'Noo, Robert, lat's hae nae mair o' this.Ye ken as weel 's I du that them 'at gangs there their doom is fixed, and noething can alter 't.An' we're not to alloo oor ain fancies to cairry 's ayont the Scripter.We hae oor ain salvation to work oot wi' fear an'
trimlin'.We hae naething to do wi' what's hidden.Luik ye till 't 'at ye win in yersel'.That's eneuch for you to min'.--Shargar, ye can gang to the kirk.Robert's to bide wi' me the nicht.'
Mrs.Falconer very rarely went to church, for she could not hear a word, and found it irksome.
When Robert and she were alone together,'Laddie,' she said, 'be ye waure o' judgin' the Almichty.What luiks to you a' wrang may be a' richt.But it's true eneuch 'at we dinna ken a'thing; an' he's no deid yet--I dinna believe 'at he is--and he'll maybe win in yet.'
Here her voice failed her.And Robert had nothing to say now.He had said all his say before.
'Pray, Robert, pray for yer father, laddie,' she resumed; 'for we hae muckle rizzon to be anxious aboot 'im.Pray while there's life an' houp.Gie the Lord no rist.Pray till 'im day an' nicht, as Idu, that he wad lead 'im to see the error o' his ways, an' turn to the Lord, wha's ready to pardon.Gin yer mother had lived, I wad hae had mair houp, I confess, for she was a braw leddy and a bonny, and that sweet-tongued! She cud hae wiled a maukin frae its lair wi' her bonnie Hielan' speech.I never likit to hear nane o' them speyk the Erse (Irish, that is, Gaelic), it was aye sae gloggie and baneless; and I cudna unnerstan' ae word o' 't.Nae mair cud yer father--hoot! yer gran'father, I mean--though his father cud speyk it weel.But to hear yer mother--mamma, as ye used to ca' her aye, efter the new fashion--to hear her speyk English, that was sweet to the ear; for the braid Scotch she kent as little o' as I do o' the Erse.It was hert's care aboot him that shortent her days.And a'
that'll be laid upo' him.He'll hae 't a' to beir an' accoont for.
Och hone! Och hone! Eh! Robert, my man, be a guid lad, an' serve the Lord wi' a' yer hert, an' sowl, an' stren'th, an' min'; for gin ye gang wrang, yer ain father 'll hae to beir naebody kens hoo muckle o' the wyte o' 't, for he's dune naething to bring ye up i'
the way ye suld gang, an' haud ye oot o' the ill gait.For the sake o' yer puir father, haud ye to the richt road.It may spare him a pang or twa i' the ill place.Eh, gin the Lord wad only tak me, and lat him gang!'
Involuntarily and unconsciously the mother's love was adopting the hope which she had denounced in her grandson.And Robert saw it, but he was never the man when I knew him to push a victory.He said nothing.Only a tear or two at the memory of the wayworn man, his recollection of whose visit I have already recorded, rolled down his cheeks.He was at such a distance from him!--such an impassable gulf yawned between them!--that was the grief! Not the gulf of death, nor the gulf that divides hell from heaven, but the gulf of abjuration by the good because of his evil ways.His grandmother, herself weeping fast and silently, with scarce altered countenance, took her neatly-folded handkerchief from her pocket, and wiped her grandson's fresh cheeks, then wiped her own withered face; and from that moment Robert knew that he loved her.
Then followed the Sabbath-evening prayer that she always offered with the boy, whichever he was, who kept her company.They knelt down together, side by side, in a certain corner of the room, the same, I doubt not, in which she knelt at her private devotions, before going to bed.There she uttered a long extempore prayer, rapid in speech, full of divinity and Scripture-phrases, but not the less earnest and simple, for it flowed from a heart of faith.Then Robert had to pray after her, loud in her ear, that she might hear him thoroughly, so that he often felt as if he were praying to her, and not to God at all.
She had begun to teach him to pray so early that the custom reached beyond the confines of his memory.At first he had had to repeat the words after her; but soon she made him construct his own utterances, now and then giving him a suggestion in the form of a petition when he seemed likely to break down, or putting a phrase into what she considered more suitable language.But all such assistance she had given up long ago.
On the present occasion, after she had ended her petitions with those for Jews and pagans, and especially for the 'Pop' o' Rom',' in whom with a rare liberality she took the kindest interest, always praying God to give him a good wife, though she knew perfectly well the marriage-creed of the priesthood, for her faith in the hearer of prayer scorned every theory but that in which she had herself been born and bred, she turned to Robert with the usual 'Noo, Robert!'
and Robert began.But after he had gone on for some time with the ordinary phrases, he turned all at once into a new track, and instead of praying in general terms for 'those that would not walk in the right way,' said,'O Lord! save my father,' and there paused.
'If it be thy will,' suggested his grandmother.
