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He flew his kite no more for a while； but betook himself to the work
of the harvest…field； in which he was now able for a share。 But his
violin was no longer neglected。
Day after day passed in the delights of labour； broken for Robert by
The Arabian Nights and the violin； and for Shargar by attendance
upon Miss Lammie； till the fields lay bare of their harvest； and the
night…wind of autumn moaned everywhere over the vanished glory of
the country； and it was time to go back to school。
CHAPTER XXIII。
AN AUTO DA Fé。
The morning at length arrived when Robert and Shargar must return to
Rothieden。 A keen autumnal wind was blowing far…off feathery clouds
across a sky of pale blue； the cold freshened the spirits of the
boys； and tightened their nerves and muscles； till they were like
bow…strings。 No doubt the winter was coming； but the sun； although
his day's work was short and slack； was still as clear as ever。 So
gladsome was the world； that the boys received the day as a fresh
holiday； and strenuously forgot to…morrow。 The wind blew straight
from Rothieden； and between sun and wind a bright thought awoke in
Robert。 The dragon should not be carriedhe should fly home。
After they had said farewell； in which Shargar seemed to suffer more
than Robert； and had turned the corner of the stable； they heard the
good farmer shouting after them；
'There'll be anither hairst neist year； boys；' which wonderfully
restored their spirits。 When they reached the open road； Robert
laid his violin carefully into a broom…bush。 Then the tail was
unrolled； and the dragon ascended steady as an angel whose work is
done。 Shargar took the stick at the end of the string； and Robert
resumed his violin。 But the creature was hard to lead in such a
wind； so they made a loop on the string； and passed it round
Shargar's chest； and he tugged the dragon home。 Robert longed to
take his share in the struggle； but he could not trust his violin to
Shargar； and so had to walk beside ingloriously。 On the way they
laid their plans for the accommodation of the dragon。 But the
violin was the greater difficulty。 Robert would not hear of the
factory； for reasons best known to himself； and there were serious
objections to taking it to Dooble Sanny。 It was resolved that the
only way was to seize the right moment； and creep upstairs with it
before presenting themselves to Mrs。 Falconer。 Their intended
man？uvres with the kite would favour the concealment of this stroke。
Before they entered the town they drew in the kite a little way； and
cut off a dozen yards of the string； which Robert put in his pocket；
with a stone tied to the end。 When they reached the house； Shargar
went into the little garden and tied the string of the kite to the
paling between that and Captain Forsyth's。 Robert opened the street
door； and having turned his head on all sides like a thief； darted
with his violin up the stairs。 Having laid his treasure in one of
the presses in Shargar's garret； he went to his own； and from the
skylight threw the stone down into the captain's garden； fastening
the other end of the string to the bedstead。 Escaping as cautiously
as he had entered； he passed hurriedly into their neighbour's
garden； found the stone； and joined Shargar。 The ends were soon
united； and the kite let go。 It sunk for a moment； then； arrested
by the bedstead； towered again to its former 'pride of place；'
sailing over Rothieden； grand and unconcerned； in the wastes of air。
But the end of its tether was in Robert's garret。 And that was to
him a sense of power； a thought of glad mystery。 There was
henceforth； while the dragon flew； a relation between the desolate
little chamber； in that lowly house buried among so many more
aspiring abodes； and the unmeasured depths and spaces； the stars；
and the unknown heavens。 And in the next chamber lay the fiddle
free once more；yet another magical power whereby his spirit could
forsake the earth and mount heavenwards。
All that night； all the next day； all the next night； the dragon
flew。
Not one smile broke over the face of the old lady as she received
them。 Was it because she did not know what acts of disobedience；
what breaches of the moral law； the two children of possible
perdition might have committed while they were beyond her care； and
she must not run the risk of smiling upon iniquity？ I think it was
rather that there was no smile in her religion； which； while it
developed the power of a darkened conscience； overlaid and
half…smothered all the lovelier impulses of her grand nature。 How
could she smile？ Did not the world lie under the wrath and curse of
God？ Was not her own son in hell for ever？ Had not the blood of
the Son of God been shed for him in vain？ Had not God meant that it
should be in vain？ For by the gift of his Spirit could he not have
enabled him to accept the offered pardon？ And for anything she
knew； was not Robert going after him to the place of misery？ How
could she smile？
'Noo be dooce；' she said； the moment she had shaken hands with them；
with her cold hands； so clean and soft and smooth。 With a volcanic
heart of love； her outside was always so still and cold！snow on
the mountain sides； hot vein…coursing lava within。 For her highest
duty was submission to the will of God。 Ah！ if she had only known
the God who claimed her submission！ But there is time enough for
every heart to know him。
'Noo be dooce；' she repeated； 'an' sit doon； and tell me aboot the
fowk at Bodyfauld。 I houpe ye thankit them； or ye left； for their
muckle kindness to ye。'
The boys were silent。
'Didna ye thank them？'
'No； grannie； I dinna think 'at we did。'
'Weel； that was ill…faured o' ye。 Eh！ but the hert is deceitfu'
aboon a' thing； and desperately wicked。 Who can know it？ Come
awa'。 Come awa'。 Robert； festen the door。'
And she led them to the corner for prayer； and poured forth a
confession of sin for them and for herself； such as left little that
could have been added by her own profligate son； had he joined in
the prayer。 Either there are no degrees in guilt； or the Scotch
language was equal only to the confession of children and holy
women； and could provide no more awful words for the contrition of
the prodigal or the hypocrite。 But the words did little harm； for
Robert's mind was full of the kite and the violin； and was probably
nearer God thereby than if he had been trying to feel as wicked as
his grandmother told God that he was。 Shargar was even more
divinely employed at the time than either； for though he had not had
the manners to thank his benefactor； his heart had all the way home
been full of tender thoughts of Miss Lammie's kindness； and now；
instead of confessing sins that were not his； he was loving her over
and over； and wishing to be back with her instead of with this
awfully good woman； in whose presen