robert falconer-第32章

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red…hot　ace　of　spadeswhich　she　thrust　between　the　bars　of　the

grate；　into　the　heart　of　a　nest　of　brushwood。　　Presently　a　cheerful

fire　illuminated　the　room。



Ericson　was　seated　on　one　chair；　with　his　feet　on　another；　his　head

sunk　on　his　bosom；　and　his　eyes　thinking。　　There　was　something　about

him　almost　as　powerfully　attractive　to　Robert　as　it　had　been　to　Miss

Letty。　　So　he　sat　gazing　at　him；　and　longing　for　a　chance　of　doing

something　for　him。　　He　had　reverence　already；　and　some　love；　but　he

had　never　felt　at　all　as　he　felt　towards　this　man。　　Nor　was　it　as

the　Chinese　puzzlers　called　Scotch　metaphysicians；　might　have

represented　ita　combination　of　love　and　reverence。　　It　was　the

recognition　of　the　eternal　brotherhood　between　him　and　one　nobler

than　himselfhence　a　lovely　eager　worship。



Seeing　Ericson　look　about　him　as　if　he　wanted　something；　Robert

started　to　his　feet。



'Is　there　onything　ye　want；　Mr。　Ericson？'　he　said；　with　service

standing　in　his　eyes。



'A　small　bundle　I　think　I　brought　up　with　me；'　replied　the　youth。



It　was　not　there。　　Robert　rushed　down…stairs；　and　returned　with

ita　nightshirt　and　a　hairbrush　or　so；　tied　up　in　a　blue　cotton

handkerchief。　　This　was　all　that　Robert　was　able　to　do　for　Ericson

that　evening。



He　went　home　and　dreamed　about　him。　　He　called　at　The　Boar's　Head

the　next　morning　before　going　to　school；　but　Ericson　was　not　yet　up。

When　he　called　again　as　soon　as　morning　school　was　over；　he　found

that　they　had　persuaded　him　to　keep　his　bed；　but　Miss　Letty　took　him

up　to　his　room。　　He　looked　better；　was　pleased　to　see　Robert；　and

spoke　to　him　kindly。　　Twice　yet　Robert　called　to　inquire　after　him

that　day；　and　once　more　he　saw　him；　for　he　took　his　tea　up　to　him。



The　next　day　Ericson　was　much　better；　received　Robert　with　a　smile；

and　went　out　with　him　for　a　stroll；　for　all　his　companions　were

gone；　and　of　some　students　who　had　arrived　since　he　did　not　know

any。　　Robert　took　him　to　his　grandmother；　who　received　him　with

stately　kindness。　　Then　they　went　out　again；　and　passed　the　windows

of　Captain　Forsyth's　house。　　Mary　St。　John　was　playing。　　They　stood

for　a　moment；　almost　involuntarily；　to　listen。　　She　ceased。



'That's　the　music　of　the　spheres；'　said　Ericson；　in　a　low　voice；　as

they　moved　on。



'Will　you　tell　me　what　that　means？'　asked　Robert。　'I've　come　upon　't

ower　an'　ower　in　Milton。'



Thereupon　Ericson　explained　to　him　what　Pythagoras　had　taught　about

the　stars　moving　in　their　great　orbits　with　sounds　of　awful　harmony；

too　grandly　loud　for　the　human　organ　to　vibrate　in　response　to　their

musichence　unheard　of　men。　　And　Ericson　spoke　as　if　he　believed

it。　　But　after　he　had　spoken；　his　face　grew　sadder　than　ever；　and；

as　if　to　change　the　subject；　he　said；　abruptly；



'What　a　fine　old　lady　your　grandmother　is；　Robert！'



'Is　she？'　returned　Robert。



'I　don't　mean　to　say　she's　like　Miss　Letty；'　said　Ericson。　'She's　an

angel！'



A　long　pause　followed。　　Robert's　thoughts　went　roaming　in　their

usual　haunts。



'Do　you　think；　Mr。　Ericson；'　he　said；　at　length；　taking　up　the　old

question　still　floating　unanswered　in　his　mind；　'do　you　think　if　a

devil　was　to　repent　God　would　forgive　him？'



Ericson　turned　and　looked　at　him。　　Their　eyes　met。　　The　youth

wondered　at　the　boy。　　He　had　recognized　in　him　a　younger　brother；

one　who　had　begun　to　ask　questions；　calling　them　out　into　the　deaf

and　dumb　abyss　of　the　universe。



'If　God　was　as　good　as　I　would　like　him　to　be；　the　devils　themselves

would　repent；'　he　said；　turning　away。



Then　he　turned　again；　and　looking　down　upon　Robert　like　a　sorrowful

eagle　from　a　crag　over　its　harried　nest；　said；



'If　I　only　knew　that　God　was　as　good　asthat　woman；　I　should　die

content。'



Robert　heard　words　of　blasphemy　from　the　mouth　of　an　angel；　but　his

respect　for　Ericson　compelled　a　reply。



'What　woman；　Mr。　Ericson？'　he　asked。



'I　mean　Miss　Letty；　of　course。'



