robert falconer- 第45部分

'Would　you　like　to　play　on　the　piano；　Robert？'



'Eh；　mem！'　said　Robert；　with　a　deep　suspiration。　　Then；　after　a

pause：　'But　duv　ye　think　I　cud？'



'There's　no　fear　of　that。　　Let　me　see　your　hands。'



'They're　some　black；　I　doobt；　mem；'　he　remarked；　rubbing　them　hard

upon　his　trowsers　before　he　showed　them；　'for　I　was　amaist　cawin'

oot　the　brains　o'　Dooble　Sanny　wi'　his　ain　lapstane。　　He's　an

ill…tongued　chield。　　But　eh！　mem；　ye　suld　hear　him　play　upo'　the

fiddle！　　He's　greitin'　his　een　oot　e'en　noo　for　the　bonnie　leddy。'



Not　discouraged　by　her　inspection　of　his　hands；　black　as　they　were；

Miss　St。　John　continued；



'But　what　would　your　grandmother　say？'　she　asked。



'She　maun　ken　naething　aboot　it；　mem。　　I　can…not　tell　her　a'thing。

She　wad　greit　an'　pray　awfu'；　an'　lock　me　up；　I　daursay。　　Ye　see；

she　thinks　a'　kin'　o'　music　'cep'　psalm…singin'　comes　o'　the　deevil

himsel'。　　An'　I　canna　believe　that。　　For　aye　whan　I　see　onything　by

ordinar　bonnie；　sic　like　as　the　mune　was　last　nicht；　it　aye　gars　me

greit　for　my　brunt　fiddle。'



'Well；　you　must　come　to　me　every　day　for　half…an…hour　at　least；　and

I　will　give　you　a　lesson　on　my　piano。　　But　you　can't　learn　by　that。

And　my　aunt　could　never　bear　to　hear　you　practising。　　So　I'll　tell

you　what　you　must　do。　　I　have　a　small　piano　in　my　own　room。　　Do　you

know　there　is　a　door　from　your　house　into　my　room？'



'Ay；'　said　Robert。　'That　hoose　was　my　father's　afore　your　uncle

bought　it。　　My　father　biggit　it。'



'Is　it　long　since　your　father　died？'



'I　dinna　ken。'



'Where　did　he　die？'



'I　dinna　ken。'



'Do　you　remember　it？'



'No；　mem。'



'Well；　if　you　will　come　to　my　room；　you　shall　practise　there。　　I

shall　be　down…stairs　with　my　aunt。　　But　perhaps　I　may　look　up　now

and　then；　to　see　how　you　are　getting　on。　　I　will　leave　the　door

unlocked；　so　that　you　can　come　in　when　you　like。　　If　I　don't　want

you；　I　will　lock　the　door。　　You　understand？　　You　mustn't　be　handling

things；　you　know。'



''Deed；　mem；　ye　may　lippen　（trust）　to　me。　　But　I'm　jist　feared　to

lat　ye　hear　me　lay　a　finger　upo'　the　piana；　for　it's　little　I　cud　do

wi'　my　fiddle；　an'；　for　the　piana！　　I'm　feart　I'll　jist　scunner

（disgust）　ye。'



'If　you　really　want　to　learn；　there　will　be　no　fear　of　that；'

returned　Miss　St。　John；　guessing　at　the　meaning　of　the　word　scunner。

'I　don't　think　I　am　doing　anything　wrong；'　she　added；　half　to

herself；　in　a　somewhat　doubtful　tone。



''Deed　no；　mem。　　Ye're　jist　an　angel　unawares。　　For　I　maist　think

sometimes　that　my　grannie　'll　drive　me　wud　（mad）；　for　there's

naething　to　read　but　guid　buiks；　an'　naething　to　sing　but　psalms；

an'　there's　nae　fun　aboot　the　hoose　but　Betty；　an'　puir　Shargar's

nearhan'　dementit　wi'　't。　　An'　we　maun　pray　till　her　whether　we　will

or　no。　　An'　there's　no　comfort　i'　the　place　but　plenty　to　ate；　an'

that　canna　be　guid　for　onybody。　　She　likes　flooers；　though；　an'　wad

like　me　to　gar　them　grow；　but　I　dinna　care　aboot　it：　they　tak　sic　a

time　afore　they　come　to　onything。'



