But I am not even going to describe his first tête-à-tête with his violin.Perhaps he returned from it somewhat disappointed.
Probably he found her coy， unready to acknowledge his demands on her attention.But not the less willingly did he return with her to the solitude of the ruinous factory.On every safe occasion， becoming more and more frequent as the days grew longer， he repaired thither， and every time returned more capable of drawing the coherence of melody from that matrix of sweet sounds.
At length the people about began to say that the factory was haunted； that the ghost of old Mr.Falconer， unable to repose while neglect was ruining the precious results of his industry， visited the place night after night， and solaced his disappointment by renewing on his favourite violin strains not yet forgotten by him in his grave， and remembered well by those who had been in his service， not a few of whom lived in the neighbourhood of the forsaken building.
One gusty afternoon， like the first， but late in the spring， Robert repaired as usual to this his secret haunt.He had played for some time， and now， from a sudden pause of impulse， had ceased， and begun to look around him.The only light came from two long pale cracks in the rain-clouds of the west.The wind was blowing through the broken windows， which stretched away on either hand.A dreary， windy gloom， therefore， pervaded the desolate place； and in the dusk， and their settled order， the machines looked multitudinous.
An eerie sense of discomfort came over him as he gazed， and he lifted his violin to dispel the strange unpleasant feeling that grew upon him.But at the first long stroke across the strings， an awful sound arose in the further room； a sound that made him all but drop the bow， and cling to his violin.It went on.It was the old， all but forgotten whirr of bobbins， mingled with the gentle groans of the revolving horizontal wheel， but magnified in the silence of the place， and the echoing imagination of the boy， into something preternaturally awful.Yielding for a moment to the growth of goose-skin， and the insurrection of hair， he recovered himself by a violent effort， and walked to the door that connected the two compartments.Was it more or less fearful that the jenny was not going of itself？ that the figure of an old woman sat solemnly turning and turning the hand-wheel？ Not without calling in the jury of his senses， however， would he yield to the special plea of his imagination， but went nearer， half expecting to find that the mutch， with its big flapping borders， glimmering white in the gloom across many a machine， surrounded the face of a skull.But he was soon satisfied that it was only a blind woman everybody knew--so old that she had become childish.She had heard the reports of the factory being haunted， and groping about with her half-withered brain full of them， had found the garden and the back door open， and had climbed to the first-floor by a farther stair， well known to her when she used to work that very machine.She had seated herself instinctively， according to ancient wont， and had set it in motion once more.
Yielding to an impulse of experiment， Robert began to play again.
Thereupon her disordered ideas broke out in words.And Robert soon began to feel that it could hardly be more ghastly to look upon a ghost than to be taken for one.
'Ay， ay， sir，' said the old woman， in a tone of commiseration， 'it maun be sair to bide.I dinna wonner 'at ye canna lie still.But what gars ye gang daunerin' aboot this place？ It's no yours ony langer.Ye ken whan fowk's deid， they tyne the grip (loose hold).
Ye suld gang hame to yer wife.She micht say a word to quaiet yer auld banes， for she's a douce an' a wice woman--the mistress.'
Then followed a pause.There was a horror about the old woman's voice， already half dissolved by death， in the desolate place， that almost took from Robert the power of motion.But his violin sent forth an accidental twang， and that set her going again.
'Ye was aye a douce honest gentleman yersel'， an' I dinna wonner ye canna bide it.But I wad hae thoucht glory micht hae hauden ye in.
