robert falconer-第133章

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out　before　the　God　of　his　life；　Falconer　rose；　strengthened　to　meet

the　honourable　debased　soul　when　it　should　at　length　look　forth　from

the　dull　smeared　windows　of　those　ill…used　eyes。



He　felt　his　pulse。　　There　was　no　danger　from　the　narcotic。　　The　coma

would　pass　away。　　Meantime　he　would　get　him　to　bed。　　When　he　began

to　undress　him　a　new　reverence　arose　which　overcame　all　disgust　at

the　state　in　which　he　found　him。　　At　length　one　sad　little　fact

about　his　dress；　revealing　the　poverty…stricken　attempt　of　a　man　to

preserve　the　shadow　of　decency；　called　back　the　waters　of　the

far…ebbed　ocean　of　his　feelings。　　At　the　prick　of　a　pin　the　heart's

blood　will　flow：　at　the　sight　ofa　pin　it　wasRobert　burst　into

tears；　and　wept　like　a　child；　the　deadly　cold　was　banished　from　his

heart；　and　he　not　only　loved；　but　knew　that　he　lovedfelt　the　love

that　was　there。　　Everything　then　about　the　worn　body　and　shabby

garments　of　the　man　smote　upon　the　heart　of　his　son；　and　through　his

very　poverty　he　was　sacred　in　his　eyes。　　The　human　heart　awakened

the　filialreversing　thus　the　ordinary　process　of　Nature；　who　by

means　of　the　filial；　when　her　plans　are　unbroken；　awakes　the　human；

and　he　reproached　himself　bitterly　for　his　hardness；　as　he　now

judged　his　late　mental　conditionunfairly；　I　think。　　He　soon　had

him　safe　in　bed；　unconscious　of　the　helping　hands　that　had　been　busy

about　him　in　his　heedless　sleep；　unconscious　of　the　radiant　planet

of　love　that　had　been　folding　him　round　in　its　atmosphere　of

affection。



But　while　he　thus　ministered；　a　new　question　arose　in　his　mindto

meet　with　its　own　new；　God…given　answer。　　What　if　this　should　not　be

the　man　after　all？if　this　love　had　been　spent　in　mistake；　and　did

not　belong　to　him　at　all？　　The　answer　was；　that　he　was　a　man。　　The

love　Robert　had　given　he　could　not；　would　not　withdraw。　　The　man　who

had　been　for　a　moment　as　his　father　he　could　not　cease　to　regard

with　devotion。　　At　least　he　was　a　man　with　a　divine　soul。　　He　might

at　least　be　somebody's　father。　　Where　love　had　found　a　moment's　rest

for　the　sole　of　its　foot；　there　it　must　build　its　nest。



When　he　had　got　him　safe　in　bed；　he　sat　down　beside　him　to　think

what　he　would　do　next。　　This　sleep　gave　him　very　needful　leisure　to

think。　　He　could　determine　nothingnot　even　how　to　find　out　if　he

was　indeed　his　father。　　If　he　approached　the　subject　without　guile；

the　man　might　be　fearful　and　cunningmight　have　reasons　for　being

so；　and　for　striving　to　conceal　the　truth。　　But　this　was　the　first

thing　to　make　sure　of；　because；　if　it　was　he；　all　the　hold　he　had

upon　him　lay　in　his　knowing　it　for　certain。　　He　could　not　think。　　He

had　had　little　sleep　the　night　before。　　He　must　not　sleep　this

night。　　He　dragged　his　bath　into　his　sitting…room；　and　refreshed　his

faculties　with　plenty　of　cold　water；　then　lighted　his　pipe　and　went

on　thinkingnot　without　prayer　to　that　Power　whose　candle　is　the

understanding　of　man。　　All　at　once　he　saw　how　to　begin。　　He　went

again　into　the　chamber；　and　looked　at　the　man；　and　handled　him；　and

knew　by　his　art　that　a　waking　of　some　sort　was　nigh。　　Then　he　went

to　a　corner　of　his　sitting…room；　and　from　beneath　the　table　drew　out

a　long　box；　and　from　the　box　lifted　Dooble　Sandy's　auld　wife；　tuned

the　somewhat　neglected　strings；　and　laid　the　instrument　on　the

table。



When；　keeping　constant　watch　over　the　sleeping　man；　he　judged　at

length　that　his　soul　had　come　near　enough　to　the　surface　of　the

ocean　of　sleep　to　communicate　with　the　outer　world　through　that

bubble　his　body；　which　had　floated　upon　its　waves　all　the　night

unconscious；　he　put　his　chair　just　outside　the　chamber　door；　which

opened　from　his　sitting…room；　and　began　to　play　gently；　softly；　far

away。　　For　a　while　he　extemporized　only；　thinking　of　Rothieden；　and

the　grandmother；　and　the　bleach…green；　and　the　hills；　and　the　waste

old　factory；　and　his　mother's　portrait　and　letters。　　As　he　dreamed

