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had she not had her history already； and been ten years his senior；
she might have found no little attraction in the noble bearing and
handsome face of young Falconer。 The rest of his features had now
grown into complete harmony of relation with his whilom premature
and therefore portentous nose； his eyes glowed and gleamed with
humanity； and his whole countenance bore self…evident witness of
being a true face and no mask； a revelation of his individual being；
and not a mere inheritance from a fine breed of fathers and mothers。
As it was； she could admire and love him without danger of falling
in love with him； but not without fear lest he should not assume the
correlative position。 She saw no way of prevention； however；
without running a risk of worse。 She shrunk altogether from putting
on anything； she abhorred tact； and pretence was impracticable with
Mary St。 John。 She resolved that if she saw any definite ground for
uneasiness she would return to England； and leave any impression she
might have made to wear out in her absence and silence。 Things did
not seem to render this necessary yet。
Meantime the violin of the dead shoemaker blended its wails with the
rich harmonies of Mary St。 John's piano； and the soul of Robert went
forth upon the level of the sound and hovered about the beauty of
his friend。 Oftener than she approved was she drawn by Robert's
eagerness into these consorts。
But the heart of the king is in the hands of the Lord。
While Robert thus once more for a season stood behind the cherub
with the flaming sword； Ericson was teaching two stiff…necked youths
in a dreary house in the midst of one of the moors of Caithness。
One day he had a slight attack of blood…spitting； and welcomed it
as a sign from what heaven there might be beyond the grave。
He had not received the consolation of Miss St。 John without；
although unconsciously； leaving something in her mind in return。 No
human being has ever been allowed to occupy the position of a pure
benefactor。 The receiver has his turn； and becomes the giver。 From
her talk with Ericson； and even more from the influence of his sad
holy doubt； a fresh touch of the actinism of the solar truth fell
upon the living seed in her heart； and her life burst forth afresh；
began to bud in new questions that needed answers； and new prayers
that sought them。
But she never dreamed that Robert was capable of sympathy with such
thoughts and feelings： he was but a boy。 Nor in power of dealing
with truth was he at all on the same level with her； for however
poor he might have considered her theories； she had led a life
hitherto； had passed through sorrow without bitterness； had done her
duty without pride； had hoped without conceit of favour； had； as she
believed； heard the voice of God saying； 'This is the way。' Hence
she was not afraid when the mists of prejudice began to rise from
around her path； and reveal a country very different from what she
had fancied it。 She was soon able to perceive that it was far more
lovely and full of righteousness and peace than she had supposed。
But this anticipates； only I shall have less occasion to speak of
Miss St。 John by the time she has come into this purer air of the
uphill road。
Robert was happier than he ever could have expected to be in his
grandmother's house。 She treated him like an honoured guest； let
him do as he would； and go where he pleased。 Betty kept the
gable…room in the best of order for him； and； pattern of housemaids；
dusted his table without disturbing his papers。 For he began to
have papers； nor were they occupied only with the mathematics to
which he was now giving his chief attention； preparing； with the
occasional help of Mr。 Innes； for his second session。
He had fits of wandering； though； visited all the old places； spent
a week or two more than once at Bodyfauld； rode Mr。 Lammie's
half…broke filly； revelled in the glories of the summer once more；
went out to tea occasionally； or supped with the school…master； and；
except going to church on Sunday； which was a weariness to every
inch of flesh upon his bones； enjoyed everything。
CHAPTER XVIII。
A GRAVE OPENED。
One thing that troubled Robert on this his return home； was the
discovery that the surroundings of his childhood had deserted him。
There they were； as of yore； but they seemed to have nothing to say
to himno remembrance of him。 It was not that everything looked
small and narrow； it was not that the streets he saw from his new
quarters； the gable…room； were awfully still after the roar of
Aberdeen； and a passing cart seemed to shudder at the loneliness of
the noise itself made； it was that everything seemed to be conscious
only of the past and care nothing for him now。 The very chairs with
their inlaid backs had an embalmed look； and stood as in a dream。
He could pass even the walled…up door without emotion； for all the
feeling that had been gathered about the knob that admitted him to
Mary St。 John； had transferred itself to the brass bell…pull at her
street…door。
But one day； after standing for a while at the window； looking down
on the street where he had first seen the beloved form of Ericson； a
certain old mood began to revive in him。 He had been working at
quadratic equations all the morning； he had been foiled in the
attempt to find the true algebraic statement of a very tough
question involving various ratios； and； vexed with himself； he had
risen to look out； as the only available zeitvertreib。 It was one
of those rainy days of spring which it needs a hopeful mood to
distinguish from autumnal onesdull； depressing； persistent： there
might be sunshine in Mercury or Venusbut on the earth could be
none； from his right hand round by India and America to his left；
and certainly there was none betweena mood to which all sensitive
people are liable who have not yet learned by faith in the
everlasting to rule their own spirits。 Naturally enough his
thoughts turned to the place where he had suffered mosthis old
room in the garret。 Hitherto he had shrunk from visiting it； but
now he turned away from the window； went up the steep stairs； with
their one sharp corkscrew curve； pushed the door； which clung
unwillingly to the floor； and entered。 It was a nothing of a
placewith a window that looked only to heaven。 There was the
empty bedstead against the wall； where he had so often kneeled；
sending forth vain prayers to a deaf heaven！ Had they indeed been
vain prayers； and to a deaf heaven？ or had they been prayers which a
hearing God must answer not according to the haste of the praying
child； but according to the calm course of his own infinite law of
love？
Here； somehow or other； the things about him did not seem so much
absorbed in the past； notwithstanding those untroubled rows of
papers bundled in red tape。 True； they looked almost awful in their
lack of interest and their non…humanity； for there is scarcely
anything that absolutely loses interest save the records of money；
but his mother's workbox lay behind them。 And； strange to say； the
side of that bed drew him to kneel down： he did not yet believe that
prayer was in vain。 If God had not answered him before； that gave
no certainty that he would not answer him now。 It was； he found；
still as rational as it had ever been to hope that God would answer
the man that cried to him。 This came； I think； from the fact that
God had been answering him all the time； although he had not
recognized his gifts as answers。 Had he not given him Ericson； his
intercourse with whom and his familiarity with whose doubts had done
anything but quench his thirst after the higher life？ For
Ericson's； like his own； were true and good and reverent doubts； not
merely consistent with but in a great measure springing from
devoutness and aspiration。 Surely such doubts are far more precious
in the sight of God than many beliefs？
He kneeled and sent forth one cry after the Father； arose； and
turned towards the shelves； removed some of the bundles of letters；
and drew out his mother's little box。
There lay the miniature； still and open…eyed as he had left it。
There too lay the bit of paper； brown and dry； with the hymn and
the few words of sorrow written thereon。 He looked at the portrait；
but did not open the folded paper。 Then first he thought whether
there might not be something more in the box： what he had taken for
the bottom seemed to be a tray。 He lifted it by two little ears of
ribbon； and there； underneath； lay a letter addressed to his father；
in the same old…fashioned handwriting as the hymn。 It was sealed
with brown wax； full of spangles； impressed with a bush of
somethinghe could not tell whether rushes or reeds or flags。 Of
course he dared not open it。 His holy mother's words to his erring
father must be sacred even from the eyes of their son