Robert　Falconer
  by　George　MacDonald
  TO
  THE　MEMORY
  OF　THE　MAN　WHO
  STANDS　HIGHEST　IN　THE　ORATORY
  OF　MY　MEMORY；
  ALEXANDER　JOHN　SCOTT；
  I；　DARING；　PRESUME　TO　DEDICATE　THIS　BOOK。
  PART　I。HIS　BOYHOOD。
  CHAPTER　I。
  A　RECOLLECTION。
  Robert　Falconer；　school…boy；　aged　fourteen；　thought　he　had　never
  seen　his　father；　that　is；　thought　he　had　no　recollection　of　having
  ever　seen　him。　　But　the　moment　when　my　story　begins；　he　had　begun　to
  doubt　whether　his　belief　in　the　matter　was　correct。　　And；　as　he　went
  on　thinking；　he　became　more　and　more　assured　that　he　had　seen　his
  father　somewhere　about　six　years　before；　as　near　as　a　thoughtful　boy
  of　his　age　could　judge　of　the　lapse　of　a　period　that　would　form　half
  of　that　portion　of　his　existence　which　was　bound　into　one　by　the
  reticulations　of　memory。
  For　there　dawned　upon　his　mind　the　vision　of　one　Sunday　afternoon。
  Betty　had　gone　to　church；　and　he　was　alone　with　his　grandmother；
  reading　The　Pilgrim's　Progress　to　her；　when；　just　as　Christian
  knocked　at　the　wicket…gate；　a　tap　came　to　the　street　door；　and　he
  went　to　open　it。　　There　he　saw　a　tall；　somewhat　haggard…looking　man；
  in　a　shabby　black　coat　（the　vision　gradually　dawned　upon　him　till　it
  reached　the　minuteness　of　all　these　particulars）；　his　hat　pulled
  down　on　to　his　projecting　eyebrows；　and　his　shoes　very　dusty；　as
  with　a　long　journey　on　footit　was　a　hot　Sunday；　he　remembered
  thatwho　looked　at　him　very　strangely；　and　without　a　word　pushed
  him　aside；　and　went　straight　into　his　grandmother's　parlour；
  shutting　the　door　behind　him。　　He　followed；　not　doubting　that　the
  man　must　have　a　right　to　go　there；　but　questioning　very　much　his
  right　to　shut　him　out。　　When　he　reached　the　door；　however；　he　found
  it　bolted；　and　outside　he　had　to　stay　all　alone；　in　the　desolate
  remainder　of　the　house；　till　Betty　came　home　from　church。
  He　could　even　recall；　as　he　thought　about　it；　how　drearily　the
  afternoon　had　passed。　　First　he　had　opened　the　street　door；　and
  stood　in　it。　　There　was　nothing　alive　to　be　seen；　except　a　sparrow
  picking　up　crumbs；　and　he　would　not　stop　till　he　was　tired　of　him。
  The　Royal　Oak；　down　the　street　to　the　right；　had　not　even　a
  horseless　gig　or　cart　standing　before　it；　and　King　Charles；　grinning
  awfully　in　its　branches　on　the　signboard；　was　invisible　from　the
  distance　at　which　he　stood。　　In　at　the　other　end　of　the　empty
  street；　looked　the　distant　uplands；　whose　waving　corn　and　grass　were
  likewise　invisible；　and　beyond　them　rose　one　blue　truncated　peak　in
  the　distance；　all　of　them　wearily　at　rest　this　weary　Sabbath　day。
  However；　there　was　one　thing　than　which　this　was　better；　and　that
  was　being　at　church；　which；　to　this　boy　at　least；　was　the　very　fifth
  essence　of　dreariness。
  He　closed　the　door　and　went　into　the　kitchen。　　That　was　nearly　as
  bad。　　The　kettle　was　on　the　fire；　to　be　sure；　in　anticipation　of
  tea；　but　the　coals　under　it　were　black　on　the　top；　and　it　made　only
  faint　efforts；　after　immeasurable　intervals　of　silence；　to　break
  into　a　song；　giving　a　hum　like　that　of　a　bee　a　mile　off；　and　then
  relapsing　into　hopeless　inactivity。　　Having　just　had　his　dinner；　he
  was　not　hungry　enough　to　find　any　resource　in　the　drawer　where　the
  oatcakes　lay；　and；　unfortunately；　the　old　wooden　clock　in　the　corner
  was　going；　else　there　would　have　been　some　amusement　in　trying　to
  torment　it　into　demonstrations　of　life；　as　he　had　often　done　in　less
  desperate　circumstances　than　the　present。　　At　last　he　went　up…stairs
  to　the　very　room　in　which　he　now　was；　and　sat　down　upon　the　floor；
  just　as　he　was　sitting　now。　　He　had　not　even　brought　his　Pilgrim's
  Progress　with　him　from　his　grandmother's　room。　　But；　searching　about
  in　all　holes　and　corners；　he　at　length　found　Klopstock's　Messiah
  translated　into　English；　and　took　refuge　there　till　Betty　came　home。
  Nor　did　he　go　down　till　she　called　him　to　tea；　when；　expecting　to
  join　his　grandmother　and　the　stranger；　he　found；　on　the　contrary；
  that　he　was　to　have　his　tea　with　Betty　in　the　kitchen；　after　which
  he　again　took　refuge　with　Klopstock　in　the　garret；　and　remained
  there　till　it　grew　dark；　when　Betty　came　in　search　of　him；　and　put
  him　to　bed　in　the　gable…room；　and　not　in　his　usual　chamber。　　In　the
  morning；　every　trace　of　the　visitor　had　vanished；　even　to　the　thorn
  stick　which　he　had　set　down　behind　the　door　as　he　entered。
  All　this　Robert　Falconer　saw　slowly　revive　on　the　palimpsest　of　his
