robert falconer-第90部分

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coort　off　o'　Clare　Market。　　I　dinna　min'　upo'　the　name　o'　't；　though

I　cud　gang　till　't　wi'　my　een　steekit。　　Her　name's　Widow　Walkeran

auld　rowdiedamn　her　sowl！'



'Na；　na；　ye　maunna　say　that　gin　ye　want　to　be　forgien　yersel'。　　I'll

fin'　her　oot。　　An'　I'm　thinkin'　it　winna　be　lang　or　I　hae　a　grup　o'

her。　　I'm　gaein'　back　to　Lonnon　in　twa　days　or　three。'



'Dinna　gang　till　I'm　deid。　　Bide　an'　haud　the　deevil　aff　o'　me。　　He

has　a　grup　o'　my　hert　noo；　rivin'　at　it　wi'　his　lang　nailsas　lang

's　birds'　nebs。'



'I'll　bide　wi'　ye　till　we　see　what　can　be　dune　for　ye。　　What's　the

maitter　wi'　ye？　　I'm　a　doctor　noo。'



There　was　not　a　chair　or　box　or　stool　on　which　to　sit　down。　　He

therefore　kneeled　beside　her。　　He　felt　her　pulse；　questioned　her；

and　learned　that　she　had　long　been　suffering　from　an　internal

complaint；　which　had　within　the　last　week　grown　rapidly　worse。　　He

saw　that　there　was　no　hope　of　her　recovery；　but　while　she　lived　he

gave　himself　to　her　service　as　to　that　of　a　living　soul　capable　of

justice　and　love。　　The　night　was　more　than　warm；　but　she　had　fits　of

shivering。　　He　wrapped　his　coat　round　her；　and　wiped　from　the　poor

degraded　face　the　damps　of　suffering。　　The　woman…heart　was　alive

still；　for　she　took　the　hand　that　ministered　to　her　and　kissed　it

with　a　moan。　　When　the　morning　came　she　fell　asleep。　　He　crept　out

and　went　to　his　grandmother's；　where　he　roused　Betty；　and　asked　her

to　get　him　some　peat　and　coals。　　Finding　his　grandmother　awake；　he

told　her　all；　and　taking　the　coals　and　the　peat；　carried　them　to　the

hut；　where　he　managed；　with　some　difficulty；　to　light　a　fire　on　the

hearth；　after　which　he　sat　on　the　doorstep　till　Betty　appeared　with

two　men　carrying　a　mattress　and　some　bedding。　　The　noise　they　made

awoke　her。



'Dinna　tak　me；'　she　cried。　'I　winna　do　't　again；　an'　I'm　deein'；　I

tell　ye　I'm　deein'；　and　that'll　clear　a'　scoreso'　this　side　ony

gait；'　she　added。



They　lifted　her　upon　the　mattress；　and　made　her　more　comfortable

than　perhaps　she　had　ever　been　in　her　life。　　But　it　was　only　her

illness　that　made　her　capable　of　prizing　such　comfort。　　In　health；

the　heather　on　a　hill…side　was　far　more　to　her　taste　than　bed　and

blankets。　　She　had　a　wild；　roving；　savage　nature；　and　the　wind　was

dearer　to　her　than　house…walls。　　She　had　come　of　ancestorsand　it

was　a　poor　little　atom　of　truth　that　a　soul　bred　like　this　woman

could　have　been　born　capable　of　entertaining。　　But　she　too　was

eternaland　surely　not　to　be　fixed　for　ever　in　a　bewilderment　of

sin　and　ignorancea　wild…eyed　soul　staring　about　in　hell…fire　for

want　of　something　it　could　not　understand　and　had　never　beheldby

the　changeless　mandate　of　the　God　of　love！　　She　was　in　less　pain

than　during　the　night；　and　lay　quietly　gazing　at　the　fire。　　Things

awful　to　another　would　no　doubt　cross　her　memory　without　any

accompanying　sense　of　dismay；　tender　things　would　return　without

moving　her　heart；　but　Falconer　had　a　hold　of　her　now。　　Nothing　could

be　done　for　her　body　except　to　render　its　death　as　easy　as　might　be；

but　something　might　be　done　for　herself。　　He　made　no　attempt　to

produce　this　or　that　condition　of　mind　in　the　poor　creature。　　He

never　made　such　attempts。　'How　can　I　tell　the　next　lesson　a　soul　is

