robert falconer-第139章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



that　death　was　at　hand；　for；　although　much　more　frail；　she　felt　as

well　as　ever。



By　this　time　Falconer　had　introduced　me　to　his　father。　　I　found　him

in　some　things　very　like　his　son；　in　others；　very　different。　　His

manners　were　more　polished；　his　pleasure　in　pleasing　much　greater：

his　humanity　had　blossomed　too　easily；　and　then　run　to　seed。　　Alas；

to　no　seed　that　could　bear　fruit！　　There　was　a　weak　expression　about

his　moutha　wavering　interrogation：　it　was　so　different　from　the

firmly…closed　portals　whence　issued　the　golden　speech　of　his　son！

He　had　a　sly；　sidelong　look　at　times；　whether　of　doubt　or　cunning；

I　could　not　always　determine。　　His　eyes；　unlike　his　son's；　were　of　a

light　blue；　and　hazy　both　in　texture　and　expression。　　His　hands　were

long…fingered　and　tremulous。　　He　gave　your　hand　a　sharp　squeeze；　and

the　same　instant　abandoned　it　with　indifference。　　I　soon　began　to

discover　in　him　a　tendency　to　patronize　any　one　who　showed　him　a

particle　of　respect　as　distinguished　from　common…place　civility。

But　under　all　outward　appearances　it　seemed　to　me　that　there　was　a

change　going　on：　at　least　being　very　willing　to　believe　it；　I　found

nothing　to　render　belief　impossible。



He　was　very　fond　of　the　flute　his　son　had　given　him；　and　on　that

sweetest　and　most　expressionless　of　instruments　he　played

exquisitely。



One　evening　when　I　called　to　see　them；　Falconer　said；



'We　are　going　out　of　town　for　a　few　weeks；　Gordon：　will　you　go　with

us？'



'I　am　afraid　I　can't。'



'Why？　　You　have　no　teaching　at　present；　and　your　writing　you　can　do

as　well　in　the　country　as　in　town。'



'That　is　true；　but　still　I　don't　see　how　I　can。　　I　am　too　poor　for

one　thing。'



'Between　you　and　me　that　is　nonsense。'



'Well；　I　withdraw　that；'　I　said。　'But　there　is　so　much　to　be　done；

specially　as　you　will　be　away；　and　Miss　St　John　is　at　the　Lakes。'



'That　is　all　very　true；　but　you　need　a　change。　　I　have　seen　for　some

weeks　that　you　are　failing。　　Mind；　it　is　our　best　work　that　He

wants；　not　the　dregs　of　our　exhaustion。　　I　hope　you　are　not　of　the

mind　of　our　friend　Mr。　Watts；　the　curate　of　St。　Gregory's。'



'I　thought　you　had　a　high　opinion　of　Mr。　Watts；'　I　returned。



'So　I　have。　　I　hope　it　is　not　necessary　to　agree　with　a　man　in

everything　before　we　can　have　a　high　opinion　of　him。'



'Of　course　not。　　But　what　is　it　you　hope　I　am　not　of　his　opinion

in？'



'He　seems　ambitious　of　killing　himself　with　workof　wearing　himself

out　in　the　service　of　his　masterand　as　quickly　as　possible。　　A

good　deal　of　that　kind　of　thing　is　a　mere　holding　of　the　axe　to　the

grindstone；　not　a　lifting　of　it　up　against　thick　trees。　　Only　he

won't　be　convinced　till　it　comes　to　the　helve。　　I　met　him　the　other

day；　he　was　looking　as　white　as　his　surplice。　　I　took　upon　me　to

read　him　a　lecture　on　the　holiness　of　holidays。　〃I　can't　leave　my

poor；〃　he　said。　〃Do　you　think　God　can't　do　without　you？〃　　I　asked。

〃Is　he　so　weak　that　he　cannot　spare　the　help　of　a　weary　man？　　But　I

think　he　must　prefer　quality　to　quantity；　and　for　healthy　work　you

must　be　healthy　yourself。　　How　can　you　be　the　visible　sign　of　the

Christ…present　amongst　men；　if　you　inhabit　an　exhausted；　irritable

brain？　　Go　to　God's　infirmary　and　rest　a　while。　　Bring　back　health

from　the　country　to　those　that　cannot　go　to　it。　　If　on　the　way　it　be

transmuted　into　spiritual　forms；　so　much　the　better。　　A　little　more

of　God　will　make　up　for　a　good　deal　less　of　you。'



'What　did　he　say　to　that？'



'He　said　our　Lord　died　doing　the　will　of　his　Father。　　I　told

him〃Yes；　when　his　time　was　come；　not　sooner。　　Besides；　he　often

avoided　both　speech　and　action。〃　〃Yes；〃　he　answered；　〃but　he　could

tell　when；　and　we　cannot。〃　〃Therefore；〃　I　rejoined；　〃you　ought　to

accept　your　exhaustion　as　a　token　that　your　absence　will　be　the　best

thing　for　your　people。　　If　there　were　no　God；　then　perhaps　you　ought

to　work　till　you　drop　down　deadI　don't　know。〃'



