robert falconer- 第86部分

till　eight　the　following　morning；　and　before　that　he　would　be　there。



It　was　a　dreary　journey　without　Ericson。　　Every　turn　of　the　road

reminded　him　of　him。　　And　Ericson　too　was　going　a　lonely　unknown

way。



Did　ever　two　go　together　upon　that　way？　　Might　not　two　die　together

and　not　lose　hold　of　each　other　all　the　time；　even　when　the　sense　of

the　clasping　hands　was　gone；　and　the　soul　had　withdrawn　itself　from

the　touch？　　Happy　they　who　prefer　the　will　of　God　to　their　own　even

in　this；　and　would；　as　the　best　friend；　have　him　near　who　can　be

nearhim　who　made　the　fourth　in　the　fiery　furnace！　　Fable　or　fact；

reader；　I　do　not　care。　　The　One　I　mean　is；　and　in　him　I　hope。



Very　weary　was　Robert　when　he　walked　into　his　grandmother's　house。



Betty　came　out　of　the　kitchen　at　the　sound　of　his　entrance。



'Is　Mr。　Ericson？'



'Na；　he's　nae　deid；'　she　answered。　'He'll　maybe　live　a　day　or　twa；

they　say。'



'Thank　God！'　said　Robert；　and　went　to　his　grandmother。



'Eh；　laddie！'　said　Mrs。　Falconer；　the　first　greetings　over；　'ane　's

ta'en　an'　anither　's　left！　but　what　for　's　mair　nor　I　can　faddom。

There's　that　fine　young　man；　Maister　Ericson；　at　deith's　door；　an'

here　am　I；　an　auld　runklet　wife；　left　to　cry　upo'　deith；　an'　he

winna　hear　me。'



'Cry　upo'　God；　grannie；　an'　no　upo'　deith；'　said　Robert；　catching　at

the　word　as　his　grandmother　herself　might　have　done。　　He　had　no　such

unfair　habit　when　I　knew　him；　and　always　spoke　to　one's　meaning；　not

one's　words。　　But　then　he　had　a　wonderful　gift　of　knowing　what　one's

meaning　was。



He　did　not　sit　down；　but；　tired　as　he　was；　went　straight　to　The

Boar's　Head。　He　met　no　one　in　the　archway；　and　walked　up　to

Ericson's　room。　　When　he　opened　the　door；　he　found　the　large　screen

on　the　other　side；　and　hearing　a　painful　cough；　lingered　behind　it；

for　he　could　not　control　his　feelings　sufficiently。　　Then　he　heard　a

voiceEricson's　voice；　but　oh；　how　changed！He　had　no　idea　that　he

ought　not　to　listen。



'Mary；'　the　voice　said；　'do　not　look　like　that。　　I　am　not　suffering。

It　is　only　my　body。　　Your　arm　round　me　makes　me　so　strong！　　Let　me

lay　my　head　on　your　shoulder。'



A　brief　pause　followed。



'But；　Eric；'　said　Mary's　voice；　'there　is　one　that　loves　you　better

than　I　do。'



'If　there　is；'　returned　Ericson；　feebly；　'he　has　sent　his　angel　to

deliver　me。'



'But　you　do　believe　in　him；　Eric？'



The　voice　expressed　anxiety　no　less　than　love。



'I　am　going　to　see。　　There　is　no　other　way。　　When　I　find　him；　I

shall　believe　in　him。　　I　shall　love　him　with　all　my　heart；　I　know。

I　love　the　thought　of　him　now。'



'But　that's　not　himself；　mydarling！'　she　said。



'No。　But　I　cannot　love　himself　till　I　find　him。　　Perhaps　there　is　no

Jesus。'



'Oh；　don't　say　that。　　I　can't　bear　to　hear　you　talk　so；'



