robert falconer-第71章

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looking　up　to　what　was　noble；　that　anything　directly　bad　in　the

books　she　happenedfor　it　was　all　haphazardto　read；　glided　over

her　as　a　black　cloud　may　glide　over　a　landscape；　leaving　it　sunny　as

before。



I　cannot　therefore　say；　however；　that　she　was　nothing　the　worse。　　If

the　darkening　of　the　sun　keep　the　fruits　of　the　earth　from　growing；

the　earth　is　surely　the　worse；　though　it　be　blackened　by　no　deposit

of　smoke。　　And　where　good　things　do　not　grow；　the　wild　and　possibly

noxious　will　grow　more　freely。　　There　may　be　no　harm　in　the　yellow

tanziethere　is　much　beauty　in　the　red　poppy；　but　they　are　not　good

for　food。　　The　result　in　Mysie's　case　would　be　thisnot　that　she

would　call　evil　good　and　good　evil；　but　that　she　would　take　the

beautiful　for　the　true　and　the　outer　shows　of　goodness　for　goodness

itselfnot　the　worst　result；　but　bad　enough；　and　involving　an　awful

amount　of　suffering　and　possibly　of　defilement。　　He　who　thinks　to

climb　the　hill　of　happiness　thus；　will　find　himself　floundering　in

the　blackest　bog　that　lies　at　the　foot　of　its　precipices。　　I　say　he；

not　she；　advisedly。　　All　will　acknowledge　it　of　the　woman：　it　is　as

true　of　the　man；　though　he　may　get　out　easier。　　Will　he？　　I　say；

checking　myself。　　I　doubt　it　much。　　In　the　world's　eye；　yes；　but　in

God's？　　Let　the　question　remain　unanswered。



When　he　had　eaten　his　toast；　and　drunk　his　tea；　apparently　without

any　enjoyment；　Mr。　Lindsay　rose　with　his　book　in　his　hand；　and

withdrew　to　his　study。



He　had　not　long　left　the　room　when　Mysie　was　startled　by　a　loud

knock　at　the　back　door；　which　opened　on　a　lane；　leading　along　the

top　of　the　hill。　　But　she　had　almost　forgotten　it　again；　when　the

door　of　the　room　opened；　and　a　gentleman　entered　without　any

announcementfor　Jenny　had　never　heard　of　the　custom。　　When　she　saw

him；　Mysie　started　from　her　seat；　and　stood　in　visible

embarrassment。　　The　colour　went　and　came　on　her　lovely　face；　and　her

eyelids　grew　very　heavy。　　She　had　never　seen　the　visitor　before：

whether　he　had　ever　seen　her　before；　I　cannot　certainly　say。　　She

felt　herself　trembling　in　his　presence；　while　he　advanced　with

perfect　composure。　　He　was　a　man　no　longer　young；　but　in　the　full

strength　and　show　of　manhoodthe　Baron　of　Rothie。　　Since　the　time

of　my　first　description　of　him；　he　had　grown　a　moustache；　which

improved　his　countenance　greatly；　by　concealing　his　upper　lip　with

its　tusky　curves。　　On　a　girl　like　Mysie；　with　an　imagination　so

cultivated；　and　with　no　opportunity　of　comparing　its　fancies　with

reality；　such　a　man　would　make　an　instant　impression。



'I　beg　your　pardon；　MissLindsay；　I　presume？for　intruding　upon

you　so　abruptly。　　I　expected　to　see　your　fathernot　one　of　the

graces。'



