robert falconer-第59章

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'Here　is　my　aunt　coming。'



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

Ann；　so　as　to　astonish　Miss　St。　John；　and　himself　as　well。　　Then　he

rose；　bade　her　a　hasty　good…night；　and　hurried　away。



A　strange　conflict　arose　in　his　mind　at　the　prospect　of　leaving　the

old　place；　on　every　house　of　whose　streets；　on　every　swell　of　whose

surrounding　hills　he　left　the　clinging　shadows　of　thought　and

feeling。　　A　faintly　purpled　mist　arose；　and　enwrapped　all　the　past；

changing　even　his　grayest　troubles　into　tales　of　fairyland；　and　his

deepest　griefs　into　songs　of　a　sad　music。　　Then　he　thought　of

Shargar；　and　what　was　to　become　of　him　after　he　was　gone。　　The　lad

was　paler　and　his　eyes　were　redder　than　ever；　for　he　had　been

weeping　in　secret。　　He　went　to　his　grandmother　and　begged　that

Shargar　might　accompany　him　to　Bodyfauld。



'He　maun　bide　at　hame　an'　min'　his　beuks；'　she　answered；　'for　he

winna　hae　them　that　muckle　langer。　　He　maun　be　doin'　something　for

himsel'。'



So　the　next　morning　the　boys　partedShargar　to　school；　and　Robert

to　BodyfauldShargar　left　behind　with　his　desolation；　his　sun　gone

down　in　a　west　that　was　not　even　stormy；　only　gray　and　hopeless；　and

Robert　moving　towards　an　east　which　reflected；　like　a　faint

prophecy；　the　west　behind　him　tinged　with　love；　death；　and　music；

but　mingled　the　colours　with　its　own　saffron　of　coming　dawn。



When　he　reached　Bodyfauld　he　marvelled　to　find　that　all　its　glory

had　returned。　　He　found　Miss　Lammie　busy　among　the　rich　yellow　pools

in　her　dairy；　and　went　out　into　the　garden；　now　in　the　height　of　its

summer。　　Great　cabbage　roses　hung　heavy…headed　splendours　towards

purple…black　heartseases；　and　thin…filmed　silvery　pods　of　honesty；

tall　white　lilies　mingled　with　the　blossoms　of　currant　bushes；　and

at　their　feet　the　narcissi　of　old　classic　legend　pressed　their

warm…hearted　paleness　into　the　plebeian　thicket　of　the　many…striped

gardener's　garters。　　It　was　a　lovely　type　of　a　commonwealth　indeed；

of　the　garden　and　kingdom　of　God。　His　whole　mind　was　flooded　with　a

sense　of　sunny　wealth。　　The　farmer's　neglected　garden　blossomed　into

higher　glory　in　his　soul。　　The　bloom　and　the　richness　and　the　use

were　all　there；　but　instead　of　each　flower　was　a　delicate　ethereal

sense　or　feeling　about　that　flower。　　Of　these　how　gladly　would　he

have　gathered　a　posy　to　offer　Miss　St。　John！　but；　alas！　he　was　no

poet；　or　rather　he　had　but　the　half　of　the　poet's　inheritancehe

could　see：　he　could　not　say。　　But　even　if　he　had　been　full　of　poetic

speech；　he　would　yet　have　found　that　the　half　of　his　posy　remained

ungathered；　for　although　we　have　speech　enough　now　to　be　'cousin　to

the　deed；'　as　Chaucer　says　it　must　always　be；　we　have　not　yet　enough

speech　to　cousin　the　tenth　part　of　our　feelings。　　Let　him　who　doubts

recall　one　of　his　own　vain　attempts　to　convey　that　which　made　the

oddest　of　dreams　entrancing　in　lovelinessto　convey　that　aroma　of

thought；　the　conscious　absence　of　which　made　him　a　fool　in　his　own

eyes　when　he　spoke　such　silly　words　as　alone　presented　themselves

for　the　service。　　I　can　no　more　describe　the　emotion　aroused　in　my

mind　by　a　gray　cloud　parting　over　a　gray　stone；　by　the　smell　of　a

sweetpea；　by　the　sight　of　one　of　those　long　upright　pennons　of

striped　grass　with　the　homely　name；　than　I　can　tell　what　the　glory

of　God　is　who　made　these　things。　　The　man　whose　poetry　is　like

nature　in　this；　that　it　produces　individual；　incommunicable　moods

and　conditions　of　minda　sense　of　elevated；　tender；　marvellous；　and

evanescent　existence；　must　be　a　poet　indeed。　　Every　dawn　of　such　a

feeling　is　a　light…brushed　bubble　rendering　visible　for　a　moment　the

dark　unknown　sea　of　our　being　which　lies　beyond　the　lights　of　our

consciousness；　and　is　the　stuff　and　region　of　our　eternal　growth。

But　think　what　language　must　become　before　it　will　tell

dreams！before　it　will　convey　the　delicate　shades　of　fancy　that

