robert falconer- 第47部分

live　for　ever；　were　set　upon　that　which　had　passed　away。　　But　the

child　that　weeps　because　his　mutilated　doll　will　not　rise　from　the

dead；　shall　yet　find　relief　from　his　sorrow；　a　true　relief；　both

human　and　divine。　　He　shall　know　that　that　which　in　the　doll　made

him　love　the　doll；　has　not　passed　away。　　And　Robert　must　yet　be

comforted　for　the　loss　of　his　bonny　leddy。　　If　she　had　had　a　soul；

nothing　but　her　own　self　could　ever　satisfy　him。　　As　she　had　no

soul；　another　body　might　take　her　place；　nor　occasion　reproach　of

inconstancy。



But；　in　the　meantime；　the　shears　of　Fate　having　cut　the　string　of

the　sky…soaring　kite　of　his　imagination；　had　left　him　with　the　stick

in　his　hand。　　And　thus　the　rest　of　that　winter　was　dreary　enough。

The　glow　was　out　of　his　heart；　the　glow　was　out　of　the　world。　　The

bleak；　kindless　wind　was　hissing　through　those　pines　that　clothed

the　hill　above　Bodyfauld；　and　over　the　dead　garden；　where　in　the

summer　time　the　rose　had　looked　down　so　lovingly　on　the　heartsease。

If　he　had　stood　once　more　at　gloaming　in　that　barley…stubble；　not

even　the　wail　of　Flodden…field　would　have　found　him　there；　but　a

keen　sense　of　personal　misery　and　hopeless　cold。　　Was　the　summer　a

lie？



Not　so。　　The　winter　restrains；　that　the　summer　may　have　the　needful

time　to　do　its　work　well；　for　the　winter　is　but　the　sleep　of　summer。



Now　in　the　winter　of　his　discontent；　and　in　Nature　finding　no　help；

Robert　was　driven　inwardsinto　his　garret；　into　his　soul。　　There；

the　door　of　his　paradise　being　walled　up；　he　began；　vaguely；

blindly；　to　knock　against　other　doorssometimes　against　stone…walls

and　rocks；　taking　them　for　doorsas　travel…worn；　and　hence

brain…sick　men　have　done　in　a　desert　of　mountains。　　A　door；　out　or

in；　he　must　find；　or　perish。



It　fell；　too；　that　Miss　St。　John　went　to　visit　some　friends　who

lived　in　a　coast　town　twenty　miles　off；　and　a　season　of　heavy　snow

followed　by　frost　setting　in；　she　was　absent　for　six　weeks；　during

which　time；　without　a　single　care　to　trouble　him　from　without；

Robert　was　in　the　very　desert　of　desolation。　　His　spirits　sank

fearfully。　　He　would　pass　his　old　music…master　in　the　street　with

scarce　a　recognition；　as　if　the　bond　of　their　relation　had　been

utterly　broken；　had　vanished　in　the　smoke　of　the　martyred　violin；

and　all　their　affection　had　gone　into　the　dust…heap　of　the　past。



Dooble　Sanny's　character　did　not　improve。　　He　took　more　and　more

whisky；　his　bouts　of　drinking　alternating　as　before　with　fits　of

hopeless　repentance。　　His　work　was　more　neglected　than　ever；　and　his

wife　having　no　money　to　spend　even　upon　necessaries；　applied　in

desperation　to　her　husband's　bottle　for　comfort。　　This　comfort；　to

do　him　justice；　he　never　grudged　her；　and　sometimes　before　midday

they　would　both　be　drunka　condition　expedited　by　the　lack　of　food。

When　they　began　to　recover；　they　would　quarrel　fiercely；　and　at

last　they　became　a　nuisance　to　the　whole　street。　　Little　did　the

whisky…hating　old　lady　know　to　what　god　she　had　really　offered　up

that　violinif　the　consequences　of　the　holocaust　can　be　admitted　as

indicating　the　power　which　had　accepted　it。



But　now　began　to　appear　in　Robert　the　first　signs　of　a　practical

outcome　of　such　truth　as　his　grandmother　had　taught　him；　operating

upon　the　necessities　of　a　simple　and　earnest　nature。　　Reality；

however　lapt　in　vanity；　or　even　in　falsehood；　cannot　lose　its　power。

It　isthe　other　is　not。　　She　had　taught　him　to　look　upthat　there

was　a　God。　He　would　put　it　to　the　test。　　Not　that　he　doubted　it　yet：

he　only　doubted　whether　there　was　a　hearing　God。　But　was　not　that

worse？　　It　was；　I　think。　　For　it　is　of　far　more　consequence　what

kind　of　a　God；　than　whether　a　God　or　no。　　Let　not　my　reader　suppose

I　think　it　possible　there　could　be　other　than　a　perfect

Godperfecteven　to　the　vision　of　his　creatures；　the　faith　that

supplies　the　lack　of　vision　being　yet　faithful　to　that　vision。　　I

speak　from　Robert's　point　of　outlook。　　But；　indeed；　whether　better

or　worse　is　no　great　matter；　so　long　as　he　would　see　it　or　what

there　was。　　He　had　no　comfort；　and；　without　reasoning　about　it；　he

felt　that　life　ought　to　have　comfortfrom　which　point　he　began　to

conclude　that　the　only　thing　left　was　to　try　whether　the　God　in　whom

his　grandmother　believed　might　not　help　him。　　If　the　God　would　but

hear　him；　it　was　all　he　had　yet　learned　to　require　of　his　Godhood。

And　that　must　ever　be　the　first　thing　to　require。　　More　demands