on；　his　dream　got　louder；　and；　he　hoped；　was　waking　a　more　and　more

vivid　dream　in　the　mind　of　the　sleeper。　'For　who　can　tell；'　thought

Falconer；　'what　mysterious　sympathies　of　blood　and　childhood's

experience　there　may　be　between　me　and　that　man？such；　it　may　be；

that　my　utterance　on　the　violin　will　wake　in　his　soul　the　very

visions　of　which　my　soul　is　full　while　I　play；　each　with　its　own

nebulous　atmosphere　of　dream…light　around　it。'　　For　music　wakes　its

own　feeling；　and　feeling　wakes　thought；　or　rather；　when　perfected；

blossoms　into　thought；　thought　radiant　of　music　as　those　lilies　that

shine　phosphorescent　in　the　July　nights。　　He　played　more　and　more

forcefully；　growing　in　hope。　　But　he　had　been　led　astray　in　some

measure　by　the　fulness　of　his　expectation。　　Strange　to　tell；　doctor

as　he　was；　he　had　forgotten　one　important　factor　in　his　calculation：

how　the　man　would　awake　from　his　artificial　sleep。　　He　had　not

reckoned　of　how　the　limbeck　of　his　brain　would　be　left　discoloured

with　vile　deposit；　when　the　fumes　of　the　narcotic　should　have

settled　and　given　up　its　central　spaces　to　the　faintness　of

desertion。



Robert　was　very　keen　of　hearing。　　Indeed　he　possessed　all　his　senses

keener　than　any　other　man　I　have　known。　　He　heard　him　toss　on　his

bed。　　Then　he　broke　into　a　growl；　and　damned　the　miauling；　which；　he

said；　the　strings　could　never　have　learned　anywhere　but　in　a　cat's

belly。　　But　Robert　was　used　to　bad　language；　and　there　are　some　bad

things　which；　seeing　that　there　they　are；　it　is　of　the　greatest

consequence　to　get　used　to。　　It　gave　him；　no　doubt；　a　pang　of

disappointment　to　hear　such　an　echo　to　his　music　from　the　soul　which

he　had　hoped　especially　fitted　to　respond　in　harmonious　unison　with

the　wail　of　his　violin。　　But　not　for　even　this　moment　did　he　lose

his　presence　of　mind。　　He　instantly　moderated　the　tone　of　the

instrument；　and　gradually　drew　the　sound　away　once　more　into　the

distance　of　hearing。　　But　he　did　not　therefore　let　it　die。　　Through

various　changes　it　floated　in　the　thin　？ther　of　the　soul；　changes

delicate　as　when　the　wind　leaves　the　harp　of　the　reeds　by　a　river's

brink；　and　falls　a…ringing　at　the　heather　bells；　or　playing　with　the

dry　silvery　pods　of　honesty　that　hang　in　the　poor　man's　garden；　till

at　length　it　drew　nearer　once　more；　bearing　on　its　wings　the　wail　of

red　Flodden；　the　Flowers　of　the　Forest。　　Listening　through　the

melody　for　sounds　of　a　far　different　kind；　Robert　was　aware　that

those　sounds　had　ceased；　the　growling　was　still；　he　heard　no　more

turnings　to　and　fro。　　How　it　was　operating　he　could　not　tell；

further　than　that　there　must　be　some　measure　of　soothing　in　its

influence。　　He　ceased　quite；　and　listened　again。　　For　a　few　moments

there　was　no　sound。　　Then　he　heard　the　half…articulate　murmuring　of

one　whose　organs　have　been　all　but　overcome　by　the　beneficent

paralysis　of　sleep；　but　whose　feeble　will　would　compel　them　to

utterance。　　He　was　nearly　asleep　again。　　Was　it　a　fact；　or　a　fancy

of　Robert's　eager　heart？　　Did　the　man　really　say；



'Play　that　again；　father。　　It's　bonnie；　that！　　I　aye　likit　the

Flooers　o'　the　Forest。　　Play　awa'。　　I　hae　had　a　frichtsome　dream。　　I

thocht　I　was　i'　the　ill　place。　　I　doobt　I'm　no　weel。　　But　yer　fiddle

aye　did　me　gude。　　Play　awa'；　father！'



All　the　night　through；　till　the　dawn　of　the　gray　morning；　Falconer

watched　the　sleeping　man；　all　but　certain　that　he　was　indeed　his

father。　　Eternities　of　thought　passed　through　his　mind　as　he

watchedthis　time　by　the　couch；　as　he　hoped；　of　a　new　birth。　　He

was　about　to　see　what　could　be　done　by　one　man；　strengthened　by　all

the　aids　that　love　and　devotion　could　give；　for　the　redemption　of

his　fellow。　　As　through　the　darkness　of　the　night　and　a　sluggish　fog

to　aid　it；　the　light　of　a　pure　heaven　made　its　slow　irresistible

way；　his　hope　grew　that　athwart　the　fog　of　an　evil　life；　the

darkness　that　might　be　felt；　the　light　of　the　Spirit　of　God　would

yet　penetrate　the　heart　of　the　sinner；　and　shake　the　wickedness　out