'Is　he　gone　yet？'



'No。　He　won't　go。　　I　couldn't　persuade　him。'



'When　do　you　go？'



'To…morrow。'



'I　shall　be　ready；　if　you　really　mean　it。'



'That's　an　if　worthy　only　of　a　courtier。　　There　may　be　much　virtue

in　an　if；　as　Touchstone　says；　for　the　taking　up　of　a　quarrel；　but

that　if　is　bad　enough　to　breed　one；'　said　Falconer；　laughing。　'Be　at

the　Paddington　Station　at　noon　to…morrow。　　To　tell　the　whole　truth；

I　want　you　to　help　me　with　my　father。'



This　last　was　said　at　the　door　as　he　showed　me　out。



In　the　afternoon　we　were　nearing　Bristol。　　It　was　a　lovely　day　in

October。　　Andrew　had　been　enjoying　himself；　but　it　was　evidently

rather　the　pleasure　of　travelling　in　a　first…class　carriage　like　a

gentleman　than　any　delight　in　the　beauty　of　heaven　and　earth。　　The

country　was　in　the　rich　sombre　dress　of　decay。



'Is　it　not　remarkable；'　said　my　friend　to　me；　'that　the　older　I

grow；　I　find　autumn　affecting　me　the　more　like　spring？'



'I　am　thankful　to　say；'　interposed　Andrew；　with　a　smile　in　which　was

mingled　a　shade　of　superiority；　'that　no　change　of　the　seasons　ever

affects　me。'



'Are　you　sure　you　are　right　in　being　thankful　for　that；　father？'

asked　his　son。



His　father　gazed　at　him　for　a　moment；　seemed　to　bethink　himself

after　some　feeble　fashion　or　other；　and　rejoined；



'Well；　I　must　confess　I　did　feel　a　touch　of　the　rheumatism　this

morning。'



How　I　pitied　Falconer！　　Would　he　ever　see　of　the　travail　of　his　soul

in　this　man？　　But　he　only　smiled　a　deep　sweet　smile；　and　seemed　to

be　thinking　divine　things　in　that　great　head　of　his。



At　Bristol　we　went　on　board　a　small　steamer；　and　at　night　were

landed　at　a　little　village　on　the　coast　of　North　Devon。　　The　hotel

to　which　we　went　was　on　the　steep　bank　of　a　tumultuous　little　river；

which　tumbled　past　its　foundation　of　rock；　like　a　troop　of　watery

horses　galloping　by　with　ever…dissolving　limbs。　　The　elder　Falconer

retired　almost　as　soon　as　we　had　had　supper。　　My　friend　and　I

lighted　our　pipes；　and　sat　by　the　open　window；　for　although　the

autumn　was　so　far　advanced；　the　air　here　was　very　mild。　　For　some

time　we　only　listened　to　the　sound　of　the　waters。



'There　are　three　things；'　said　Falconer　at　last；　taking　his　pipe　out

of　his　mouth　with　a　smile；　'that　give　a　peculiarly　perfect　feeling

of　abandonment：　the　laughter　of　a　child；　a　snake　lying　across　a

fallen　branch；　and　the　rush　of　a　stream　like　this　beneath　us；　whose

only　thought　is　to　get　to　the　sea。'



We　did　not　talk　much　that　night；　however；　but　went　soon　to　bed。

None　of　us　slept　well。　　We　agreed　in　the　morning　that　the　noise　of

the　stream　had　been　too　much　for　us　all；　and　that　the　place　felt

close　and　torpid。　　Andrew　complained　that　the　ceaseless　sound

wearied　him；　and　Robert　that　he　felt　the　aimless　endlessness　of　it

more　than　was　good　for　him。　　I　confess　it　irritated　me　like　an

anodyne　unable　to　soothe。　　We　were　clearly　all　in　want　of　something

different。　　The　air　between　the　hills　clung　to　them；　hot　and

moveless。　　We　would　climb　those　hills；　and　breathe　the　air　that

flitted　about　over　their　craggy　tops。



As　soon　as　we　had　breakfasted；　we　set　out。　　It　was　soon　evident　that

Andrew　could　not　ascend　the　steep　road。　　We　returned　and　got　a

carriage。　　When　we　reached　the　top；　it　was　like　a　resurrection；　like

a　dawning　of　hope　out　of　despair。　　The　cool　friendly　wind　blew　on

our　faces；　and　breathed　strength　into　our　frames。　　Before　us　lay　the

ocean；　the　visible　type　of　the　invisible；　and　the　vessels　with　their

white　sails　moved　about　over　it　like　the　thoughts　of　men　feebly

searching　the　unknown。　　Even　Andrew　Falconer　spread　out　his　arms　to

the　wind；　and　breathed　deep；　filling　his　great　chest　full。



'I　feel　like　a　boy　again；'　he　said。



His　son　strode　to　his　side；　and　laid　his　arm　over　his　shoulders。



'So　do　I；　father；'　he　returned；　'but　it　is　because　I　have　got　you。'



The　old　man　turned　and　looked　at　him　with　a　tenderness　I　had　never

seen　on　his