would　come；　and　greater　answers　he　would　find。　　But　nowif　God

would　but　hear　him！　　If　he　spoke　to　him　but　one　kind　word；　it　would

be　the　very　soul　of　comfort；　he　could　no　more　be　lonely。　　A　fountain

of　glad　imaginations　gushed　up　in　his　heart　at　the　thought。　　What

if；　from　the　cold　winter　of　his　life；　he　had　but　to　open　the　door　of

his　garret…room；　and；　kneeling　by　the　bare　bedstead；　enter　into　the

summer　of　God's　presence！　　What　if　God　spoke　to　him　face　to　face！

He　had　so　spoken　to　Moses。　　He　sought　him　from　no　fear　of　the

future；　but　from　present　desolation；　and　if　God　came　near　to　him；　it

would　not　be　with　storm　and　tempest；　but　with　the　voice　of　a　friend。

And　surely；　if　there　was　a　God　at　all；　that　is；　not　a　power　greater

than　man；　but　a　power　by　whose　power　man　was；　he　must　hear　the　voice

of　the　creature　whom　he　had　made；　a　voice　that　came　crying　out　of

the　very　need　which　he　had　created。　　Younger　people　than　Robert　are

capable　of　such　divine　metaphysics。　　Hence　he　continued　to　disappear

from　his　grandmother's　parlour　at　much　the　same　hour　as　before。　　In

the　cold；　desolate　garret；　he　knelt　and　cried　out　into　that　which

lay　beyond　the　thought　that　cried；　the　unknowable　infinite；　after

the　God　that　may　be　known　as　surely　as　a　little　child　knows　his

mysterious　mother。　　And　from　behind　him；　the　pale…blue；　star…crowded

sky　shone　upon　his　head；　through　the　window　that　looked　upwards

only。



Mrs。　Falconer　saw　that　he　still　went　away　as　he　had　been　wont；　and

instituted　observations；　the　result　of　which　was　the　knowledge　that

he　went　to　his　own　room。　　Her　heart　smote　her；　and　she　saw　that　the

boy　looked　sad　and　troubled。　　There　was　scarce　room　in　her　heart　for

increase　of　love；　but　much　for　increase　of　kindness；　and　she　did

increase　it。　　In　truth；　he　needed　the　smallest　crumb　of　comfort　that

might　drop　from　the　table　of　God's　'feastful　friends。'



Night　after　night　he　returned　to　the　parlour　cold　to　the　very　heart。

God　was　not　to　be　found；　he　said　then。　　He　said　afterwards　that

even　then　'God　was　with　him　though　he　knew　it　not。'



For　the　very　first　night；　the　moment　that　he　knelt　and　cried；　'O

Father　in　heaven；　hear　me；　and　let　thy　face　shine　upon　me'like　a

flash　of　burning　fire　the　words　shot　from　the　door　of　his　heart：　'I

dinna　care　for　him　to　love　me；　gin　he　doesna　love　ilka　body；'　and　no

more　prayer　went　from　the　desolate　boy　that　night；　although　he　knelt

an　hour　of　agony　in　the　freezing　dark。　　Loyal　to　what　he　had　been

taught；　he　struggled　hard　to　reduce　his　rebellious　will　to　what　he

supposed　to　be　the　will　of　God。　It　was　all　in　vain。　　Ever　a　voice

within　himsurely　the　voice　of　that　God　who　he　thought　was　not

hearingtold　him　that　what　he　wanted　was　the　love　belonging　to　his

human　nature；　his　human　needsnot　the　preference　of　a

court…favourite。　　He　had　a　dim　consciousness　that　he　would　be　a

traitor　to　his　race　if　he　accepted　a　love；　even　from　God；　given　him

as　an　exception　from　his　kind。　　But　he　did　not　care　to　have　such　a

love。　　It　was　not　what　his　heart　yearned　for。　　It　was　not　love。　　He

could　not　love　such　a　love。　　Yet　he　strove　against　it　allfought

for　religion　against　right　as　he　could；　struggled　to　reduce　his

rebellious　feelings；　to　love　that　which　was　unlovely；　to　choose　that

which　was　abhorrent；　until　nature　almost　gave　way　under　the　effort。

Often　would　he　sink　moaning　on　the　floor；　or　stretch　himself　like　a

corpse；　save　that　it　was　face　downwards；　on　the　boards　of　the

bedstead。　　Night　after　night　he　returned　to　the　battle；　but　with　no

permanent　success。　　What　a　success　that　would　have　been！　　Night

after　night　he　came　pale　and　worn　from　the　conflict；　found　his

grandmother　and　Shargar　composed；　and　in　the　quietness　of　despair

sat　down　beside　them　to　his　Latin　version。



He　little　thought；　that　every　night；　at　the　moment　when　he　stirred

to　leave　the　upper　room；　a　pale…faced；　red…eyed　figure　rose　from　its

seat　on　the　top　of　the　stair　by　the　door；　and　sped　with　long…legged

noiselessness　to　resume　its　seat　by　the　grandmother　before　he　should

enter。　　Shargar　saw　that　Robert　was　unhappy；　and　the　nearest　he

could　come　to　the　sharing　of　his　unhappiness　was　to　take　his　place

outside　the　door　within　which　he　had　retreated。　　Little；　too；　did

Shargar；　on　his　part；　think　that　Robert；　without　knowing　it；　was

pleading　for　him　insidepleading　for　him　and　for　all　his　race　in

the　weeping　that　would　not　be　comforted。



Robert　had　not　the　vaguest　fancy　that　God　was　with　hi