Part 67 (2/2)

At length he received a letter from him, which occasioned his immediate departure for Aberdeen. Until now, his friend, who was entirely satisfied with his mode of life, and supplied him freely with money, had not even expressed a wish to recall him, though he had often spoken of visiting him in London. It now appeared that, unwilling to cause him any needless anxiety, he had abstained from mentioning the fact that his health had been declining. He had got suddenly worse, and Falconer hastened to obey the summons he had sent him in consequence.

With a heavy heart he walked up to the hospitable door, recalling as he ascended the steps how he had stood there a helpless youth, in want of a few pounds to save his hopes, when this friend received him and bid him G.o.d-speed on the path he desired to follow. In a moment more he was shown into the study, and was pa.s.sing through it to go to the cottage-room, when Johnston laid his hand on his arm.

'The maister's no up yet, sir,' he said, with a very solemn look. 'He's been desperate efter seein' ye, and I maun gang an' lat him ken 'at ye're here at last, for fear it suld be ower muckle for him, seein' ye a' at ance. But eh, sir!' he added, the tears gathering in his eyes, 'ye'll hardly ken 'im. He's that changed!'

Johnston left the study by the door to the cottage--Falconer had never known the doctor sleep there--and returning a moment after, invited him to enter. In the bed in the recess--the room unchanged, with its deal table, and its sanded floor--lay the form of his friend. Falconer hastened to the bedside, kneeled down, and took his hand speechless.

The doctor was silent too, but a smile overspread his countenance, and revealed his inward satisfaction. Robert's heart was full, and he could only gaze on the worn face. At length he was able to speak.

'What for didna ye sen' for me?' he said. 'Ye never tellt me ye was ailin'.'

'Because you were doing good, Robert, my boy; and I who had done so little had no right to interrupt what you were doing. I wonder if G.o.d will give me another chance. I would fain do better. I don't think I could sit singing psalms to all eternity,' he added with a smile.

'Whatever good I may do afore my turn comes, I hae you to thank for 't.

Eh, doctor, gin it hadna been for you!'

Robert's feelings overcame him. He resumed, brokenly,

'Ye gae me a man to believe in, whan my ain father had forsaken me, and my frien' was awa to G.o.d. Ye hae made me, doctor. Wi' meat an' drink an'

learnin' an' siller, an' a'thing at ance, ye hae made me.'

'Eh, Robert!' said the dying man, half rising on his elbow, 'to think what G.o.d maks us a' to ane anither! My father did ten times for me what I hae dune for you. As I lie here thinkin' I may see him afore a week's ower, I'm jist a bairn again.'

As he spoke, the polish of his speech was gone, and the social refinement of his countenance with it. The face of his ancestors, the n.o.ble, sensitive, heart-full, but rugged, bucolic, and weather-beaten through centuries of windy ploughing, hail-stormed sheep-keeping, long-paced seed-sowing, and multiform labour, surely not less honourable in the sight of the working G.o.d than the fighting of the n.o.ble, came back in the face of the dying physician. From that hour to his death he spoke the rugged dialect of his fathers.

A day or two after this, Robert again sitting by his bedside,

'I dinna ken,' he said, 'whether it's richt--but I hae nae fear o'

deith, an' yet I canna say I'm sure aboot onything. I hae seen mony a ane dee that cud hae no faith i' the Saviour; but I never saw that fear that some gude fowk wud hae ye believe maun come at the last. I wadna like to tak to ony papistry; but I never cud mak oot frae the Bible--and I read mair at it i' the jungle than maybe ye wad think--that it's a'

ower wi' a body at their deith. I never heard them bring foret ony text but ane--the maist ridiculous hash 'at ever ye heard--to justifee 't.'

'I ken the text ye mean--”As the tree falleth so it shall lie,” or something like that--'at they say King Solomon wrote, though better scholars say his tree had fa'en mony a lang year afore that text saw the licht. I dinna believe sic a thocht was i' the man's heid when he wrote it. It is as ye say--ower contemptible to ca' an argument. I'll read it to ye ance mair.'

Robert got his Bible, and read the following portion from that wonderful book, so little understood, because it is so full of wisdom--the Book of Ecclesiastes:--

'Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.

'Give a portion to seven, and also to eight; for thou knowest not what evil shall be upon the earth.

'If the clouds be full of rain, they empty themselves upon the earth: and if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be.

'He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap.

'As thou knowest not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child: even so thou knowest not the works of G.o.d who maketh all.

'In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good.'

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