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'Would you like to play on the piano； Robert？'
'Eh； mem！' said Robert； with a deep suspiration。 Then； after a
pause： 'But duv ye think I cud？'
'There's no fear of that。 Let me see your hands。'
'They're some black； I doobt； mem；' he remarked； rubbing them hard
upon his trowsers before he showed them； 'for I was amaist cawin'
oot the brains o' Dooble Sanny wi' his ain lapstane。 He's an
ill…tongued chield。 But eh！ mem； ye suld hear him play upo' the
fiddle！ He's greitin' his een oot e'en noo for the bonnie leddy。'
Not discouraged by her inspection of his hands； black as they were；
Miss St。 John continued；
'But what would your grandmother say？' she asked。
'She maun ken naething aboot it； mem。 I can…not tell her a'thing。
She wad greit an' pray awfu'； an' lock me up； I daursay。 Ye see；
she thinks a' kin' o' music 'cep' psalm…singin' comes o' the deevil
himsel'。 An' I canna believe that。 For aye whan I see onything by
ordinar bonnie； sic like as the mune was last nicht； it aye gars me
greit for my brunt fiddle。'
'Well； you must come to me every day for half…an…hour at least； and
I will give you a lesson on my piano。 But you can't learn by that。
And my aunt could never bear to hear you practising。 So I'll tell
you what you must do。 I have a small piano in my own room。 Do you
know there is a door from your house into my room？'
'Ay；' said Robert。 'That hoose was my father's afore your uncle
bought it。 My father biggit it。'
'Is it long since your father died？'
'I dinna ken。'
'Where did he die？'
'I dinna ken。'
'Do you remember it？'
'No； mem。'
'Well； if you will come to my room； you shall practise there。 I
shall be down…stairs with my aunt。 But perhaps I may look up now
and then； to see how you are getting on。 I will leave the door
unlocked； so that you can come in when you like。 If I don't want
you； I will lock the door。 You understand？ You mustn't be handling
things； you know。'
''Deed； mem； ye may lippen （trust） to me。 But I'm jist feared to
lat ye hear me lay a finger upo' the piana； for it's little I cud do
wi' my fiddle； an'； for the piana！ I'm feart I'll jist scunner
（disgust） ye。'
'If you really want to learn； there will be no fear of that；'
returned Miss St。 John； guessing at the meaning of the word scunner。
'I don't think I am doing anything wrong；' she added； half to
herself； in a somewhat doubtful tone。
''Deed no； mem。 Ye're jist an angel unawares。 For I maist think
sometimes that my grannie 'll drive me wud （mad）； for there's
naething to read but guid buiks； an' naething to sing but psalms；
an' there's nae fun aboot the hoose but Betty； an' puir Shargar's
nearhan' dementit wi' 't。 An' we maun pray till her whether we will
or no。 An' there's no comfort i' the place but plenty to ate； an'
that canna be guid for onybody。 She likes flooers； though； an' wad
like me to gar them grow； but I dinna care aboot it： they tak sic a
time afore they come to onything。'
Then Miss St。 John inquired about Shargar； and began to feel rather
differently towards the old lady when she had heard the story。 But
how she laughed at the tale； and how light…hearted Robert went home；
are neither to be told。
The next Sunday； the first time for many years； Dooble Sanny was at
church with his wife； though how much good he got by going would be
a serious question to discuss。
CHAPTER XXV。
THE GATES OF PARADISE。
Robert had his first lesson the next Saturday afternoon。 Eager and
undismayed by the presence of Mrs； Forsyth； good…natured and
contemptuousfor had he not a protecting angel by him？he
hearkened for every word of Miss St。 John； combated every fault； and
undermined every awkwardness with earnest patience。 Nothing
delighted Robert so much as to give himself up to one greater。 His
mistress was thoroughly pleased； and even Mrs。 Forsyth gave him two
of her soft finger tips to do something or other withRobert did
not know what； and let them go。
About eight o'clock that same evening； his heart beating like a
captured bird's； he crept from grannie's parlour； past the kitchen；
and up the low stair to the mysterious door。 He had been trying for
an hour to summon up courage to rise； feeling as if his grandmother
must suspect where he was going。 Arrived at the barrier； twice his
courage failed him； twice he turned and sped back to the parlour。 A
