robert falconer-第58章

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a　touch　of　bitterness'ye　needna　care　aboot　that。'



'I　do　not　care　aboot　the　deein'　o'　't。　　But　I　jist　want　to　live　lang

eneuch　to　lat　the　Lord　ken　'at　I'm　in　doonricht　earnest　aboot　it。　　I

hae　nae　chance　o'　drinkin'　as　lang's　I'm　lyin'　here。'



'Never　ye　fash　yer　heid　aboot　that。　　Ye　can　lippen　（trust）　that　to

him；　for　it's　his　ain　business。　　He'll　see　'at　ye're　a'　richt。

Dinna　ye　think　'at　he'll　lat　ye　aff。'



'The　Lord　forbid；'　responded　the　soutar　earnestly。　'It　maun　be　a'

pitten　richt。　　It　wad　be　dreidfu'　to　be　latten　aff。　　I　wadna　hae　him

content　wi'　cobbler's　wark。I　hae　't；'　he　resumed；　after　a　few

minutes'　pause；　'the　Lord's　easy　pleased；　but　ill　to　saitisfee。　　I'm

sair　pleased　wi'　your　playin'；　Robert；　but　it's　naething　like　the

richt　thing　yet。　　It　does　me　gude　to　hear　ye；　though；　for　a'　that。'



The　very　next　night　he　found　him　evidently　sinking　fast。　　Robert

took　the　violin；　and　was　about　to　play；　but　the　soutar　stretched　out

his　one　left　hand；　and　took　it　from　him；　laid　it　across　his　chest

and　his　arm　over　it；　for　a　few　moments；　as　if　he　were　bidding　it

farewell；　then　held　it　out　to　Robert；　saying；



'Hae；　Robert。　　She's　yours。Death's　a　sair　divorce。Maybe　they　'll

hae　an　orra3　fiddle　whaur　I'm　gaein'；　though。　　Think　o'　a　Rothieden

soutar　playin'　afore　his　grace！'



Robert　saw　that　his　mind　was　wandering；　and　mingled　the　paltry

honours　of　earth　with　the　grand　simplicities　of　heaven。　　He　began　to

play　The　Land　o'　the　Leal。　For　a　little　while　Sandy　seemed　to　follow

and　comprehend　the　tones；　but　by　slow　degrees　the　light　departed

from　his　face。　　At　length　his　jaw　fell；　and　with　a　sigh；　the　body

parted　from　Dooble　Sanny；　and　he　went　to　God。



His　wife　closed　mouth　and　eyes　without　a　word；　laid　the　two　arms；

equally　powerless　now；　straight　by　his　sides；　then　seating　herself

on　the　edge　of　the　bed；　said；



'Dinna　bide；　Robert。　　It's　a'　ower　noo。　　He's　gang　hame。　　Gin　I　war

only　wi'　'im　wharever　he　is！'



She　burst　into　tears；　but　dried　her　eyes　a　moment　after；　and　seeing

that　Robert　still　lingered；　said；



'Gang；　Robert；　an'　sen'　Mistress　Downie　to　me。　　Dinna　greitthere's

a　gude　lad；　but　tak　yer　fiddle　an'　gang。　　Ye　can　be　no　more　use。'



Robert　obeyed。　　With　his　violin　in　his　hand；　he　went　home；　and；　with

his　violin　still　in　his　hand；　walked　into　his　grandmother's　parlour。



'Hoo　daur　ye　bring　sic　a　thing　into　my　hoose？'　she　said；　roused　by

the　apparent　defiance　of　her　grandson。　'Hoo　daur　ye；　efter　what's

come　an'　gane？'



''Cause　Dooble　Sanny's　come　and　gane；　grannie；　and　left　naething　but

this　ahint　him。　　And　this　ane's　mine；　whase　ever　the　ither　micht　be。

His　wife's　left　wi'oot　a　plack；　an'　I　s'　warran'　the　gude　fowk　o'

Rothieden　winna　mak　sae　muckle　o'　her　noo　'at　her　man's　awa'；　for

she　never　was　sic　a　randy　as　he　was；　an'　the　triumph　o'　grace　in　her

's　but　sma'；　therefore。　　Sae　I　maun　mak　the　best　'at　I　can　o'　the

fiddle　for　her。　　An'　ye　maunna　touch　this　ane；　grannie；　for　though

ye　way　think　it　richt　to　burn　fiddles；　ither　fowk　disna；　and　this

has　to　do　wi'　ither　fowk；　grannie；　it's　no　atween　you　an'　me；　ye

ken；'　Robert　went　on；　fearful　lest　she　might　consider　herself

divinely　commissioned　to　extirpate　the　whole　race　of　stringed

instruments；'for　I　maun　sell　't　for　her。'



'Tak　it　oot　o'　my　sicht；'　said　Mrs。　Falconer；　and　said　no　more。



He　carried　the　instrument　up　to　his　room；　laid　it　on　his　bed；　locked

his　door；　put　the　key　in　his　pocket；　and　descended　to　the　parlour。



'He's　deid；　is　he？'　said　his　grandmother；　as　he　re…entered。



'Ay　is　he；　grannie；'　answered　Robert。　'He　deid　a　repentant　man。'



'An'　a　believin'？'　asked　Mrs。　Falconer。



'Weel；　grannie；　I　canna　say　'at　he　believed　a'　thing　'at　ever　was；

for　a　body　michtna　ken　a'　thing。'



