lay morals-第42章

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een　two　whin…bushes。　　His　　view　was　across　the　course　of　the　burn；　then　over　a　piece　of　　plain　moorland；　to　a　gap　between　two　hills；　nothing　moved　but　　grouse；　and　some　cattle　who　slowly　traversed　his　field　of　　view；　heading　northward：　he　heard　the　psalms；　and　sang　words　　of　his　own　to　the　savage　and　melancholy　music；　for　he　had　his　　own　design　in　hand；　and　terror　and　cowardice　prevailed　in　his　　bosom　alternately；　like　the　hot　and　the　cold　fit　of　an　ague。　　　Courage　was　uppermost　during　the　singing；　which　he　　accompanied　through　all　its　length　with　this　impromptu　　strain：


'And　I　will　ding　Jock　Crozer　down　No　later　than　the　day。'


Presently　the　voice　of　the　preacher　came　to　him　in　wafts；　at　　the　wind's　will；　as　by　the　opening　and　shutting　of　a　door；　　wild　spasms　of　screaming；　as　of　some　undiscerned　gigantic　　hill…bird　stirred　with　inordinate　passion；　succeeded　to　　intervals　of　silence；　and　Francie　heard　them　with　a　critical　　ear。　　'Ay；'　he　thought　at　last；　'he'll　do；　he　has　the　bit　in　　his　mou'　fairly。'

He　had　observed　that　his　friend；　or　rather　his　enemy；　Jock　　Crozer；　had　been　established　at　a　very　critical　part　of　the　　line　of　outposts；　namely；　where　the　burn　issues　by　an　abrupt　　gorge　from　the　semicircle　of　high　moors。　　If　anything　was　　calculated　to　nerve　him　to　battle　it　was　this。　　The　post　was　　important；　next　to　the　Hill…end　itself；　it　might　be　called　　the　key　to　the　position；　and　it　was　where　the　cover　was　bad；　　and　in　which　it　was　most　natural　to　place　a　child。　　It　should　　have　been　Heathercat's；　why　had　it　been　given　to　Crozer？　　An　　exquisite　fear　of　what　should　be　the　answer　passed　through　　his　marrow　every　time　he　faced　the　question。　　Was　it　possible　　that　Crozer　could　have　boasted？　that　there　were　rumours　　abroad　to　his　…　Heathercat's　…　discredit？　that　his　honour　was　　publicly　sullied？　　All　the　world　went　dark　about　him　at　the　　thought；　he　sank　without　a　struggle　into　the　midnight　pool　of　　despair；　and　every　time　he　so　sank；　he　brought　back　with　him　　…　not　drowned　heroism　indeed；　but　half…drowned　courage　by　the　　locks。　　His　heart　beat　very　slowly　as　he　deserted　his　　station；　and　began　to　crawl　towards　that　of　Crozer。　　　Something　pulled　him　back；　and　it　was　not　the　sense　of　duty；　　but　a　remembrance　of　Crozer's　build　and　hateful　readiness　of　　fist。　　Duty；　as　he　conceived　it；　pointed　him　forward　on　the　　rueful　path　that　he　was　travelling。　　Duty　bade　him　redeem　his　　name　if　he　were　able；　at　the　risk　of　broken　bones；　and　his　　bones　and　every　tooth　in　his　head　ached　by　anticipation。　　An　　awful　subsidiary　fear　whispered　him　that　if　he　were　hurt；　he　　should　disgrace　himself　by　weeping。　　He　consoled　himself；　　boy…like；　with　the　consideration　that　he　was　not　yet　　committed；　he　could　easily　steal　over　unseen　to　Crozer's　　post；　and　he　had　a　continuous　private　idea　that　he　would　very　　probably　steal　back　again。　　His　course　took　him　so　near　the　　minister　that　he　could　hear　some　of　his　words：　'What　news；　　minister；　of　Claver'se？　　He's　going　round　like　a　roaring　　rampaging　lion。　。　。　。





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