capable　of　learning？'　he　would　say。　'The　Spirit　of　God　is　the

teacher。　　My　part　is　to　tell　the　good　news。　　Let　that　work　as　it

ought；　as　it　can；　as　it　will。'　　He　knew　that　pain　is　with　some　the

only　harbinger　that　can　prepare　the　way　for　the　entrance　of

kindness：　it　is　not　understood　till　then。　　In　the　lulls　of　her　pain

he　told　her　about　the　man　Christ　Jesuswhat　he　did　for　the　poor

creatures　who　came　to　himhow　kindly　he　spoke　to　themhow　he　cured

them。　　He　told　her　how　gentle　he　was　with　the　sinning　women；　how　he

forgave　them　and　told　them　to　do　so　no　more。　　He　left　the　story

without　comment　to　work　that　faith　which　alone　can　redeem　from

selfishness　and　bring　into　contact　with　all　that　is　living　and

productive　of　life；　for　to　believe　in　him　is　to　lay　hold　of　eternal

life：　he　is　the　Lifetherefore　the　life　of　men。　　She　gave　him　but

little　encouragement：　he　did　not　need　it；　for　he　believed　in　the

Life。　But　her　outcries　were　no　longer　accompanied　with　that　fierce

and　dreadful　language　in　which　she　sought　relief　at　first。　　He　said

to　himself；　'What　matter　if　I　see　no　sign？　　I　am　doing　my　part。　　Who

can　tell；　when　the　soul　is　free　from　the　distress　of　the　body；　when

sights　and　sounds　have　vanished　from　her；　and　she　is　silent　in　the

eternal；　with　the　terrible　past　behind　her；　and　clear　to　her

consciousness；　how　the　words　I　have　spoken　to　her　may　yet　live　and

grow　in　her；　how　the　kindness　God　has　given　me　to　show　her　may　help

her　to　believe　in　the　root　of　all　kindness；　in　the　everlasting　love

of　her　Father　in　heaven？　　That　she　can　feel　at　all　is　as　sure　a　sign

of　life　as　the　adoration　of　an　ecstatic　saint。'



He　had　no　difficulty　now　in　getting　from　her　what　information　she

could　give　him　about　his　father。　　It　seemed　to　him　of　the　greatest

import；　though　it　amounted　only　to　this；　that　when　he　was　in　London；

he　used　to　lodge　at　the　house　of　an　old　Scotchwoman　of　the　name　of

Macallister；　who　lived　in　Paradise　Gardens；　somewhere　between

Bethnal　Green　and　Spitalfields。　　Whether　he　had　been　in　London

lately；　she　did　not　know；　but　if　anybody　could　tell　him　where　he

was；　it　would　be　Mrs。　Macallister。



His　heart　filled　with　gratitude　and　hope　and　the　surging　desire　for

the　renewal　of　his　London　labours。　　But　he　could　not　leave　the　dying

woman　till　she　was　beyond　the　reach　of　his　comfort：　he　was　her

keeper　now。　　And　'he　that　believeth　shall　not　make　haste。'　　Labour

without　perturbation；　readiness　without　hurry；　no　haste；　and　no

hesitation；　was　the　divine　law　of　his　activity。



Shargar's　mother　breathed　her　last　holding　his　hand。　　They　were

alone。　　He　kneeled　by　the　bed；　and　prayed　to　God；　saying；



'Father；　this　woman　is　in　thy　hands。　　Take　thou　care　of　her；　as　thou

hast　taken　care　of　her　hitherto。　　Let　the　light　go　up　in　her　soul；

that　she　may　love　and　trust　thee；　O　light；　O　gladness。　　I　thank　thee

that　thou　hast　blessed　me　with　this　ministration。　　Now　lead　me　to　my

father。　　Thine　is　the　kingdom；　and　the　power；　and　the　glory；　for

ever　and　ever。　　Amen。'



He　rose　and　went　to　his　grandmother　and　told　her　all。　　She　put　her

arms　round　his　neck；　and　kissed　him；　and　said；



'God　bless　ye；　my　bonny　lad。　　And　he　will　bless　ye。　　He　will；　he

will。　　Noo　gang　yer　wa's；　and　do　the　wark　he　gies　ye　to　do。　　Only

min'；　it's　no　you；　it's　him。'



