on　the　waves　of　speculation

and　criticism；　he　found　that　the　word　the　Lord　had　spoken　remained

steadfast；　for　in　doing　righteously；　in　loving　mercy；　in　walking

humbly；　the　conviction　increased　that　Jesus　knew　the　very　secret　of

human　life。　　Now　and　then　some　great　vision　gleamed　across　his　soul

of　the　working　of　all　things　towards　a　far…off　goal　of　simple

obedience　to　a　law　of　life；　which　God　knew；　and　which　his　son　had

justified　through　sorrow　and　pain。　　Again　and　again　the　words　of　the

Master　gave　him　a　peep　into　a　region　where　all　was　explicable；　where

all　that　was　crooked　might　be　made　straight；　where　every　mountain　of

wrong　might　be　made　low；　and　every　valley　of　suffering　exalted。

Ever　and　again　some　one　of　the　dark　perplexities　of　humanity　began

to　glimmer　with　light　in　its　inmost　depth。　　Nor　was　he　without　those

moments　of　communion　when　the　creature　is　lifted　into　the　secret

place　of　the　Creator。



Looking　back　to　the　time　when　it　seemed　that　he　cried　and　was　not

heard；　he　saw　that　God　had　been　hearing；　had　been　answering；　all　the

time；　had　been　making　him　capable　of　receiving　the　gift　for　which　he

prayed。　　He　saw　that　intellectual　difficulty　encompassing　the

highest　operations　of　harmonizing　truth；　can　no　more　affect　their

reality　than　the　dulness　of　chaos　disprove　the　motions　of　the　wind

of　God　over　the　face　of　its　waters。　　He　saw　that　any　true　revelation

must　come　out　of　the　unknown　in　God　through　the　unknown　in　man。　　He

saw　that　its　truths　must　rise　in　the　man　as　powers　of　life；　and　that

only　as　that　life　grows　and　unfolds　can　the　ever…lagging　intellect

gain　glimpses　of　partial　outlines　fading　away　into　the

infinitethat；　indeed；　only　in　material　things　and　the　laws　that

belong　to　them；　are　outlines　possibleeven　there；　only　in　the

picture　of　them　which　the　mind　that　analyzes　them　makes　for　itself；

not　in　the　things　themselves。



At　the　close　of　these　four　years；　with　his　spirit　calm　and　hopeful；

truth　his　passion；　and　music；　which　again　he　had　resumed　and

diligently　cultivated；　his　pleasure；　Falconer　returned　to　Aberdeen。

He　was　received　by　Dr。　Anderson　as　if　he　had　in　truth　been　his　own

son。　　In　the　room　stood　a　tall　figure；　with　its　back　towards　them；

pocketing　its　handkerchief。　　The　next　moment　the　figure　turned；

andcould　it　be？yes；　it　was　Shargar。　　Doubt　lingered　only　until

he　opened　his　mouth；　and　said　'Eh；　Robert！'　with　which　exclamation

he　threw　himself　upon　him；　and　after　a　very　undignified　fashion

began　crying　heartily。　　Tall　as　he　was；　Robert's　great　black　head

towered　above　him；　and　his　shoulders　were　like　a　rock　against　which

Shargar's　slight　figure　leaned。　　He　looked　down　like　a　compassionate

mastiff　upon　a　distressed　Italian　grayhound。　　His　eyes　shimmered

with　feeling；　but　Robert's　tears；　if　he　ever　shed　any；　were　kept　for

very　solemn　occasions。　　He　was　more　likely　to　weep　for　awful　joy

than　for　any　sufferings　either　in　himself　or　others。　'Shargar！'

pronounced　in　a　tone　full　of　a　thousand　memories；　was　all　the

greeting　he　returned；　but　his　great　manly　hand　pressed　Shargar's

delicate　long…fingered　one　with　a　grasp　which　must　have　satisfied

his　friend　that　everything　was　as　it　had　been　between　them；　and　that

their　friendship　from　henceforth　would　take　a　new　start。　　For　with

all　that　Robert　had　seen；　thought；　and　learned；　now　that　the

bitterness　of　loss　had　gone　by；　the　old　times　and　the　old　friends

were　dearer。　　If　there　was　any　truth　in　the　religion　of　God's　will；

in　which　he　was　a　disciple；　every　moment　of　life's　history　which　had

brought　soul　in　contact　with　soul；　must　be　sacred　as　a　voice　from

behind　the　veil。　　Therefore　he　could　not　now　rest　until　he　had　gone

to　see　his　grandmother。



'Will　you　come　to　Rothieden　with　me；　Shargar？　　I　beg　your　pardonI

oughtn't　to　keep　up　an　old　nickname；'　said　Robert；　as　they　sat　that

evening　with　the　doctor；　over　a　tumbler　of　toddy。



'If　you　call　me　anything　else；　I'll　cut　my　throat；　Robert；　as　I　told

you　before。　　If　any　one　else　does；'　he　added；　laughing；　'I'll　cut

his　throat。'



