robert falconer-第118章

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drill　yet；　and　a　good　many　of　the　officers　too　not　out　of　the

awkward　squad。　　I　am　sure　I；　for　a　private；　am　not。　　In　the　drill　a

man　has　to　conquer　himself；　and　move　with　the　rest　by　individual

attention　to　his　own　duty：　to　what　mighty　battlefields　the　recruit

may　yet　be　led；　he　does　not　know。　　Meantime　he　has　nearly　enough　to

do　with　his　goose…step；　while　there　is　plenty　of　single　combat；

skirmish；　and　light　cavalry　work　generally；　to　get　him　ready　for

whatever　is　to　follow。　　I　beg　your　pardon：　I　am　preaching。'



'Eloquently；'　I　answered。



Of　some　of　the　places　into　which　Falconer　led　me　that　night　I　will

attempt　no　descriptionplaces　blazing　with　lights　and　mirrors；

crowded　with　dancers；　billowing　with　music；　close　and　hot；　and　full

of　the　saddest　of　all　sights；　the　uninteresting　faces　of　commonplace

women。



'There　is　a　passion；'　I　said；　as　we　came　out　of　one　of　these

dreadful　places；　'that　lingers　about　the　heart　like　the　odour　of

violets；　like　a　glimmering　twilight　on　the　borders　of　moonrise；　and

there　is　a　passion　that　wraps　itself　in　the　vapours　of　patchouli　and

coffins；　and　streams　from　the　eyes　like　gaslight　from　a　tavern。　　And

yet　the　line　is　ill　to　draw　between　them。　　It　is　very　dreadful。

These　are　women。'



'They　are　in　God's　hands；'　answered　Falconer。　'He　hasn't　done　with

them　yet。　　Shall　it　take　less　time　to　make　a　woman　than　to　make　a

world？　　Is　not　the　woman　the　greater？　　She　may　have　her　ages　of

chaos；　her　centuries　of　crawling　slime；　yet　rise　a　woman　at　last。'



'How　much　alike　all　those　women　were！'



'A　family　likeness；　alas！　which　always　strikes　you　first。'



'Some　of　them　looked　quite　modest。'



'There　are　great　differences。　　I　do　not　know　anything　more　touching

than　to　see　how　a　woman　will　sometimes　wrap　around　her　the　last

remnants　of　a　soiled　and　ragged　modesty。　　It　has　moved　me　almost　to

tears　to　see　such　a　one　hanging　her　head　in　shame　during　the　singing

of　a　detestable　song。　　That　poor　thing's　shame　was　precious　in　the

eyes　of　the　Master；　surely。'



'Could　nothing　be　done　for　her？'



'I　contrived　to　let　her　know　where　she　would　find　a　friend　if　she

wanted　to　be　good：　that　is　all　you　can　do　in　such　cases。　　If　the

horrors　of　their　life　do　not　drive　them　out　at　such　an　open　door；

you　can　do　nothing　else；　I　fearfor　the　time。'



'Where　are　you　going　now；　may　I　ask？'



'Into　the　cityon　business；'　he　added　with　a　smile。



'There　will　be　nobody　there　so　late。'



'Nobody！　　One　would　think　you　were　the　beadle　of　a　city　church；　Mr。

Gordon。'



We　came　into　a　very　narrow；　dirty　street。　　I　do　not　know　where　it

is。　　A　slatternly　woman　advanced　from　an　open　door；　and　said；



'Mr。　Falconer。'



He　looked　at　her　for　a　moment。



'Why；　Sarah；　have　you　come　to　this　already？'　he　said。



'Never　mind　me；　sir。　　It's　no　more　than　you　told　me　to　expect。　　You

knowed　him　better　than　I　did。　　Leastways　I'm　an　honest　woman。'



'Stick　to　that；　Sarah；　and　be　good…tempered。'



'I'll　have　a　try　anyhow；　sir。　　But　there's　a　poor　cretur　a　dyin'

up…stairs；　and　I'm　afeard　it'll　go　hard　with　her；　for　she　throwed　a

Bible　out　o'　window　this　very　morning；　sir。'



'Would　she　like　to　see　me？　　I'm　afraid　not。'



'She's　got　Lilywhite；　what's　a　sort　of　a　reader；　readin'　that　same

Bible　to　her　now。'



'There　can　be　no　great　harm　in　just　looking　in；'　he　said；　turning　to

me。



'I　shall　be　happy　to　follow　youanywhere；'　I　returned。



'She's　awful　ill；　sir；　cholerer　or　summat；'　said　Sarah；　as　she　led

the　way　up　the　creaking　stair。



We　half　entered　the　room　softly。　　Two　or　three　women　sat　by　the

chimney；　and　another　by　a　low　bed；　covered　with　a　torn　patchwork

counterpane；　spelling　out　a　chapter　in　the　Bible。　　We　paused　for　a

moment　to　hear　what　she　was　reading。　　Had　the　book　been　opened　by

chance；　or　by　design？　　It　was　the　story　of　David　and　Bathsheba。

Moans　came　from　the　bed；　but　the　candle　in　a　bottle；　by　which　the

woman　was　reading；　was　so　placed　that　we　could　not　see　the　sufferer。



We　stood　still　and　did　not　interrupt　the　reading。



'Ha！　ha！　ha！'　laughed　a　coarse　voice　from　the　side　of　the　chimney：

'the　saint；　you　see；　was　no　better　than　some　of　the　rest　of　us！'



