The father respected the son for whose advantage he was working like a slave from morning till night.My heart is sometimes sore with the gratitude I feel to him.Though he's been dead for thirty years--would you believe it, Robert?--well, I can't talk more about him now.I made this room as like my father's benn end as I could, and I am happier here than anywhere in the world.'
By this time Robert was perfectly at home.Before the dinner was ready he had not only told Dr.Anderson his present difficulty, but his whole story as far back as he could remember.The good man listened eagerly, gazed at the boy with more and more of interest, which deepened till his eyes glistened as he gazed, and when a ludicrous passage intervened, welcomed the laughter as an excuse for wiping them.When dinner was announced, he rose without a word and led the way to the dining-room.Robert followed, and they sat down to a meal simple enough for such a house, but which to Robert seemed a feast followed by a banquet.For after they had done eating--on the doctor's part a very meagre performance--they retired to his room again, and then Robert found the table covered with a snowy cloth, and wine and fruits arranged upon it.
It was far into the night before he rose to go home.As he passed through a thick rain of pin-point drops, he felt that although those cold granite houses, with glimmering dead face, stood like rows of sepulchres, he was in reality walking through an avenue of homes.
Wet to the skin long before he reached Mrs.Fyvie's in the auld toon, he was notwithstanding as warm as the under side of a bird's wing.For he had to sit down and write to his grandmother informing her that Dr.Anderson had employed him to copy for the printers a book of his upon the Medical Boards of India, and that as he was going to pay him for that and other work at a rate which would secure him ten shillings a week, it would be a pity to lose a year for the chance of getting a bursary next winter.
The doctor did want the manuscript copied; and he knew that the only chance of getting Mrs.Falconer's consent to Robert's receiving any assistance from him, was to make some business arrangement of the sort.He wrote to her the same night, and after mentioning the unexpected pleasure of Robert's visit, not only explained the advantage to himself of the arrangement he had proposed, but set forth the greater advantage to Robert, inasmuch as he would thus be able in some measure to keep a hold of him.He judged that although Mrs.Falconer had no great opinion of his religion, she would yet consider his influence rather on the side of good than otherwise in the case of a boy else abandoned to his own resources.
The end of it all was that his grandmother yielded, and Robert was straightway a Bejan, or Yellow-beak.
Three days had he been clothed in the red gown of the Aberdeen student, and had attended the Humanity and Greek class-rooms.On the evening of the third day he was seated at his table preparing his Virgil for the next, when he found himself growing very weary, and no wonder, for, except the walk of a few hundred yards to and from the college, he had had no open air for those three days.It was raining in a persistent November fashion, and he thought of the sea, away through the dark and the rain, tossing uneasily.Should he pay it a visit? He sat for a moment,This way and that dividing the swift mind,4when his eye fell on his violin.He had been so full of his new position and its requirements, that he had not touched it since the session opened.Now it was just what he wanted.He caught it up eagerly, and began to play.The power of the music seized upon him, and he went on playing, forgetful of everything else, till a string broke.It was all too short for further use.Regardless of the rain or the depth of darkness to be traversed before he could find a music-shop, he caught up his cap, and went to rush from the house.
His door opened immediately on the top step of the stair, without any landing.There was a door opposite, to which likewise a few steps led immediately up.The stairs from the two doors united a little below.So near were the doors that one might stride across the fork.The opposite door was open, and in it stood Eric Ericson.
