"I don't think it a raid," said Archie grimly. "More like a war. I

saw that poor brute hanged this morning, and my gorge rises at it yet."
"Hut-tut," returned his companion, and, dropping his arm like something

hot, he sought the less tense society of others.
Archie found himself alone. The last of the faithful - or was it only

the boldest of the curious? - had fled. He watched the black huddle of
his fellow-students draw off down and up the street, in whispering or

boisterous gangs. And the isolation of the moment weighed upon him like
an omen and an emblem of his destiny in life. Bred up in unbroken fear

himself, among trembling servants, and in a house which (at the least
ruffle in the master's voice) shuddered into silence, he saw himself on

the brink of the red valley of war, and measured the danger and length
of it with awe. He made a detour in the glimmer and shadow of the

streets, came into the back stable lane, and watched for a long while
the light burn steady in the Judge's room. The longer he gazed upon

that illuminated window-blind, the more blank became the picture of the
man who sat behind it, endlessly turning over sheets of process, pausing

to sip a glass of port, or rising and passing heavily about his book-
lined walls to verify some reference. He could not combine the brutal

judge and the industrious, dispassionate student; the connecting link
escaped him; from such a dual nature, it was impossible he should

predict behaviour; and he asked himself if he had done well to plunge
into a business of which the end could not be foreseen" target="_blank" title="foresee的过去分词">foreseen? and presently

after, with a sickening decline of confidence, if he had done loyally to
strike his father? For he had struck him - defied him twice over and

before a cloud of witnesses - struck him a public buffet before crowds.
Who had called him to judge his father in these precarious and high

questions? The office was usurped. It might have become a stranger; in
a son - there was no blinking it - in a son, it was disloyal. And now,

between these two natures so antipathetic, so hateful to each other,
there was depending an unpardonable affront: and the providence of God

alone might foresee the manner in which it would be resented by Lord
Hermiston.

These misgivings tortured him all night and arose with him in the
winter's morning; they followed him from class to class, they made him

shrinkingly sensitive to every shade of manner in his companions, they
sounded in his ears through the current voice of the professor; and he

brought them home with him at night unabated and indeed increased. The
cause of this increase lay in a chance encounter with the celebrated Dr.

Gregory. Archie stood looking vaguely in the lighted window of a book
shop, trying to nerve himself for the approaching ordeal. My lord and

he had met and parted in the morning as they had now done for long, with
scarcely the ordinary civilities of life; and it was plain to the son

that nothing had yet reached the father's ears. Indeed, when he
recalled the awful countenance of my lord, a timid hope sprang up in him

that perhaps there would be found no one bold enough to carry tales. If
this were so, he asked himself, would he begin again? and he found no

answer. It was at this moment that a hand was laid upon his arm, and a
voice said in his ear, "My dear Mr. Archie, you had better come and see

me."
He started, turned round, and found himself face to face with Dr.

Gregory. "And why should I come to see you?" he asked, with the
defiance of the miserable.

"Because you are looking exceedingly ill," said the doctor, "and you
very evidently want looking after, my young friend. Good folk are

scarce, you know; and it is not every one that would be quite so much
missed as yourself. It is not every one that Hermiston would miss."

And with a nod and a smile, the doctor passed on.
A moment after, Archie was in pursuit, and had in turn, but more

roughly, seized him by the arm.
"What do you mean? what did you mean by saying that? What makes you

think that Hermis - my father would have missed me?"
The doctor turned about and looked him all over with a clinical eye. A

far more stupid man than Dr. Gregory might have guessed the truth; but
ninety-nine out of a hundred, even if they had been equally inclined to

kindness, would have blundered by some touch of charitable exaggeration.
The doctor was better inspired. He knew the father well; in that white

face of intelligence and suffering, he divined something of the son; and
he told, without apology or adornment, the plain truth.

"When you had the measles, Mr. Archibald, you had them gey and ill; and
I thought you were going to slip between my fingers," he said. "Well,

your father was anxious. How did I know it? says you. Simply because I
am a trained observer. The sign that I saw him make, ten thousand would

have missed; and perhaps - PERHAPS, I say, because he's a hard man to
judge of - but perhaps he never made another. A strange thing to

consider! It was this. One day I came to him: `Hermiston,' said I,
`there's a change.' He never said a word, just glowered at me (if ye'll

pardon the phrase) like a wild beast. `A change for the better,' said
I. And I distinctly heard him take his breath."

The doctor left no opportunity for anti-climax; nodding his cocked hat
(a piece of antiquity to which he clung) and repeating "Distinctly" with

raised eye-brows, he took his departure, and left Archie speechless in
the street.

The anecdote might be called infinitely little, and yet its meaning for
Archie was immense. "I did not know the old man had so much blood in

him." He had never dreamed this sire of his, this aboriginal antique,
this adamantine Adam, had even so much of a heart as to be moved in the

least degree for another - and that other himself, who had insulted him!
With the generosity of youth, Archie was instantly under arms upon the

other side: had instantly created a new image of Lord Hermiston, that of
a man who was all iron without and all sensibility within. The mind of

the vile jester, the tongue that had pursued Duncan Jopp with unmanly
insults, the unbeloved countenance that he had known and feared for so

long, were all forgotten; and he hastened home, impatient to confess his
misdeeds, impatient to throw himself on the mercy of this imaginary

character.
He was not to be long without a rude awakening. It was in the gloaming

when he drew near the door-step of the lighted house, and was aware of
the figure of his father approaching from the opposite side. Little

daylight lingered; but on the door being opened, the strong yellow shine
of the lamp gushed out upon the landing and shone full on Archie, as he

stood, in the old-fashionedobservance of respect, to yield precedence.
The judge came without haste, stepping stately and firm; his chin

raised, his face (as he entered the lamplight) strongly illumined, his
mouth set hard. There was never a wink of change in his expression;

without looking to the right or left, he mounted the stair, passed close
to Archie, and entered the house. Instinctively, the boy, upon his

first coming, had made a movement to meet him; instinctively" target="_blank" title="ad.本能地">instinctively he recoiled
against the railing, as the old man swept by him in a pomp of

indignation. Words were needless; he knew all - perhaps more than all -
and the hour of judgment was at hand.

It is possible that, in this sudden revulsion of hope, and before these
symptoms of impending danger, Archie might have fled. But not even that

was left to him. My lord, after hanging up his cloak and hat, turned
round in the lighted entry, and made him an imperative and silent

gesture with his thumb, and with the strange instinct of obedience,
Archie followed him into the house.

All dinner-time there reigned over the Judge's table a palpable silence,
and as soon as the solids were despatched he rose to his feet.

"M'Killup, tak' the wine into my room," said he; and then to his son:
"Archie, you and me has to have a talk."

It was at this sickening moment that Archie's courage, for the first and
last time, entirely deserted him. "I have an appointment," said he.

"It'll have to be broken, then," said Hermiston, and led the way into
his study.

The lamp was shaded, the fire trimmed to a nicety, the table covered
deep with orderly documents, the backs of law books made a frame upon

all sides that was only broken by the window and the doors.
For a moment Hermiston warmed his hands at the fire, presenting his back

to Archie; then suddenly disclosed on him the terrors of the Hanging
Face.

"What's this I hear of ye?" he asked.
There was no answer possible to Archie.