robert falconer-第102部分

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right　to　refuse　for　another　what　you　wouldn't　accept　for　yourself。

Of　course　I　could　send　in　a　man　to　do　it；　but　if　you　would　do　it；

that　would　do　her　heart　good。　　And　that's　what　most　wants　doing　good

toisn't　it；　now？'



'I　believe　you're　right　there；　sir。　　If　it　wasn't　for　the　misery　of

it；　I　shouldn't　mind　the　hunger。'



'I　should　like　to　tell　you　how　I　came　to　go　poking　my　nose　into

other　people's　affairs。　　Would　you　like　to　hear　my　story　now？'



'If　you　please；　sir。'



A　little　pallid　curiosity　seemed　to　rouse　itself　in　the　heart　of　the

hopeless　man。　　So　Falconer　began　at　once　to　tell　him　how　he　had　been

brought　up；　describing　the　country　and　their　ways　of　life；　not

excluding　his　adventures　with　Shargar；　until　he　saw　that　the　man　was

thoroughly　interested。　　Then　all　at　once；　pulling　out　his　watch；　he

said；



'But　it's　time　I　had　my　tea；　and　I　haven't　half　done　yet。　　I　am　not

fond　of　being　hungry；　like　you；　Mr。　De　Fleuri。'



The　poor　fellow　could　only　manage　a　very　dubious　smile。



'I'll　tell　you　what；'　said　Falconer；　as　if　the　thought　had　only　just

struck　him'come　home　with　me；　and　I'll　give　you　the　rest　of　it　at

my　own　place。'



'You　must　excuse　me；　sir。'



'Bless　my　soul；　the　man's　as　proud　as　Lucifer！　　He　wont　accept　a

neighbour's　invitation　to　a　cup　of　teafor　fear　it　should　put　him

under　obligations；　I　suppose。'



'It's　very　kind　of　you；　sir；　to　put　it　in　that　way；　but　I　don't

choose　to　be　taken　in。　　You　know　very　well　it's　not　as　one　equal

asks　another　you　ask　me。　　It's　charity。'



'Do　I　not　behave　to　you　as　an　equal？'



'But　you　know　that　don't　make　us　equals。'



'But　isn't　there　something　better　than　being　equals？　　Supposing；　as

you　will　have　it；　that　we're　not　equals；　can't　we　be　friends？'



'I　hope　so；　sir。'



'Do　you　think　now；　Mr。　De　Fleuri；　if　you　weren't　something　more　to

me　than　a　mere　equal；　I　would　go　telling　you　my　own　history？　　But　I

forgot：　I　have　told　you　hardly　anything　yet。　　I　have　to　tell　you　how

much　nearer　I　am　to　your　level　than　you　think。　　I　had　the　design　too

of　getting　you　to　help　me　in　the　main　object　of　my　life。　　Come；

don't　be　a　fool。　　I　want　you。'



'I　can't　leave　Katey；'　said　the　weaver；　hesitatingly。



'Miss　St。　John　is　there　still。　　I　will　ask　her　to　stop　till　you　come

back。'



Without　waiting　for　an　answer；　he　ran　up　the　stairs；　and　had

speedily　arranged　with　Miss　St。　John。　Then　taking　his　consent　for

granted；　he　hurried　De　Fleuri　away　with　him；　and　knowing　how　unfit　a

man　of　his　trade　was　for　walking；　irrespective　of　feebleness　from

want；　he　called　the　first　cab；　and　took　him　home。　　Here；　over　their

tea；　which　he　judged　the　safest　meal　for　a　stomach　unaccustomed　to

food；　he　told　him　about　his　grandmother；　and　about　Dr。　Anderson；　and

how　he　came　to　give　himself　to　the　work　he　was　at；　partly　for　its

own　sake；　partly　in　the　hope　of　finding　his　father。　　He　told　him　his

only　clue　to　finding　him；　and　that　he　had　called　on　Mrs。　Macallister

twice　every　week　for　two　years；　but　had　heard　nothing　of　him。　　De

Fleuri　listened　with　what　rose　to　great　interest　before　the　story

was　finished。　　And　one　of　its　ends　at　least　was　gained：　the　weaver

was　at　home　with　him。　　The　poor　fellow　felt　that　such　close　relation

to　an　outcast；　did　indeed　bring　Falconer　nearer　to　his　own　level。



'Do　you　want　it　kept　a　secret；　sir？'　he　asked。



'I　don't　want　it　made　a　matter　of　gossip。　　But　I　do　not　mind　how

many　respectable　people　like　yourself　know　of　it。'



He　said　this　with　a　vague　hope　of　assistance。



Before　they　parted；　the　unaccustomed　tears　had　visited　the　eyes　of

De　Fleuri；　and　he　had　consented　not　only　to　repair　Mrs。　Chisholm's

garret…floor；　but　to　take　in　hand　the　expenditure　of　a　certain　sum

weekly；　as　he　should　judge　expedient；　for　the　people　who　lived　in

that　and　the　neighbouring　housesin　no　case；　however；　except　of

sickness；　or　actual　want　of　bread　from　want　of　work。　　Thus　did

Falconer　appoint　a　sorrow…made　infidel　to　be　the　almoner　of　his

christian　charity；　knowing　well　that　the　nature　of　the　Son　of　Man

was　in　him；　and　that　to　get　him　to　do　as　the　Son　of　Man　did；　in　ever

so　small　a　degree；　was　the　readiest　means　of　bringing　his　higher

nature　to　the　birth。　　Nor　did　he　ever　repent　the　choice　he　had　made。



When　he　waited　upon　Miss　St。　John　the　next　day；　he　found　her　in　the

ordinary　dress　of　a　lady。　　She　received　him　with　perfect　confidence

and　kindness；　but　there　was　no　reference　made　to　the　past。　　She　told

him　that　she　had　belonged　to　a　sisterhood；　but　had　left　it　a　few

days　before；　believing　she　could　do　better　without　its　restrictions。



'It　was　an　act　of　cowardice；'　she　said；'wearing　the　dress

yesterday。　　I　had　got　used　to　it；　and　did　not　feel　safe　without　it；

but　I　shall　not　wear　it　any　more。'