'But；　dear　heart；　if　you're　so　sure　of　him；　do　you　think　he　would

turn　me　away　because　I　don't　do　what　I　can't　do？　　I　would　if　I　could

with　all　my　heart。　　If　I　were　to　say　I　believed　in　him；　and　then

didn't　trust　him；　I　could　understand　it。　　But　when　it's　only　that

I'm　not　sure　about　what　I　never　saw；　or　had　enough　of　proof　to

satisfy　me　of；　how　can　he　be　vexed　at　that？　　You　seem　to　me　to　do

him　great　wrong；　Mary。　Would　you　now　banish　me　for　ever；　if　I

should；　when　my　brain　is　wrapped　in　the　clouds　of　death；　forget　you

along　with　everything　else　for　a　moment？'



'No；　no；　no。　　Don't　talk　like　that；　Eric；　dear。　　There　may　be

reasons；　you　know。'



'I　know　what　they　say　well　enough。　　But　I　expect　Him；　if　there　is　a

Him；　to　be　better　even　than　you；　my　beautifuland　I　don't　know　a

fault　in　you；　but　that　you　believe　in　a　God　you　can't　trust。　　If　I

believed　in　a　God；　wouldn't　I　trust　him　just？　　And　I　do　hope　in　him。

We'll　see；　my　darling。　　When　we　meet　again　I　think　you'll　say　I　was

right。'



Robert　stood　like　one　turned　into　marble。　　Deep　called　unto　deep　in

his　soul。　　The　waves　and　the　billows　went　over　him。



Mary　St。　John　answered　not　a　word。　　I　think　she　must　have　been

conscience…stricken。　　Surely　the　Son　of　Man　saw　nearly　as　much　faith

in　Ericson　as　in　her。　　Only　she　clung　to　the　word　as　a　bond　that　the

Lord　had　given　her：　she　would　rather　have　his　bond。



Ericson　had　another　fit　of　coughing。　　Robert　heard　the　rustling　of

ministration。　　But　in　a　moment　the　dying　man　again　took　up　the　word。

He　seemed　almost　as　anxious　about　Mary's　faith　as　she　was　about

his。



'There's　Robert；'　he　said：　'I　do　believe　that　boy　would　die　for　me；

and　I　never　did　anything　to　deserve　it。　　Now　Jesus　Christ　must　be　as

good　as　Robert　at　least。　　I　think　he　must　be　a　great　deal　better；　if

he's　Jesus　Christ　at　all。　　Now　Robert　might　be　hurt　if　I　didn't

believe　in　him。　　But　I've　never　seen　Jesus　Christ。　　It's　all　in　an

old　book；　over　which　the　people　that　say　they　believe　in　it　the

most；　fight　like　dogs　and　cats。　　I　beg　your　pardon；　my　Mary；　but

they　do；　though　the　words　are　ugly。'



'Ah！　but　if　you　had　tried　it　as　I've　tried　it；　you　would　know

better；　Eric。'



'I　think　I　should；　dear。　　But　it's　too　late　now。　　I　must　just　go　and

see。　　There's　no　other　way　left。'



The　terrible　cough　came　again。　　As　soon　as　the　fit　was　over；　with　a

grand　despair　in　his　heart；　Robert　went　from　behind　the　screen。



Ericson　was　on　a　couch。　　His　head　lay　on　Mary　St。　John's　bosom。

Neither　saw　him。



'Perhaps；'　said　Ericson；　panting　with　death；　'a　kiss　in　heaven　may

be　as　good　as　being　married　on　earth；　Mary。'



