'Mr.Elshender, I want to be at the boddom o' this,' said Mrs.
Falconer.
'Weel, mem, gang to the boddom o' 't,' returned Dooble Sanny, dropping on his stool, and taking his stone upon his lap and stroking it, as if it had been some quadrupedal pet.Full of rough but real politeness to women when in good humour, he lost all his manners along with his temper upon the slightest provocation, and her tone irritated him.
'Hoo cam Robert's shune to be i' your shop?'
'Somebody bude till hae brocht them, mem.In a' my expairience, and that's no sma', I never kent pair o' shune gang ohn a pair o' feet i' the wame o' them.'
'Hoots! what kin' o' gait 's that to speyk till a body? Whase feet was inside the shune?'
'De'il a bit o' me kens, mem.'
'Dinna sweir, whatever ye du.'
'De'il but I will sweir, mem; an' gin ye anger me, I'll jist sweir awfu'.'
'I'm sure I hae nae wuss to anger ye, man! Canna ye help a body to win at the boddom o' a thing ohn angert an' sworn?'
'Weel, I kenna wha brocht the shune, as I tellt ye a'ready.'
'But they wantit nae men'in'.'
'I micht hae men't them an' forgotten 't, mem.'
'Noo ye're leein'.'
'Gin ye gang on that gait, mem, I winna speyk a word o' trowth frae this moment foret.'
'Jist tell me what ye ken aboot thae shune, an' I'll no say anither word.'
'Weel, mem, I'll tell ye the trowth.The de'il brocht them in ae day in a lang taings; and says he, "Elshender, men' thae shune for puir Robby Faukner; an' dooble-sole them for the life o' ye; for that auld luckie-minnie o' his 'ill sune hae him doon oor gait, and the grun' 's het i' the noo; an' I dinna want to be ower sair upon him, for he's a fine chield, an' 'll mak a fine fiddler gin he live lang eneuch."'
Mrs.Falconer left the shop without another word, but with an awful suspicion which the last heedless words of the shoemaker had aroused in her bosom.She left him bursting with laughter over his lapstone.He caught up his fiddle and played The De'il's i' the Women lustily and with expression.But he little thought what he had done.
As soon as she reached her own room, she went straight to her bed and disinterred the bonny leddy's coffin.She was gone; and in her stead, horror of horrors! lay in the unhallowed chest that body of divinity known as Boston's Fourfold State.Vexation, anger, disappointment, and grief possessed themselves of the old woman's mind.She ranged the house like the 'questing beast' of the Round Table, but failed in finding the violin before the return of the boys.Not a word did she say all that evening, and their oppressed hearts foreboded ill.They felt that there was thunder in the clouds, a sleeping storm in the air; but how or when it would break they had no idea.
Robert came home to dinner the next day a few minutes before Shargar.As he entered his grandmother's parlour, a strange odour greeted his sense.A moment more, and he stood rooted with horror, and his hair began to rise on his head.His violin lay on its back on the fire, and a yellow tongue of flame was licking the red lips of a hole in its belly.All its strings were shrivelled up save one, which burst as he gazed.And beside, stern as a Druidess, sat his grandmother in her chair, feeding her eyes with grim satisfaction on the detestable sacrifice.At length the rigidity of Robert's whole being relaxed in an involuntary howl like that of a wild beast, and he turned and rushed from the house in a helpless agony of horror.Where he was going he knew not, only a blind instinct of modesty drove him to hide his passion from the eyes of men.
>From her window Miss St.John saw him tearing like one demented along the top walk of the captain's garden, and watched for his return.He came far sooner than she expected.
Before he arrived at the factory, Robert began to hear strange sounds in the desolate place.When he reached the upper floor, he found men with axe and hammer destroying the old woodwork, breaking the old jennies, pitching the balls of lead into baskets, and throwing the spools into crates.Was there nothing but destruction in the world? There, most horrible! his 'bonny leddy' dying of flames, and here, the temple of his refuge torn to pieces by unhallowed hands! What could it mean? Was his grandmother's vengeance here too? But he did not care.He only felt like the dove sent from the ark, that there was no rest for the sole of his foot, that there was no place to hide his head in his agony--that he was naked to the universe; and like a heartless wild thing hunted till its brain is of no more use, he turned and rushed back again upon his track.At one end was the burning idol, at the other the desecrated temple.
No sooner had he entered the captain's garden than Miss St.John met him.
'What is the matter with you, Robert?' she asked, kindly.
'Oh, mem!' gasped Robert, and burst into a very storm of weeping.
It was long before he could speak.He cowered before Miss St.John as if conscious of an unfriendly presence, and seeking to shelter himself by her tall figure from his grandmother's eyes.For who could tell but at the moment she might be gazing upon him from some window, or even from the blue vault above? There was no escaping her.She was the all-seeing eye personified--the eye of the God of the theologians of his country, always searching out the evil, and refusing to acknowledge the good.Yet so gentle and faithful was the heart of Robert, that he never thought of her as cruel.He took it for granted that somehow or other she must be right.Only what a terrible thing such righteousness was! He stood and wept before the lady.