'I　think　you　are　right；'　said　Falconer。　'The　nearer　any　friendly　act

is　associated　with　the　individual　heart；　without　intervention　of

class　or　creed；　the　more　the　humanity；　which　is　the　divinity　of　it；

will　appear。'



He　then　told　her　about　Nancy。



'I　will　keep　her　about　myself　for　a　while；'　said　Miss　St。　John；

'till　I　see　what　can　be　done　with　her。　　I　know　a　good　many　people

who　without　being　prepared；　or　perhaps　able　to　take　any　trouble；　are

yet　ready　to　do　a　kindness　when　it　is　put　in　their　way。'



'I　feel　more　and　more　that　I　ought　to　make　some　friends；'　said

Falconer；　'for　I　find　my　means　of　help　reach　but　a　little　way。　　What

had　I　better　do？　　I　suppose　I　could　get　some　introductions。I

hardly　know　how。'



'That　will　easily　be　managed。　　I　will　take　that　in　hand。　　If　you

will　accept　invitations；　you　will　soon　know　a　good　many　peopleof

all　sorts；'　she　added　with　a　smile。



About　this　time　Falconer；　having　often　felt　the　pressure　of　his

ignorance　of　legal　affairs；　and　reflected　whether　it　would　not　add

to　his　efficiency　to　rescue　himself　from　it；　began　such　a　course　of

study　as　would　fit　him　for　the　profession　of　the　law。　　Gifted　with

splendid　health；　and　if　with　a　slow　strength　of　grasping；　yet　with　a

great　power　of　holding；　he　set　himself　to　work；　and　regularly　read

for　the　bar。









CHAPTER　VIII。



MY　OWN　ACQUAINTANCE。



It　was　after　this　that　my　own　acquaintance　with　Falconer　commenced。

I　had　just　come　out　of　one　of　the　theatres　in　the　neighbourhood　of

the　Strand；　unable　to　endure　any　longer　the　dreary　combination　of

false　magnanimity　and　real　meanness；　imported　from　Paris　in　the

shape　of　a　melodrama；　for　the　delectation　of　the　London　public。　　I

had　turned　northwards；　and　was　walking　up　one　of　the　streets　near

Covent　Garden；　when　my　attention　was　attracted　to　a　woman　who　came

out　of　a　gin…shop；　carrying　a　baby。　　She　went　to　the　kennel；　and

bent　her　head　over；　ill　with　the　poisonous　stuff　she　had　been

drinking。　　And　while　the　woman　stood　in　this　degrading　posture；　the

poor；　white；　wasted　baby　was　looking　over　her　shoulder　with　the

smile　of　a　seraph；　perfectly　unconscious　of　the　hell　around　her。



'Children　will　see　things　as　God　sees　them；'　murmured　a　voice　beside

me。



I　turned　and　saw　a　tall　man　with　whose　form　I　had　already　become　a

little　familiar；　although　I　knew　nothing　of　him；　standing　almost　at

my　elbow；　with　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　woman　and　the　child；　and　a

strange　smile　of　tenderness　about　his　mouth；　as　if　he　were　blessing

the　little　creature　in　his　heart。



He　too　saw　the　wonder　of　the　show；　typical　of　so　much　in　the　world；

indeed　of　the　world　itselfthe　seemingly　vile　upholding　and

ministering　to　the　life　of　the　pure；　the　gracious；　the　fearless。

Aware　from　his　tone　more　than　from　his　pronunciation　that　he　was　a

fellow…countryman；　I　ventured　to　speak　to　him；　and　in　a

home…dialect。



'It's　a　wonnerfu'　sicht。　　It's　the　cake　o'　Ezekiel　ower　again。'



He　looked　at　me　sharply；　thought　a　moment；　and　said；



'You　were　going　my　way　when　you　stopped。　　I　will　walk　with　you；　if

you　will。'



'But　what's　to　be　done　about　it？'　　I　said。



'About　what？'　he　returned。



'About　the　child　there；'　I　answered。



'Oh！　she　is　its　mother；'　he　replied；　walking　on。



'What　difference　does　that　make？'　　I　said。



'All　the　difference　in　the　world。　　If　God　has　given　her　that　child；

what　right　have　you　or　I　to　interfere？'



'But　I　verily　believe　from　the　look　of　the　child　she　gives　it　gin。'



'God　saves　the　world　by　the　new　blood；　the　children。　　To　take　her

child　from　her；　would　be　to　do　what　you　could　to　damn　her。'



'It　doesn't　look　much　like　salvation　there。'



'You　mustn't　interfere　with　God's　thousand　years　any　more　than　his

one　day。'



'Are　you　sure　she　is　the　mother？'　　I　asked。



'Yes。　I　would　not　have　left　the　child　with　her　otherwise。'



'What　would　you　have　done　with　it？　　Got　it　into　some　orphan

asylum？or　the　Foundling　perhaps？'



'Never；'　he　answered。　'All　those　societies　are　wretched　inventions

for　escape　from　the　right　way。　　There　ought　not　to　be　an　orphan

asy