  memory；　as　he　washed　it　with　the　vivifying　waters　of　recollection。
  CHAPTER　II。
  A　VISITOR。
  It　was　a　very　bare　little　room　in　which　the　boy　sat；　but　it　was　his
  favourite　retreat。　　Behind　the　door；　in　a　recess；　stood　an　empty
  bedstead；　without　even　a　mattress　upon　it。　　This　was　the　only　piece
  of　furniture　in　the　room；　unless　some　shelves　crowded　with　papers
  tied　up　in　bundles；　and　a　cupboard　in　the　wall；　likewise　filled　with
  papers；　could　be　called　furniture。　　There　was　no　carpet　on　the
  floor；　no　windows　in　the　walls。　　The　only　light　came　from　the　door；
  and　from　a　small　skylight　in　the　sloping　roof；　which　showed　that　it
  was　a　garret…room。　　Nor　did　much　light　come　from　the　open　door；　for
  there　was　no　window　on　the　walled　stair　to　which　it　opened；　only
  opposite　the　door　a　few　steps　led　up　into　another　garret；　larger；
  but　with　a　lower　roof；　unceiled；　and　perforated　with　two　or　three
  holes；　the　panes　of　glass　filling　which　were　no　larger　than　the
  small　blue　slates　which　covered　the　roof：　from　these　panes　a　little
  dim　brown　light　tumbled　into　the　room　where　the　boy　sat　on　the
  floor；　with　his　head　almost　between　his　knees；　thinking。
  But　there　was　less　light　than　usual　in　the　room　now；　though　it　was
  only　half…past　two　o'clock；　and　the　sun　would　not　set　for　more　than
  half…an…hour　yet；　for　if　Robert　had　lifted　his　head　and　looked　up；
  it　would　have　been　at；　not　through；　the　skylight。　　No　sky　was　to　be
  seen。　　A　thick　covering　of　snow　lay　over　the　glass。　　A　partial　thaw；
  followed　by　frost；　had　fixed　it　therea　mass　of　imperfect　cells　and
  confused　crystals。　　It　was　a　cold　place　to　sit　in；　but　the　boy　had
  some　faculty　for　enduring　cold　when　it　was　the　price　to　be　paid　for
  solitude。　　And　besides；　when　he　fell　into　one　of　his　thinking　moods；
  he　forgot；　for　a　season；　cold　and　everything　else　but　what　he　was
  thinking　abouta　faculty　for　which　he　was　to　be　envied。
  If　he　had　gone　down　the　stair；　which　described　half　the　turn　of　a
  screw　in　its　descent；　and　had　crossed　the　landing　to　which　it
  brought　him；　he　could　have　entered　another　bedroom；　called　the　gable
  or　rather　ga'le　room；　equally　at　his　service　for　retirement；　but；
  though　carpeted　and　comfortably　furnished；　and　having　two　windows　at
  right　angles；　commanding　two　streets；　for　it　was　a　corner　house；　the
  boy　preferred　the　garret…roomhe　could　not　tell　why。　　Possibly；
  windows　to　the　streets　were　not　congenial　to　the　meditations　in
  which；　even　now；　as　I　have　said；　the　boy　indulged。
  These　meditations；　however；　though　sometimes　as　abstruse；　if　not　so
  continuous；　as　those　of　a　metaphysicianfor　boys　are　not
  unfrequently　more　given　to　metaphysics　than　older　people　are　able
  or；　perhaps；　willing　to　believewere　not　by　any　means　confined　to
  such　subjects：　castle…building　had　its　full　share　in　the　occupation
  of　those　lonely　hours；　and　for　this　exercise　of　the　constructive
  faculty；　what　he　knew；　or　rather　what　he　did　not　know；　of　his　own
  history　gave　him　scope　enough；　nor　was　his　brain　slow　in　supplying
  him　with　material　corresponding　in　quantity　to　the　space　afforded。
  His　mother　had　been　dead　for　so　many　years　that　he　had　only　the
  vaguest　recollections　of　her　tenderness；　and　none　of　her　person。
  All　he　was　told　of　his　father　was　that　he　had　gone　abroad。　　His
  grandmother　would　never　talk　about　him；　although　he　was　her　own　son。
  When　the　boy　ventured　to　ask　a　question　about　where　he　was；　or　when
  he　would　return；　she　always　replied'Bairns　suld　haud　their
  tongues。'　　Nor　would　she　vouchsafe　another　answer　to　any　question
  that　seemed　to　her　from　the　farthest　distance　to　bear　down　upon　that
  subject。　'Bairns　maun　learn　to　haud　their　tongues；'　was　the　sole
  variation　of　which　the　response　admitted。　　And　the　boy　did　learn　to
  hold　his　tongue。　　Perhaps　he　would　have　thought　less　about　his
  father　if　he　had　had　brothers　or　sisters；　or　even　if　the　nature　of
  his　grandmother　had　been　such　as　to　admit　of　their　relationship
  being　drawn　closerinto　personal　confidence；　or　some　measure　of
  familiarity。　　How　they　stood　with　regard　to　each　other　will　soon
  appear。
  Whether　the　visions　vanished　from　his　brain　because　of　the
  thickening　of　his　blood　with　cold；　or　he　merely　acted　from　one　of
  those　undefined　and　inexplicable　impulses　which　occasion　not　a　few
  of　our　actions；　I　cannot　tell；　but　all　at　once　Robert　started　to　his
  feet　and　hurried　from　the　room。　　At　the　foot　of　the　garret　stair；
  between　it　and　th