Listening through the
melody for sounds of a far different kind, Robert was aware that
those sounds had ceased; the growling was still; he heard no more
turnings to and fro. How it was operating he could not tell,
further than that there must be some measure of soothing in its
influence. He ceased quite, and listened again. For a few moments
there was no sound. Then he heard the half-articulate murmuring of
one whose organs have been all but overcome by the beneficent
paralysis of sleep, but whose feeble will would compel them to
utterance. He was nearly asleep again. Was it a fact, or a fancy
of Robert's eager heart? Did the man really say,
'Play that again, father. It's bonnie, that! I aye likit the
Flooers o' the Forest. Play awa'. I hae had a frichtsome dream. I
thocht I was i' the ill place. I doobt I'm no weel. But yer fiddle
aye did me gude. Play awa', father!'
All the night through, till the dawn of the gray morning, Falconer
watched the sleeping man, all but certain that he was indeed his
father. Eternities of thought passed through his mind as he
watched--this time by the couch, as he hoped, of a new birth. He
was about to see what could be done by one man, strengthened by all
the aids that love and devotion could give, for the redemption of
his fellow. As through the darkness of the night and a sluggish fog
to aid it, the light of a pure heaven made its slow irresistible
way, his hope grew that athwart the fog of an evil life, the
darkness that might be felt, the light of the Spirit of God would
yet penetrate the heart of the sinner, and shake the wickedness out
of it.
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