'But　surely　ye　dinna　think　God's　nae　as　guid　as　she　is？　　Surely　he's

as　good　as　he　can　be。　　He　is　good；　ye　ken。'



'Oh；　yes。　　They　say　so。　　And　then　they　tell　you　something　about　him

that　isn't　good；　and　go　on　calling　him　good　all　the　same。　　But

calling　anybody　good　doesn't　make　him　good；　you　know。'



'Then　ye　dinna　believe　'at　God　is　good；　Mr。　Ericson？'　said　Robert；

choking　with　a　strange　mingling　of　horror　and　hope。



'I　didn't　say　that；　my　boy。　　But　to　know　that　God　was　good；　and

fair；　and　kindheartily；　I　mean；　not　half…ways；　and　with　ifs　and

butsmy　boy；　there　would　be　nothing　left　to　be　miserable　about。'



In　a　momentary　flash　of　thought；　Robert　wondered　whether　this　might

not　be　his　old　friend；　the　repentant　angel；　sent　to　earth　as　a　man；

that　he　might　have　a　share　in　the　redemption；　and　work　out　his　own

salvation。　　And　from　this　very　moment　the　thoughts　about　God　that

had　hitherto　been　moving　in　formless　solution　in　his　mind　began

slowly　to　crystallize。



The　next　day；　Eric　Ericson；　not　without　a　piece　in　ae　pouch　and

money　in　another；　took　his　way　home；　if　home　it　could　be　called

where　neither　father；　mother；　brother；　nor　sister　awaited　his

return。　　For　a　season　Robert　saw　him　no　more。



As　often　as　his　name　was　mentioned；　Miss　Letty's　eyes　would　grow

hazy；　and　as　often　she　would　make　some　comical　remark。



'Puir　fallow！'　she　would　say；　'he　was　ower　lang…leggit　for　this

warld。'



Or　again：



'Ay；　he　was　a　braw　chield。　　But　he　canna　live。　　His　feet's　ower

sma'。'



Or　yet　again：



'Saw　ye　ever　sic　a　gowk；　to　mak　sic　a　wark　aboot　sittin'　doon　an'

haein'　his　feet　washed；　as　gin　that　cost　a　body　onything！'









CHAPTER　XVI。



MR。　　LAMMIE'S　FARM。



One　of　the　first　warm　mornings　in　the　beginning　of　summer；　the　boy

woke　early；　and　lay　awake；　as　was　his　custom；　thinking。　　The　sun；　in

all　the　indescribable　purity　of　its　morning　light；　had　kindled　a

spot　of　brilliance　just　about　where　his　grannie's　head　must　be　lying

asleep　in　its　sad　thoughts；　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　partition。



He　lay　looking　at　the　light。　　There　came　a　gentle　tapping　at　his

window。　　A　long　streamer　of　honeysuckle；　not　yet　in　blossom；　but

alive　with　the　life　of　the　summer；　was　blown　by　the　air　of　the

morning　against　his　window…pane；　as　if　calling　him　to　get　up　and

look　out。　　He　did　get　up　and　look　out。



But　he　started　back　in　such　haste　that　he　fell　against　the　side　of

his　bed。　　Within　a　few　yards　of　his　window；　bending　over　a　bush；　was

the　loveliest　face　he　had　ever　seenthe　only　face；　in　fact；　he　had

ever　yet　felt　to　be　beautiful。　　For　the　window　looked　directly　into

the　garden　of　the　next　house：　its　honeysuckle　tapped　at　his　window；

its　sweet…peas　grew　against　his　window…sill。　　It　was　the　face　of　the

angel　of　that　night；　but　how　different　when　illuminated　by　the

morning　sun　from　then；　when　lighted　up　by　a　chamber…candle！　　The

first　thought　that　came　to　him　was　the　half…ludicrous；　all…fantastic

idea　of　the　shoemaker　about　his　grandfather's　violin　being　a　woman。

A　vaguest　dream…vision　of　her　having　escaped　from　his　grandmother's

aumrie　（store…closet）；　and　wandering　free　amidst　the　wind　and　among

the　flowers；　crossed　his　mind　before　he　had　recovered　sufficiently

from　his　surprise　to　prevent　Fancy　from　cutting　any　more　of　those

too　ridiculous　capers　in　which　she　indulged　at　will　in　sleep；　and　as

often　besides　as　she　can　get　away　from　the　spectacles　of　old　Grannie

Judgment。



But　the　music　of　her　revelation　was　not　that　of　the　violin；　and

Robert　vaguely　felt　this；　though　he　searched　no　further　for　a

fitting　instrument　to　represent　her。　　If　he　had　heard　the　organ

indeed！but　he　knew　no　instrument　save　the　violin：　the　piano　he　had

only　heard　through　the　window。　　For　a　few　moments　her　face　brooded

over　the　bush；　and　her　long；　finely…modelled　fingers　travelled　about

it　as　if　they　were　creating　a　flower　upon　itprobably　they　were

assisting　the　birth　or　blowing　of　some　beaut