'Can　he　go　with　me；　doctor？'　asked　Robert；　turning　to　their　host。



'Certainly。　　He　has　not　been　to　Rothieden　since　he　took　his　degree。

He's　an　A。M。　now；　and　has　distinguished　himself　besides。　　You'll

see　him　in　his　uniform　soon；　I　hope。　　Let's　drink　his　health；

Robert。　　Fill　your　glass。'



The　doctor　filled　his　glass　slowly　and　solemnly。　　He　seldom　drank

even　wine；　but　this　was　a　rare　occasion。　　He　then　rose；　and　with

equal　slowness；　and　a　tremor　in　his　voice　which　rendered　it

impossible　to　imagine　the　presence　of　anything　but　seriousness；

said；



'Robert；　my　son；　let's　drink　the　health　of　George　Moray；　Gentleman。

Stand　up。'



Robert　rose；　and　in　his　confusion　Shargar　rose　too；　and　sat　down

again；　blushing　till　his　red　hair　looked　yellow　beside　his　cheeks。

The　men　repeated　the　words；　'George　Moray；　Gentleman；'　emptied

their　glasses；　and　resumed　their　seats。　　Shargar　rose　trembling；　and

tried　in　vain　to　speak。　　The　reason　in　part　was；　that　he　sought　to

utter　himself　in　English。



'Hoots！　　Damn　English！'　he　broke　out　at　last。　'Gin　I　be　a　gentleman；

Dr。　Anderson　and　Robert　Falconer；　it's　you　twa　'at's　made　me　ane；

an'　God　bless　ye；　an'　I'm　yer　hoomble　servant　to　a'　etairnity。'



So　saying；　Shargar　resumed　his　seat；　filled　his　glass　with　trembling

hand；　emptied　it　to　hide　his　feelings；　but　without　success；　rose

once　more；　and　retreated　to　the　hall　for　a　space。



The　next　morning　Robert　and　Shargar　got　on　the　coach　and　went　to

Rothieden。　　Robert　turned　his　head　aside　as　they　came　near　the

bridge　and　the　old　house　of　Bogbonnie。　　But；　ashamed　of　his

weakness；　he　turned　again　and　looked　at　the　house。　　There　it　stood；

all　the　same；a　thing　for　the　night　winds　to　howl　in；　and　follow

each　other　in　mad　gambols　through　its　long　passages　and　rooms；　so

empty　from　the　first　that　not　even　a　ghost　had　any　reason　for　going

therea　place　almost　without　a　historydreary　emblem　of　so　many

empty　souls　that　have　hidden　their　talent　in　a　napkin；　and　have

nothing　to　return　for　it　when　the　Master　calls　them。　　Having　looked

this　one　in　the　face；　he　felt　stronger　to　meet　those　other　places

before　which　his　heart　quailed　yet　more。　　He　knew　that　Miss　St。　John

had　left　soon　after　Ericson's　death：　whether　he　was　sorry　or　glad

that　he　should　not　see　her　he　could　not　tell。　　He　thought　Rothieden

would　look　like　Pompeii；　a　city　buried　and　disinterred；　but　when　the

coach　drove　into　the　long　straggling　street；　he　found　the　old　love

revive；　and　although　the　blood　rushed　back　to　his　heart　when　Captain

Forsyth's　house　came　in　view；　he　did　not　turn　away；　but　made　his

eyes；　and　through　them　his　heart；　familiar　with　its　desolation。　　He

got　down　at　the　corner；　and　leaving　Shargar　to　go　on　to　The　Boar's

Head　and　look　after　the　luggage；　walked　into　his　grandmother's　house

and　straight　into　her　little　parlour。　　She　rose　with　her　old

stateliness　when　she　saw　a　stranger　enter　the　room；　and　stood

waiting　his　address。



'Weel；　grannie；'　said　Robert；　and　took　her　in　his　arms。



'The　Lord's　name　be　praised！'　faltered　she。　'He's　ower　guid　to　the

likes　o'　me。'



And　she　lifted　up　her　voice　and　wept。



She　had　been　informed　of　his　coming；　but　she　had　not　expected　him

till　the　evening；　he　was　much　altered；　and　old　age　is　slow。



He　had　hardly　placed　her　in　her　chair；　when　Betty　came　in。　　If　she

had　shown　him　respect　before；　it　was　reverence　now。



'Eh；　sir！'　she　said；　'I　didna　ken　it　was　you；　or　I　wadna　hae　come

into　the　room　ohn　chappit　at　the　door。　　I'll　awa'　back　to　my

kitchie。'



So　saying；　she　turned　to　leave　the　room。



'Hoots！　　Betty；'　cried　Robert；　'dinna　be　a　gowk。　　Gie　's　a　grip　o

yer　han'。'



Betty　stood　staring　and　irresolute；　overcome　at　sight　of　the　manly

bulk　before　her。



'Gin　ye　dinna　behave　yersel'；　Betty；　I'll