A HUMAN SOUL.
Ericson lay for several weeks, during which time Robert and Shargar were his only nurses.They contrived, by abridging both rest and labour, to give him constant attendance.Shargar went to bed early and got up early, so as to let Robert have a few hours' sleep before his classes began.Robert again slept in the evening, after Shargar came home, and made up for the time by reading while he sat by his friend.Mrs.Fyvie's attendance was in requisition only for the hours when he had to be at lectures.By the greatest economy of means, consisting of what Shargar brought in by jobbing about the quay and the coach-offices, and what Robert had from Dr.Anderson for copying his manuscript, they contrived to procure for Ericson all that he wanted.The shopping of the two boys, in their utter ignorance of such delicacies as the doctor told them to get for him, the blunders they made as to the shops at which they were to be bought, and the consultations they held, especially about the preparing of the prescribed nutriment, afforded them many an amusing retrospect in after years.For the house was so full of lodgers, that Robert begged Mrs.Fyvie to give herself no trouble in the matter.Her conscience, however, was uneasy, and she spoke to Dr.
Anderson; but he assured her that she might trust the boys.What cooking they could not manage, she undertook cheerfully, and refused to add anything to the rent on Shargar's account.
Dr.Anderson watched everything, the two boys as much as his patient.He allowed them to work on, sending only the wine that was necessary from his own cellar.The moment the supplies should begin to fail, or the boys to look troubled, he was ready to do more.
About Robert's perseverance he had no doubt: Shargar's faithfulness he wanted to prove.
Robert wrote to his grandmother to tell her that Shargar was with him, working hard.Her reply was somewhat cold and offended, but was inclosed in a parcel containing all Shargar's garments, and ended with the assurance that as long as he did well she was ready to do what she could.
Few English readers will like Mrs.Falconer; but her grandchild considered her one of the noblest women ever God made; and I, from his account, am of the same mind.Her care was fixedTo fill her odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame.
And if one must choose between the how and the what, let me have the what, come of the how what may.I know of a man so sensitive, that he shuts his ears to his sister's griefs, because it spoils his digestion to think of them.
One evening Robert was sitting by the table in Ericson's room.Dr.
Anderson had not called that day, and he did not expect to see him now, for he had never come so late.He was quite at his ease, therefore, and busy with two things at once, when the doctor opened the door and walked in.I think it is possible that he came up quietly with some design of surprising him.He found him with a stocking on one hand, a darning needle in the other, and a Greek book open before him.Taking no apparent notice of him, he walked up to the bedside, and Robert put away his work.After his interview with his patient was over, the doctor signed to him to follow him to the next room.There Shargar lay on the rug already snoring.It was a cold night in December, but he lay in his under-clothing, with a single blanket round him.
'Good training for a soldier,' said the doctor; 'and so was your work a minute ago, Robert.'
'Ay,' answered Robert, colouring a little; 'I was readin' a bit o'
the Anabasis.'
The doctor smiled a far-off sly smile.
'I think it was rather the Katabasis, if one might venture to judge from the direction of your labours.'
'Weel,' answered Robert, 'what wad ye hae me do? Wad ye hae me lat Mr.Ericson gang wi' holes i' the heels o' 's hose, whan I can mak them a' snod, an' learn my Greek at the same time? Hoots, doctor!
dinna lauch at me.I was doin' nae ill.A body may please themsel's--whiles surely, ohn sinned.'
'But it's such waste of time! Why don't you buy him new ones?'
''Deed that's easier said than dune.I hae eneuch ado wi' my siller as 'tis; an' gin it warna for you, doctor, I do not ken what wad come o' 's; for ye see I hae no richt to come upo' my grannie for ither fowk.There wad be nae en' to that.'
'But I could lend you the money to buy him some stockings.'
'An' whan wad I be able to pay ye, do ye think, doctor? In anither warl' maybe, whaur the currency micht be sae different there wad be no possibility o' reckonin' the rate o' exchange.Na, na.'
'But I will give you the money if you like.'
'Na, na.You hae dune eneuch already, an' mony thanks.Siller's no sae easy come by to be wastit, as lang's a darn 'll do.Forbye, gin ye began wi' his claes, ye wadna ken whaur to haud; for it wad jist be the new claith upo' the auld garment: ye micht as weel new cleed him at ance.'
'And why not if I choose, Mr.Falconer?'
'Speir ye that at him, an' see what ye'll get--a luik 'at wad fess a corbie (carrion crow) frae the lift (sky).I wadna hae ye try that.
Some fowk's poverty maun be han'let jist like a sair place, doctor.
He canna weel compleen o' a bit darnin'.--He canna tak that ill,'
repeated Robert, in a tone that showed he yet felt some anxiety on the subject; 'but new anes! I wadna like to be by whan he fand that oot.Maybe he micht tak them frae a wuman; but frae a man body!--na, na; I maun jist darn awa'.But I'll mak them dacent eneuch afore I hae dune wi' them.A fiddler has fingers.'
The doctor smiled a pleased smile; but when he got into his carriage, again he laughed heartily.
The evening deepened into night.Robert thought Ericson was asleep.
But he spoke.
'Who is that at the street door?' he said.
They were at the top of the house, and there was no window to the street.But Ericson's senses were preternaturally acute, as is often the case in such illnesses.
'I dinna hear onybody,' answered Robert.
'There was somebody,' returned Ericson.
>From that moment he began to be restless, and was more feverish than usual throughout the night.