'Toots；　laddie！　　Was　't　savin'　faith？'



'I　dinna　richtly　ken　what　ye　mean　by　that；　but　I'm　thinkin'　it　was

muckle　the　same　kin'　o'　faith　'at　the　prodigal　had；　for　they　baith

rase　an'　gaed　hame。'



''Deed；　maybe　ye're　richt；　laddie；'　returned　Mrs。　Falconer；　after　a

moment's　thought。　'We'll　houp　the　best。'



All　the　remainder　of　the　evening　she　sat　motionless；　with　her　eyes

fixed　on　the　rug　before　her；　thinking；　no　doubt；　of　the　repentance

and　salvation　of　the　fiddler；　and　what　hope　there　might　yet　be　for

her　own　lost　son。



The　next　day　being　Saturday；　Robert　set　out　for　Bodyfauld；　taking

the　violin　with　him。　　He　went　alone；　for　he　was　in　no　mood　for

Shargar's　company。　　It　was　a　fine　spring　day；　the　woods　were

budding；　and　the　fragrance　of　the　larches　floated　across　his　way。

There　was　a　lovely　sadness　in　the　sky；　and　in　the　motions　of　the

air；　and　in　the　scent　of　the　earthas　if　they　all　knew　that　fine

things　were　at　hand　which　never　could　be　so　beautiful　as　those　that

had　gone　away。　　And　Robert　wondered　how　it　was　that　everything

should　look　so　different。　　Even　Bodyfauld　seemed　to　have　lost　its

enchantment；　though　his　friends　were　as　kind　as　ever。　　Mr。　Lammie

went　into　a　rage　at　the　story　of　the　lost　violin；　and　Miss　Lammie

cried　from　sympathy　with　Robert's　distress　at　the　fate　of　his　bonny

leddy。　　Then　he　came　to　the　occasion　of　his　visit；　which　was　to　beg

Mr。　Lammie；　when　next　he　went　to　Aberdeen；　to　take　the　soutar's

fiddle；　and　get　what　he　could　for　it；　to　help　his　widow。



'Poor　Sanny！'　said　Robert；　'it　never　cam'　intil　's　heid　to　sell　her；

nae　mair　nor　gin　she　had　been　the　auld　wife　'at　he　ca'd　her。'



Mr。　Lammie　undertook　the　commission；　and　the　next　time　he　saw

Robert；　handed　him　ten　pounds　as　the　result　of　the　negotiation。　　It

was　all　Robert　could　do；　however；　to　get　the　poor　woman　to　take　the

money。　　She　looked　at　it　with　repugnance；　almost　as　if　it　had　been

the　price　of　blood。　　But　Robert　having　succeeded　in　overcoming　her

scruples；　she　did　take　it；　and　therewith　provide　a　store　of

sweeties；　and　reels　of　cotton；　and　tobacco；　for　sale　in　Sanny's

workshop。　　She　certainly　did　not　make　money　by　her　merchandise；　for

her　anxiety　to　be　honest　rose　to　the　absurd；　but　she　contrived　to

live　without　being　reduced　to　prey　upon　her　own　gingerbread　and

rock。









CHAPTER　IV。



THE　ABERDEEN　GARRET。



Miss　St。　John　had　long　since　returned　from　her　visit；　but　having

heard　how　much　Robert　was　taken　up　with　his　dying　friend；　she　judged

it　better　to　leave　her　intended　proposal　of　renewing　her　lessons

alone　for　the　present。　　Meeting　him；　however；　soon　after　Alexander's

death；　she　introduced　the　subject；　and　Robert　was　enraptured　at　the

prospect　of　the　re…opening　of　the　gates　of　his　paradise。　　If　he　did

not　inform　his　grandmother　of　the　fact；　neither　did　he　attempt　to

conceal　it；　but　she　took　no　notice；　thinking　probably　that　the　whole

affair　would　be　effectually　disposed　of　by　his　departure。　　Till　that

period　arrived；　he　had　a　lesson　almost　every　evening；　and　Miss　St。

John　was　surprised　to　find　how　the　boy　had　grown　since　the　door　was

built　up。　　Robert's　gratitude　grew　into　a　kind　of　worship。



The　evening　before　his　departure　for　Bodyfauldwhence　his

grandmother　had　arranged　that　he　should　start　for　Aberdeen；　in　order

that　he　might　have　the　company　of　Mr。　Lammie；　whom　business　drew

thither　about　the　same　timeas　he　was　having　his　last　lesson；　Mrs。

Forsyth　left　the　room。　　Thereupon　Robert；　who　had　been　dejected　all

day　at　the　thought　of　the　separation　from　Miss　St。　John；　found　his

heart　beating　so　violently　that　he　could　hardly　breathe。　　Probably

she　saw　his　emotion；　for　she　put　her　hand　on　the　keys；　as　if　to

cover　it　by　showing　him　how　some　movement　was　to　be　better　effected。

He　seized　her　hand　and　lifted　it　to　his　lips。　　But　when　he　found

that　instead　of　snatching　it　away；　she　yielded　it；　nay　gently

pressed　it　to　his　face；　he　burst　into　tears；　and　dropped　on　his

knees；　as　if　before　a　goddess。



'Hush；　Robert！　　Don't　be　foolish；'　she　said；　quietly　and　tenderly。

'Here　is　my　aunt　coming。'



The　same　moment　he　was　at　the　piano　again；　playing　My　Bon