Then　Miss　St。　John　inquired　about　Shargar；　and　began　to　feel　rather

differently　towards　the　old　lady　when　she　had　heard　the　story。　　But

how　she　laughed　at　the　tale；　and　how　light…hearted　Robert　went　home；

are　neither　to　be　told。



The　next　Sunday；　the　first　time　for　many　years；　Dooble　Sanny　was　at

church　with　his　wife；　though　how　much　good　he　got　by　going　would　be

a　serious　question　to　discuss。









CHAPTER　XXV。



THE　GATES　OF　PARADISE。



Robert　had　his　first　lesson　the　next　Saturday　afternoon。　　Eager　and

undismayed　by　the　presence　of　Mrs；　Forsyth；　good…natured　and

contemptuousfor　had　he　not　a　protecting　angel　by　him？he

hearkened　for　every　word　of　Miss　St。　John；　combated　every　fault；　and

undermined　every　awkwardness　with　earnest　patience。　　Nothing

delighted　Robert　so　much　as　to　give　himself　up　to　one　greater。　　His

mistress　was　thoroughly　pleased；　and　even　Mrs。　Forsyth　gave　him　two

of　her　soft　finger　tips　to　do　something　or　other　withRobert　did

not　know　what；　and　let　them　go。



About　eight　o'clock　that　same　evening；　his　heart　beating　like　a

captured　bird's；　he　crept　from　grannie's　parlour；　past　the　kitchen；

and　up　the　low　stair　to　the　mysterious　door。　　He　had　been　trying　for

an　hour　to　summon　up　courage　to　rise；　feeling　as　if　his　grandmother

must　suspect　where　he　was　going。　　Arrived　at　the　barrier；　twice　his

courage　failed　him；　twice　he　turned　and　sped　back　to　the　parlour。　　A

third　time　he　made　the　essay；　a　third　time　stood　at　the　wondrous

doorso　long　as　blank　as　a　wall　to　his　careless　eyes；　now　like　the

door　of　the　magic　Sesame　that　led　to　the　treasure…cave　of　Ali　Baba。

He　laid　his　hand　on　the　knob；　withdrew　it；　thought　he　heard　some　one

in　the　transe；　rushed　up　the　garret　stair；　and　stood　listening；

hastened　down；　and　with　a　sudden　influx　of　determination　opened　the

door；　saw　that　the　trap　was　raised；　closed　the　door　behind　him；　and

standing　with　his　head　on　the　level　of　the　floor；　gazed　into　the

paradise　of　Miss　St。　John's　room。　　To　have　one　peep　into　such　a　room

was　a　kind　of　salvation　to　the　half…starved　nature　of　the　boy。　　All

before　him　was　elegance；　richness；　mystery。　　Womanhood　radiated　from

everything。　　A　fire　blazed　in　the　chimney。　　A　rug　of　long　white　wool

lay　before　it。　　A　little　way　off　stood　the　piano。　　Ornaments

sparkled　and　shone　upon　the　dressing…table。　　The　door　of　a　wardrobe

had　swung　a　little　open；　and　discovered　the　sombre　shimmer　of　a

black　silk　dress。　　Something　gorgeously　red；　a　China　crape　shawl；

hung　glowing　beyond　it。　　He　dared　not　gaze　any　longer。　　He　had

already　been　guilty　of　an　immodesty。　　He　hastened　to　ascend；　and

seated　himself　at　the　piano。



Let　my　reader　aid　me　for　a　moment　with　his　imaginationreflecting

what　it　was　to　a　boy　like　Robert；　and　in　Robert's　misery；　to　open　a

door　in　his　own　meagre　dwelling　and　gaze　into　such　a　roomfree　to

him。　　If　he　will　aid　me　so；　then　let　him　aid　himself　by　thinking

that　the　house　of　his　own　soul　has　such　a　door　into　the　infinite

beauty；　whether　he　has　yet　found　it　or　not。



'Just　think；'　Robert　said　to　himself；　'o'　me　in　sic　a　place！　　It's　a

pailace。　　It's　a　fairy　pailace。　　And　that　angel　o'　a　leddy　bides

here；　and　sleeps　there！　　I　wonner　gin　she　ever　dreams　aboot　onything

as　bonny　's　hersel'！'



