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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"

I'll sen' up yer supper. And Robert there 'll
bide and keep ye company.'
She vanished; and a moment after, Peggy appeared with a
salamander--that is a huge poker, ending not in a point, but a
red-hot ace of spades--which she thrust between the bars of the
grate, into the heart of a nest of brushwood. Presently a cheerful
fire illuminated the room.
Ericson was seated on one chair, with his feet on another, his head
sunk on his bosom, and his eyes thinking. There was something about
him almost as powerfully attractive to Robert as it had been to Miss
Letty. So he sat gazing at him, and longing for a chance of doing
something for him. He had reverence already, and some love, but he
had never felt at all as he felt towards this man. Nor was it as
the Chinese puzzlers called Scotch metaphysicians, might have
represented it--a combination of love and reverence. It was the
recognition of the eternal brotherhood between him and one nobler
than himself--hence a lovely eager worship.
Seeing Ericson look about him as if he wanted something, Robert
started to his feet.
'Is there onything ye want, Mr. Ericson?' he said, with service
standing in his eyes.
'A small bundle I think I brought up with me,' replied the youth.
It was not there. Robert rushed down-stairs, and returned with
it--a nightshirt and a hairbrush or so, tied up in a blue cotton
handkerchief. This was all that Robert was able to do for Ericson
that evening.


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