She　saw　Robert　and　did　not　answer。　　Then　Eric　saw　him。　　He　smiled；

but　Mary　grew　very　pale。



Robert　came　forward；　stooped　and　kissed　Ericson's　forehead；　kneeled

and　kissed　Mary's　hand；　rose　and　went　out。



》From　that　moment　they　were　both　dead　to　him。　　Dead；　I　saynot　lost；

not　estranged；　but　deadthat　is；　awful　and　holy。　　He　wept　for　Eric。

He　did　not　weep　for　Mary　yet。　　But　he　found　a　time。



Ericson　died　two　days　after。



Here　endeth　Robert's　youth。









CHAPTER　XXV。



IN　MEMORIAM。



In　memory　of　Eric　Ericson；　I　add　a　chapter　of　sonnets　gathered　from

his　papers；　almost　desiring　that　those　only　should　read　them　who

turn　to　the　book　a　second　time。　　How　his　papers　came　into　my

possession；　will　be　explained　afterwards。



Tumultuous　rushing　o'er　the　outstretched　plains；

A　wildered　maze　of　comets　and　of　suns；

The　blood　of　changeless　God　that　ever　runs

With　quick　diastole　up　the　immortal　veins；

A　phantom　host　that　moves　and　works　in　chains；

A　monstrous　fiction　which；　collapsing；　stuns

The　mind　to　stupor　and　amaze　at　once；

A　tragedy　which　that　man　best　explains

Who　rushes　blindly　on　his　wild　career

With　trampling　hoofs　and　sound　of　mailed　war；

Who　will　not　nurse　a　life　to　win　a　tear；

But　is　extinguished　like　a　falling　star：

Such　will　at　times　this　life　appear　to　me；

Until　I　learn　to　read　more　perfectly。



HOM。　　IL。　v。　403。



If　thou　art　tempted　by　a　thought　of　ill；

Crave　not　too　soon　for　victory；　nor　deem

Thou　art　a　coward　if　thy　safety　seem

To　spring　too　little　from　a　righteous　will：

For　there　is　nightmare　on　thee；　nor　until

Thy　soul　hath　caught　the　morning's　early　gleam

Seek　thou　to　analyze　the　monstrous　dream

By　painful　introversion；　rather　fill

Thine　eye　with　forms　thou　knowest　to　be　truth：

But　see　thou　cherish　higher　hope　than　this；

A　hope　hereafter　that　thou　shalt　be　fit

Calm…eyed　to　face　distortion；　and　to　sit

Transparent　among　other　forms　of　youth

Who　own　no　impulse　save　to　God　and　bliss。



And　must　I　ever　wake；　gray　dawn；　to　know

Thee　standing　sadly　by　me　like　a　ghost？


I　am　perplexed　with　thee；　that　thou　shouldst　cost

This　Earth　another　turning：　all　aglow

Thou　shouldst　have　reached　me；　with　a　purple　show

Along　far…mountain　tops：　and　I　would　post

Over　the　breadth　of　seas　though　I　were　lost

In　the　hot　phantom…chase　for　life；　if　so

Thou　camest　ever　with　this　numbing　sense

Of　chilly　distance　and　unlovely　light；

Waking　this　gnawing　soul　anew　to　fight

With　its　perpetual　load：　I　drive　thee　hence

I　have　another　mountain…range　from　whence

Bursteh　a　sun　unutterably　bright。



GALILEO。



'And　yet　it　moves！'　　Ah；　Truth；　where　wert　thou　then；

When　all　for　thee　they　racked　each　piteous　limb？

Wert　though　in　Heaven；　and　busy　with　thy　hymn；

When　those　poor　hands　convulsed　that　held　thy　pen？

Art　thou　a　phantom　that　deceivest　men

To　their　undoing？　or　dost　thou　watch　him

Pale；　cold；　and　silent　in　his　dungeon　dim？

And　wilt　thou　ever　speak　to　him　again？

'It　moves；　it　moves！　　Alas；　my　flesh　was　weak；

That　was　a　hideous　dream！　　I'll　cry　aloud

How　the　green　bulk　wheels　sunward　day　by　day！

Ah　me！　ah　me！　perchance　my　heart　was　proud

That　I　alone　should　know　that　word　to　speak；

And　now；　sweet　Truth；　shine　upon　these；　I　pray。'



If　thou　wouldst　live　the　Truth　in　very　deed；

Thou　hast　thy　joy；　but　thou　hast　more　of　pain。

Others　will　live　in　peace；　and　thou　be　fain

To　bargain　with　despair；　and　in　thy　need