third time he made the essay； a third time stood at the wondrous
doorso long as blank as a wall to his careless eyes； now like the
door of the magic Sesame that led to the treasure…cave of Ali Baba。
He laid his hand on the knob； withdrew it； thought he heard some one
in the transe； rushed up the garret stair； and stood listening；
hastened down； and with a sudden influx of determination opened the
door； saw that the trap was raised； closed the door behind him； and
standing with his head on the level of the floor； gazed into the
paradise of Miss St。 John's room。 To have one peep into such a room
was a kind of salvation to the half…starved nature of the boy。 All
before him was elegance； richness； mystery。 Womanhood radiated from
everything。 A fire blazed in the chimney。 A rug of long white wool
lay before it。 A little way off stood the piano。 Ornaments
sparkled and shone upon the dressing…table。 The door of a wardrobe
had swung a little open； and discovered the sombre shimmer of a
black silk dress。 Something gorgeously red； a China crape shawl；
hung glowing beyond it。 He dared not gaze any longer。 He had
already been guilty of an immodesty。 He hastened to ascend； and
seated himself at the piano。
Let my reader aid me for a moment with his imaginationreflecting
what it was to a boy like Robert； and in Robert's misery； to open a
door in his own meagre dwelling and gaze into such a roomfree to
him。 If he will aid me so； then let him aid himself by thinking
that the house of his own soul has such a door into the infinite
beauty； whether he has yet found it or not。
'Just think；' Robert said to himself； 'o' me in sic a place！ It's a
pailace。 It's a fairy pailace。 And that angel o' a leddy bides
here； and sleeps there！ I wonner gin she ever dreams aboot onything
as bonny 's hersel'！'
Then his thoughts took another turn。
'I wonner gin the room was onything like this whan my mamma sleepit
in 't？ I cudna hae been born in sic a gran' place。 But my mamma
micht hae weel lien here。'
The face of the miniature； and the sad words written below the hymn；
came back upon him； and he bowed his head upon his hands。 He was
sitting thus when Miss St。 John came behind him； and heard him
murmur the one word Mamma！ She laid her hand on his shoulder。 He
started and rose。
'I beg yer pardon； mem。 I hae no business to be here； excep' to
play。 But I cudna help thinkin' aboot my mother； for I was born in
this room； mem。 Will I gang awa' again？'
He turned towards the door。
'No； no；' said Miss St。 John。 'I only came to see if you were here。
I cannot stop now； but to…morrow you must tell me about your
mother。 Sit down； and don't lose any more time。 Your grandmother
will miss you。 And then what would come of it？'
Thus was this rough diamond of a Scotch boy； rude in speech； but
full of delicate thought； gathered under the modelling influences of
the finished； refined； tender； sweet…tongued； and sweet…thoughted
Englishwoman； who； if she had been less of a woman； would have been
repelled by his uncouthness； if she had been less of a lady； would
have mistaken his commonness for vulgarity。 But she was just； like
the type of womankind； a virgin…mother。 She saw the nobility of his
nature through its homely garments； and had been； indeed； sent to
carry on the work from which his mother had been too early taken
away。
'There's jist ae thing mem； that vexes me a wee； an' I dinna ken
what to think aboot it；' said Robert； as Miss St。 John was leaving
the room。 'Maybe ye cud bide ae minute till I tell ye。'
'Yes； I can。 What is it？'
'I'm nearhan' sure that whan I lea' the parlour； grannie 'ill think
I'm awa' to my prayers； and sae she'll think better o' me nor I
deserve。 An' I canna bide that。'
'What should make you suppose that she will think so？'
'Fowk kens what ane anither's aboot； ye ken； mem。'
'Then she'll know you are not at your prayers。'
'Na。 For sometimes I div gang to my prayers for a whilie like； but
nae for lang； for I'm nae like ane o' them 'at he wad care to hear
sayin' a lang screed o' a prayer till 'im。 I hae but ae thing to
pray aboot。'
'And what's that； Robert？'
One of his silences had seized him。 He looked confused； and turned
away。
'Never mind；' said Miss St。 John； anxious to relieve him； and
establish a comfortable relation between them； 'you will tell me
another time。'