'I　think　he　was　a　good　deal　worse　just　then；'　said　Falconer；

stepping　forward。



'Gracious！　there's　Mr。　Falconer；'　said　another　woman；　rising；　and

speaking　in　a　flattering　tone。



'Then；'　remarked　the　former　speaker；　'there's　a　chance　for　old　Moll

and　me　yet。　　King　David　was　a　saint；　wasn't　he？　　Ha！　ha！'



'Yes；　and　you　might　be　one　too；　if　you　were　as　sorry　for　your　faults

as　he　was　for　his。'



'Sorry；　indeed！　　I'll　be　damned　if　I　be　sorry。　　What　have　I　to　be

sorry　for？　　Where's　the　harm　in　turning　an　honest　penny？　　I　ha'　took

no　man's　wife；　nor　murdered　himself　neither。　　There's　yer　saints！

He　was　a　rum　'un。　　Ha！　ha！'



Falconer　approached　her；　bent　down　and　whispered　something　no　one

could　hear　but　herself。　　She　gave　a　smothered　cry；　and　was　silent。



'Give　me　the　book；'　he　said；　turning　towards　the　bed。　'I'll　read　you

something　better　than　that。　　I'll　read　about　some　one　that　never　did

anything　wrong。'



'I　don't　believe　there　never　was　no　sich　a　man；'　said　the　previous

reader；　as　she　handed　him　the　book；　grudgingly。



'Not　Jesus　Christ　himself？'　said　Falconer。



'Oh！　　I　didn't　know　as　you　meant　him。'



'Of　course　I　meant　him。　　There　never　was　another。'



'I　have　heard　tellp'raps　it　was　yourself；　siras　how　he　didn't

come　down　upon　us　over　hard　after　all；　bless　him！'



Falconer　sat　down　on　the　side　of　the　bed；　and　read　the　story　of

Simon　the　Pharisee　and　the　woman　that　was　a　sinner。　　When　he　ceased；

the　silence　that　followed　was　broken　by　a　sob　from　somewhere　in　the

room。　　The　sick　woman　stopped　her　moaning；　and　said；



'Turn　down　the　leaf　there；　please；　sir。　　Lilywhite　will　read　it　to

me　when　you're　gone。'



The　some　one　sobbed　again。　　It　was　a　young　slender　girl；　with　a　face

disfigured　by　the　small…pox；　and；　save　for　the　tearful　look　it　wore；

poor　and　expressionless。　　Falconer　said　something　gentle　to　her。



'Will　he　ever　come　again？'　she　sobbed。



'Who？'　asked　Falconer。



'HimJesus　Christ。　　I've　heard　tell；　I　think；　that　he　was　to　come

again　some　day。'



'Why　do　you　ask？'



'Because'　she　said；　with　a　fresh　burst　of　tears；　which　rendered

the　words　that　followed　unintelligible。　　But　she　recovered　herself

in　a　few　moments；　and；　as　if　finishing　her　sentence；　put　her　hand　up

to　her　poor；　thin；　colourless　hair；　and　said；



'My　hair　ain't　long　enough　to　wipe　his　feet。'



'Do　you　know　what　he　would　say　to　you；　my　girl？'　　Falconer　asked。



'No。　What　would　he　say　to　me？　　He　would　speak　to　me；　would　he？'



'He　would　say：　Thy　sins　are　forgiven　thee。'



'Would　he；　though？　　Would　he？'　she　cried；　starting　up。　'Take　me　to

himtake　me　to　him。　　Oh！　　I　forgot。　　He's　dead。　　But　he　will　come

again；　won't　he？　　He　was　crucified　four　times；　you　know；　and　he　must

ha'　come　four　times　for　that。　　Would　they　crucify　him　again；　sir？'



'No；　they　wouldn't　crucify　him　nowin　England　at　least。　　They　would

only　laugh　at　him；　shake　their　heads　at　what　he　told　them；　as　much

as　to　say　it　wasn't　true；　and　sneer　and　mock　at　him　in　some　of　the

newspapers。'



'Oh　dear！　　I've　been　very　wicked。'



'But　you　won't　be　so　any　more。'



'No；　no；　no。　　I　won't；　I　won't；　I　won't。'



She　talked　hurriedly；　almost　wildly。　　The　coarse　old　woman　tapped

her　forehead　with　her　finger。　　Falconer　took　the　girl's　hand。



'What　is　your　name？'　he　said。



'Nell。'



'What　more？'



'Nothing　more。'



'Well；　Nelly；'　said　Falconer。



'How　kind　of　you　to　call　me　Nelly！'　interrupted　the　poor　girl。　'They

always　calls　me　Nell；　just。'



'Nelly；'　repeated　Falconer；　'I　will　send　a　lady　here　to…morrow　to

take　you　away　with　her；　if　you　like；　and　tell　you　how　you　must　do　to

find　Jesus。People　always　find　him　that　want　to　find　h