The　next　morning；　the　sweet　winds　of　his　childhood　wooing　him　to

remain　yet　a　day　among　their　fields；　he　sat　on　the　top　of　the

Aberdeen　coach；　on　his　way　back　to　the　horrors　of　court　and　alley　in

the　terrible　London。









CHAPTER　VII。



THE　SILK…WEAVER。



When　he　arrived　he　made　it　his　first　business　to　find　'Widow

Walker。'　　She　was　evidently　one　of　the　worst　of　her　class；　and　could

it　have　been　accomplished　without　scandal；　and　without　interfering

with　the　quietness　upon　which　he　believed　that　the　true　effect　of

his　labours　in　a　large　measure　depended；　he　would　not　have　scrupled

simply　to　carry　off　the　child。　　With　much　difficulty；　for　the　woman

was　suspicious；　he　contrived　to　see　her；　and　was　at　once　reminded　of

the　child　he　had　seen　in　the　cart　on　the　occasion　of　Shargar's

recognition　of　his　mother。　　He　fancied　he　saw　in　her　some

resemblance　to　his　friend　Shargar。　　The　affair　ended　in　his　paying

the　woman　a　hundred　and　fifty　pounds　to　give　up　the　girl。　　Within

six　months　she　had　drunk　herself　to　death。　　He　took　little　Nancy

Kennedy　home　with　him；　and　gave　her　in　charge　to　his　housekeeper。

She　cried　a　good　deal　at　first；　and　wanted　to　go　back　to　Mother

Walker；　but　he　had　no　great　trouble　with　her　after　a　time。　　She

began　to　take　a　share　in　the　house…work；　and　at　length　to　wait　upon

him。　　Then　Falconer　began　to　see　that　he　must　cultivate　relations

with　other　people　in　order　to　enlarge　his　means　of　helping　the　poor。

He　nowise　abandoned　his　conviction　that　whatever　good　he　sought　to

do　or　lent　himself　to　aid　must　be　effected　entirely　by　individual

influence。　　He　had　little　faith　in　societies；　regarding　them　chiefly

as　a　wretched　substitute；　just　better　than　nothing；　for　that　help

which　the　neighbour　is　to　give　to　his　neighbour。　　Finding　how　the

unbelief　of　the　best　of　the　poor　is　occasioned　by　hopelessness　in

privation；　and　the　sufferings　of　those　dear　to　them；　he　was

confident　that　only　the　personal　communion　of　friendship　could　make

it　possible　for　them　to　believe　in　God。　Christians　must　be　in　the

world　as　He　was　in　the　world；　and　in　proportion　as　the　truth

radiated　from　them；　the　world　would　be　able　to　believe　in　Him。　Money

he　saw　to　be　worse　than　useless；　except　as　a　gracious　outcome　of

human　feelings　and　brotherly　love。　　He　always　insisted　that　the

Saviour　healed　only　those　on　whom　his　humanity　had　laid　hold；　that

he　demanded　faith　of　them　in　order　to　make　them　regard　him；　that　so

his　personal　being　might　enter　into　their　hearts。　　Healing　without

faith　in　its　source　would　have　done　them　harm　instead　of　goodwould

have　been　to　them　a　windfall；　not　a　Godsend；　at　best　the　gift　of

magic；　even　sometimes　the　power　of　Satan　casting　out　Satan。　　But　he

must　not　therefore　act　as　if　he　were　the　only　one　who　could　render

this　individual　aid；　or　as　if　men　influencing　the　poor　individually

could　not　aid　each　other　in　their　individual　labours。　　He　soon

found；　I　say；　that　there　were　things　he　could　not　do　without　help；

and　Nancy　was　his　first　perplexity。　　From　this　he　was　delivered　in　a

wonderful　way。



One　afternoon　he　was　prowling　about　Spitalfields；　where　he　had　made

many　acquaintances　amongst　the　silk…weavers　and　their　families。

Hearing　a　loud　voice　as　he　passed　down　a　stair　from　the　visit　he

had　been　paying　further　up　the　house；　he　went　into　the　room　whence

the　sound　came；　fo