Then　his　thoughts　took　another　turn。



'I　wonner　gin　the　room　was　onything　like　this　whan　my　mamma　sleepit

in　't？　　I　cudna　hae　been　born　in　sic　a　gran'　place。　　But　my　mamma

micht　hae　weel　lien　here。'



The　face　of　the　miniature；　and　the　sad　words　written　below　the　hymn；

came　back　upon　him；　and　he　bowed　his　head　upon　his　hands。　　He　was

sitting　thus　when　Miss　St。　John　came　behind　him；　and　heard　him

murmur　the　one　word　Mamma！　　She　laid　her　hand　on　his　shoulder。　　He

started　and　rose。



'I　beg　yer　pardon；　mem。　　I　hae　no　business　to　be　here；　excep'　to

play。　　But　I　cudna　help　thinkin'　aboot　my　mother；　for　I　was　born　in

this　room；　mem。　　Will　I　gang　awa'　again？'



He　turned　towards　the　door。



'No；　no；'　said　Miss　St。　John。　'I　only　came　to　see　if　you　were　here。

I　cannot　stop　now；　but　to…morrow　you　must　tell　me　about　your

mother。　　Sit　down；　and　don't　lose　any　more　time。　　Your　grandmother

will　miss　you。　　And　then　what　would　come　of　it？'



Thus　was　this　rough　diamond　of　a　Scotch　boy；　rude　in　speech；　but

full　of　delicate　thought；　gathered　under　the　modelling　influences　of

the　finished；　refined；　tender；　sweet…tongued；　and　sweet…thoughted

Englishwoman；　who；　if　she　had　been　less　of　a　woman；　would　have　been

repelled　by　his　uncouthness；　if　she　had　been　less　of　a　lady；　would

have　mistaken　his　commonness　for　vulgarity。　　But　she　was　just；　like

the　type　of　womankind；　a　virgin…mother。　　She　saw　the　nobility　of　his

nature　through　its　homely　garments；　and　had　been；　indeed；　sent　to

carry　on　the　work　from　which　his　mother　had　been　too　early　taken

away。



'There's　jist　ae　thing　mem；　that　vexes　me　a　wee；　an'　I　dinna　ken

what　to　think　aboot　it；'　said　Robert；　as　Miss　St。　John　was　leaving

the　room。　'Maybe　ye　cud　bide　ae　minute　till　I　tell　ye。'



'Yes；　I　can。　　What　is　it？'



'I'm　nearhan'　sure　that　whan　I　lea'　the　parlour；　grannie　'ill　think

I'm　awa'　to　my　prayers；　and　sae　she'll　think　better　o'　me　nor　I

deserve。　　An'　I　canna　bide　that。'



'What　should　make　you　suppose　that　she　will　think　so？'



'Fowk　kens　what　ane　anither's　aboot；　ye　ken；　mem。'



'Then　she'll　know　you　are　not　at　your　prayers。'



'Na。　For　sometimes　I　div　gang　to　my　prayers　for　a　whilie　like；　but

nae　for　lang；　for　I'm　nae　like　ane　o'　them　'at　he　wad　care　to　hear

sayin'　a　lang　screed　o'　a　prayer　till　'im。　　I　hae　but　ae　thing　to

pray　aboot。'



'And　what's　that；　Robert？'



One　of　his　silences　had　seized　him。　　He　looked　confused；　and　turned

away。



'Never　mind；'　said　Miss　St。　John；　anxious　to　relieve　him；　and

establish　a　comfortable　relation　between　them；　'you　will　tell　me

another　time。'