按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
me write this letter。 I was standing in a great crowd of people；
and I saw the empty graves about us on every side。 We were waiting
for the great white throne to appear in the clouds。 And as soon as
I knew that； I cried； 〃Andrew； Andrew！〃 for I could not help it。
And the people did not heed me； and I cried out and ran about
everywhere； looking for you。 At last I came to a great gulf。 When
I looked down into it； I could see nothing but a blue deep； like the
blue of the sky； under my feet。 It was not so wide but that I could
see across it； but it was oh！ so terribly deep。 All at once； as I
stood trembling on the very edge； I saw you on the other side；
looking towards me； and stretching out your arms as if you wanted
me。 You were old and much changed； but I knew you at once； and I
gave a cry that I thought all the universe must have heard。 You
heard me。 I could see that。 And I was in a terrible agony to get
to you。 But there was no way； for if I fell into the gulf I should
go down for ever； it was so deep。 Something made me look away； and
I saw a man coming quietly along the same side of the gulf； on the
edge； towards me。 And when he came nearer to me； I saw that he was
dressed in a gown down to his feet； and that his feet were bare and
had a hole in each of them。 So I knew who it was； Andrew。 And I
fell down and kissed his feet； and lifted up my hands； and looked
into his faceoh； such a face！ And I tried to pray。 But all I
could say was； 〃O Lord； Andrew； Andrew！〃 Then he smiled； and said；
〃Daughter； be of good cheer。 Do you want to go to him？〃 And I
said； 〃Yes； Lord。〃 Then he said； 〃And so do I。 Come。〃 And he took my
hand and led me over the edge of the precipice； and I was not
afraid； and I did not sink； but walked upon the air to go to you。
But when I got to you； it was too much to bear； and when I thought
I had you in my arms at last； I awoke； crying as I never cried
before； not even when I found that you had left me to die without
you。 Oh； Andrew； what if the dream should come true！ But if it
should not come true！ I dare not think of that； Andrew。 I couldn't
be happy in heaven without you。 It may be very wicked； but I do not
feel as if it were； and I can't help it if it is。 But； dear
husband； come to me again。 Come back； like the prodigal in the New
Testament。 God will forgive you everything。 Don't touch drink
again； my dear love。 I know it was the drink that made you do as
you did。 You could never have done it。 It was the drink that drove
you to do it。 You didn't know what you were doing。 And then you
were ashamed； and thought I would be angry； and could not bear to
come back to me。 Ah； if you were to come in at the door； as I
write； you would see whether or not I was proud to have my Andrew
again。 But I would not be nice for you to look at now。 You used to
think me prettyyou said beautifulso long ago。 But I am so thin
now； and my face so white； that I almost frighten myself when I look
in the glass。 And before you get this I shall be all gone to dust；
either knowing nothing about you； or trying to praise God； and
always forgetting where I am in my psalm； longing so for you to
come。 I am afraid I love you too much to be fit to go to heaven。
Then； perhaps； God will send me to the other place； all for love of
you； Andrew。 And I do believe I should like that better。 But I
don't think he will； if he is anything like the man I saw in my
dream。 But I am growing so faint that I can hardly write。 I never
felt like this before。 But that dream has given me strength to die；
because I hope you will come too。 Oh； my dear Andrew； do； do repent
and turn to God； and he will forgive you。 Believe in Jesus； and he
will save you； and bring me to you across the deep place。 But I
must make haste。 I can hardly see。 And I must not leave this
letter open for anybody but you to read after I am dead。 Good…bye；
Andrew。 I love you all the same。 I am； my dearest Husband； your
affectionate Wife；
'H。 FALCONER。'
Then followed the date。 It was within a week of her death。 The
letter was feebly written； every stroke seeming more feeble by the
contrasted strength of the words。 When Falconer read it afterwards；
in the midst of the emotions it arousedthe strange lovely feelings
of such a bond between him and a beautiful ghost； far away somewhere
in God's universe； who had carried him in her lost body； and nursed
him at her breastsin the midst of it all； he could not help
wondering； he told me； to find the forms and words so like what he
would have written himself。 It seemed so long ago when that faded；
discoloured paper； with the gilt edges； and the pale brown ink； and
folded in the large sheet； and sealed with the curious wax； must
have been written； and here were its words so fresh； so new！ not
withered like the rose…leaves that scented the paper from the
work…box where he had found it； but as fresh as if just shaken from
the rose…trees of the heart's garden。 It was no wonder that Andrew
Falconer should be sitting with his head in his hands when Robert
looked in on him； for he had read this letter。
When Robert saw how he sat； he withdrew； and took his violin again；
and played all the tunes of the old country he could think of；
recalling Dooble Sandy's workshop； that he might recall the music he
had learnt there。
No one who understands the bit and bridle of the association of
ideas； as it is called in the skeleton language of mental
philosophy； wherewith the Father…God holds fast the souls of his
childrento the very last that we see of them； at least； and
doubtless to endless ages beyondwill sneer at Falconer's notion of
making God's violin a ministering spirit in the process of
conversion。 There is a well…authenticated story of a convict's
having been greatly reformed for a time； by going； in one of the
colonies； into a church； where the matting along the aisle was of
the same pattern as that in the church to which he had gone when a
boywith his mother； I suppose。 It was not the matting that so far
converted him： it was not to the music of his violin that Falconer
looked for aid； but to the memories of childhood； the mysteries of
the kingdom of innocence which that could recallthose memories
which
Are yet the fountain light of all our day；
Are yet a master light of all our seeing。
For an hour he did not venture to go near him。 When he entered the
room he found him sitting in the same place； no longer weeping； but
gazing into the fire with a sad countenance； the expression of which
showed Falconer at once that the soul had come out of its cave of
obscuration； and drawn nearer to the surface of life。 He had not
seen him look so much like one 'clothed； and in his right mind；'
before。 He knew well that nothing could be built upon this； that
this very emotion did but expose him the more to the besetting sin；
that in this mood he would drink； even if he