She　blushed　all　the　colour　of　her　blood　now。　　The　baron　was　quite

enough　like　the　hero　of　whom　she　had　just　been　reading　to　admit　of

her　imagination　jumbling　the　two。　　Her　book　fell。　　He　lifted　it　and

laid　it　on　the　table。　　She　could　not　speak　even　to　thank　him。　　Poor

Mysie　was　scarcely　more　than　sixteen。



'May　I　wait　here　till　your　father　is　informed　of　my　visit？'　he

asked。



Her　only　answer　was　to　drop　again　upon　her　low　stool。



Now　Jenny　had　left　it　to　Mysie　to　acquaint　her　father　with　the　fact

of　the　baron's　presence；　but　before　she　had　time　to　think　of　the

necessity　of　doing　something；　he　had　managed　to　draw　her　into

conversation。　　He　was　as　great　a　hypocrite　as　ever　walked　the　earth；

although　he　flattered　himself　that　he　was　none；　because　he　never

pretended　to　cultivate　that　which　he　despisednamely；　religion。

But　he　was　a　hypocrite　nevertheless；　for　the　falser　he　knew

himself；　the　more　honour　he　judged　it　to　persuade　women　of　his

truth。



It　is　unnecessary　to　record　the　slight；　graceful；　marrowless　talk

into　which　he　drew　Mysie；　and　by　which　he　both　bewildered　and

bewitched　her。　　But　at　length　she　rose；　admonished　by　her　inborn

divinity；　to　seek　her　father。　　As　she　passed　him；　the　baron　took　her

hand　and　kissed　it。　　She　might　well　tremble。　　Even　such　contact　was

terrible。　　Why？　　Because　there　was　no　love　in　it。　　When　the　sense　of

beauty　which　God　had　given　him　that　he　might　worship；　awoke　in　Lord

Rothie；　he　did　not　worship；　but　devoured；　that　he　might；　as　he

thought；　possess！　　The　poison　of　asps　was　under　those　lips。　　His

kiss　was　as　a　kiss　from　the　grave's　mouth；　for　his　throat　was　an

open　sepulchre。　　This　was　all　in　the　past；　reader。　　Baron　Rothie　was

a　foam…flake　of　the　court　of　the　Prince　Regent。　　There　are　no　such

men　now…a…days！　　It　is　a　shame　to　speak　of　such；　and　therefore　they

are　not！　　Decency　has　gone　so　far　to　abolish　virtue。　　Would　to　God

that　a　writer　could　be　decent　and　honest！　　St。　Paul　counted　it　a

shame　to　speak　of　some　things；　and　yet　he　did　speak　of　thembecause

those　to　whom　he　spoke　did　them。



Lord　Rothie　had；　in　five　minutes；　so　deeply　interested　Mr。　Lindsay

in　a　question　of　genealogy；　that　he　begged　his　lordship　to　call

again　in　a　few　days；　when　he　hoped　to　have　some　result　of　research

to　communicate。



One　of　the　antiquarian's　weaknesses；　cause　and　result　both　of　his

favourite　pursuits；　was　an　excessive　reverence　for　rank。　　Had　its

claims　been　founded　on　mediated　revelation；　he　could　not　have

honoured　it　more。　　Hence　when　he　communicated　to　his　daughter　the

name　of　their　visitor；　it　was　'with　bated　breath　and　whispering

humbleness；'　which　deepened　greatly　the　impression　made　upon　her　by

the　presence　and　conversation　of　the　baron。　　Mysie　was　in　danger。



Shargar　was　late　that　evening；　for　he　had　a　job　that　detained　him。

As　he　handed　over　his　money　to　Robert；　he　said；



'I　saw　Black　Geordie　the　nicht　again；　stan'in'　at　a　back　door；　an'

Jock　Mitchell；　upo'　Reid　Rorie；　haudin'　him。'



'Wha's　Jock　Mitchell？'　asked　Robert。



'My　brither　Sandy's　ill…faured　groom；'　answered　Shargar。　'Whatever

mischeef　Sandy's　up　till；　Jock　comes　in　i'　the　heid　or　tail　o'　't。'



'I　wonner　what　he's　up　till　noo。'



'Faith！　nae　guid。　　But　I　aye　like　waur　to　meet　Sandy　by　himsel'　upo'

that　reekit　deevil　o'　his。　　Man；　it's　awfu'　whan　Black　Geordie　turns

the　white　o'　's　ee；　an'　the　white　o'　's　teeth　upo'　ye。　　It's　a'　the

white　'at　there　is　about　'im。'



'Wasna　yer　brither　i'　the　airmy；　Shargar？'



'Ow；　'deed　ay。　　They　tell　me　he　was　at　Watterloo。　　He's　a　cornel；　or

something　like　that。'



'Wha　tellt　ye　a'　that？'



'My　mither　whiles；'　answered　Shargar。









CHAPTER　XI。



ROBERT'S　VOW。



Ericson　was　recovering　slowly。　　He　could　sit　up　in　bed　the　greater

part　of　the　day；　and　talk　about　getting　out　of　it。　　He　was　able　to

give　Robert　an　occasional　help　with　his　Greek；　and　to　listen　with

pleasure　to　his　violin。　　The　night…watching　grew　less　needful；　and

Ericson　would　have　dispensed　with　it　willingly；　but　Robert　would　not

yet　consent。



But　Ericson　had　seasons　of　great　depression；　during　which　he　could

not　away　with　music；　or　listen　to　the　words　of　the　New　Testament。

During　one　of　these　Robert　had　begun　to　read　a　chapter　to　him；　in

the　faint　hope　that　he　might　draw　some　comfort　from　it。



'Shut　the　book；'　he　said。　'If　it　were　the　word　of　God　to　men；　it

would　have　brought　its　own　proof　with　it。'



'Are　ye　sure　it　hasna？'　asked　Robert。



'No；'　answered　Ericson。　'But　why　should　a　fellow　that　would　give　his

lifethat's　not　much；　but　it's　all　I've　gotto　believe　in　God；　not

be　able？　　Only　I　confess　that　God　in　the　New　Testament　wouldn't

satisfy　me。　　There's　no　help。　　I　must　just　die；　and　go　and

see。She'll　be　left　without　anybody。　'What　does　it　matter？　　She

would　not　mind　a　word　I　said。　　And　the　God　they　talk　about　will　just

let　her　take　her　own　way。　　He　always　does。'



He　had　closed　his　eyes　and　forgotten　that　Robert　heard　him。　　He

opened　them　now；　and　fixed　them　on　him　with　an　expression　that

seemed　to　ask；　'Have　I　been　saying　anything　I　ought　not？'



Robert　knelt　by　the　bedside；　and　said；　slowly；　with　strongly

repressed　emotion；