come　and　go　in　the　brain　of　a　child！before　it　will　let　a　man　know

wherein　one　face　differeth　from　another　face　in　glory！　　I　suspect；

however；　that　for　such　purposes　it　is　rather　music　than　articulation

that　is　needfulthat；　with　a　hope　of　these　finer　results；　the

language　must　rather　be　turned　into　music　than　logically　extended。



The　next　morning　he　awoke　at　early　dawn；　hearing　the　birds　at　his

window。　　He　rose　and　went　out。　　The　air　was　clear　and　fresh　as　a

new…made　soul。　　Bars　of　mottled　cloud　were　bent　across　the　eastern

quarter　of　the　sky；　which　lay　like　a　great　ethereal　ocean　ready　for

the　launch　of　the　ship　of　glory　that　was　now　gliding　towards　its

edge。　　Everything　was　waiting　to　conduct　him　across　the　far　horizon

to　the　south；　where　lay　the　stored…up　wonder　of　his　coming　life。

The　lark　sang　of　something　greater　than　he　could　tell；　the　wind　got

up；　whispered　at　it；　and　lay　down　to　sleep　again；　the　sun　was　at

hand　to　bathe　the　world　in　the　light　and　gladness　alone　fit　to

typify　the　radiance　of　Robert's　thoughts。　　The　clouds　that　formed

the　shore　of　the　upper　sea　were　already　burning　from　saffron　into

gold。　　A　moment　more　and　the　first　insupportable　sting　of　light

would　shoot　from　behind　the　edge　of　that　low　blue　hill；　and　the

first　day　of　his　new　life　would　be　begun。　　He　watched；　and　it　came。

The　well…spring　of　day；　fresh　and　exuberant　as　if　now　first　from

the　holy　will　of　the　Father　of　Lights；　gushed　into　the　basin　of　the

world；　and　the　world　was　more　glad　than　tongue　or　pen　can　tell。　　The

supernal　light　alone；　dawning　upon　the　human　heart；　can　exceed　the

marvel　of　such　a　sunrise。



And　shall　life　itself　be　less　beautiful　than　one　of　its　days？　　Do

not　believe　it；　young　brother。　　Men　call　the　shadow；　thrown　upon　the

universe　where　their　own　dusky　souls　come　between　it　and　the　eternal

sun；　life；　and　then　mourn　that　it　should　be　less　bright　than　the

hopes　of　their　childhood。　　Keep　thou　thy　soul　translucent；　that　thou

mayest　never　see　its　shadow；　at　least　never　abuse　thyself　with　the

philosophy　which　calls　that　shadow　life。　　Or；　rather　would　I　say；

become　thou　pure　in　heart；　and　thou　shalt　see　God；　whose　vision

alone　is　life。



Just　as　the　sun　rushed　across　the　horizon　he　heard　the　tramp　of　a

heavy　horse　in　the　yard；　passing　from　the　stable　to　the　cart　that

was　to　carry　his　trunk　to　the　turnpike　road；　three　miles　off；　where

the　coach　would　pass。　　Then　Miss　Lammie　came　and　called　him　to

breakfast；　and　there　sat　the　farmer　in　his　Sunday　suit　of　black；

already　busy。　　Robert　was　almost　too　happy　to　eat；　yet　he　had　not

swallowed　two　mouthfuls　before　the　sun　rose　unheeded；　the　lark　sang

unheeded；　and　the　roses　sparkled　with　the　dew　that　bowed　yet　lower

their　heavy　heads；　all　unheeded。　　By　the　time　they　had　finished；　Mr。

Lammie's　gig　was　at　the　door；　and　they　mounted　and　followed　the

cart。　　Not　even　the　recurring　doubt　and　fear　that　hollowness　was　at

the　heart　of　it　all；　for　that　God　could　not　mean　such　reinless

gladness；　prevented　the　truth　of　the　present　joy　from　sinking　deep

into　the　lad's　heart。　　In　his　mind　he　saw　a　boat　moored　to　a　rock；

with　no　one　on　board；　heaving　on　the　waters　of　a　rising　tide；　and

waiting　to　bear　him　out　on　the　sea　of　the　unknown。　　The　picture

arose　of　itself：　there　was　no　paradise　of　the　west　in　his

imagination；　as　in　that　of　a　boy　of　the　sixteenth　century；　to

authorize　its　appearance。　　It　rose　again　and　again；　the　dew

glittered　as　if　the　light　were　its　own；　the　sun　shone　as　he　had

never　seen　him　shine　before；　the　very　mare　that　sped　them　along　held

up　her　head　and　stepped　out　as　if　she　felt　it　the　finest　of

mornings。　　Had　she　also　a　future；　poor　old　mare？　　Might　there　not　be

a　paradise　somewhere？　and　if　in　the　furthest　star　instead　of

next…door　America；　why；　so　much　the　more　might　the　Atlantis　of　the

nineteenth　century　surpass　Manoa　the　golden　of　the　seventeenth！



The　gig　and　the　cart　reached　the　road　together。　　One　of　the　men　who

had　accompanied　the　cart　took　the　gig；　and　they　were　left　on　the

road…s