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"I'll have to tell ye, then," pursued Hermiston. "It seems ye've been

skirting against the father that begot ye, and one of his Maijesty's



Judges in this land; and that in the public street, and while an order

of the Court was being executit. Forbye which, it would appear that



ye've been airing your opeenions in a Coallege Debatin' Society"; he

paused a moment: and then, with extraordinarybitterness, added: "Ye



damned eediot."

"I had meant to tell you," stammered Archie. "I see you are well



informed."

"Muckle obleeged to ye," said his lordship, and took his usual seat.



"And so you approve" target="_blank" title="v.不赞成;指责">disapprove of Caapital Punishment?" he added.

"I am sorry, sir, I do," said Archie.



"I am sorry, too," said his lordship. "And now, if you please, we shall

approach this business with a little more parteecularity. I hear that



at the hanging of Duncan Jopp - and, man! ye had a fine client there -

in the middle of all the riff-raff of the ceety, ye thought fit to cry



out, `This is a damned murder, and my gorge rises at the man that

haangit him.' "



"No, sir, these were not my words," cried Archie.

"What were yer words, then?" asked the Judge.



"I believe I said, `I denounce it as a murder!'" said the son. "I beg

your pardon - a God-defying murder. I have no wish to conceal the



truth," he added, and looked his father for a moment in the face.

"God, it would only need that of it next!" cried Hermiston. "There was



nothing about your gorge rising, then?"

"That was afterwards, my lord, as I was leaving the Speculative. I said



I had been to see the miserable creature hanged, and my gorge rose at

it."



"Did ye, though?" said Hermiston. "And I suppose ye knew who haangit

him?"



"I was present at the trial, I ought to tell you that, I ought to

explain. I ask your pardonbeforehand for any expression that may seem



undutiful. The position in which I stand is wretched," said the unhappy

hero, now fairly face to face with the business he had chosen. "I have



been reading some of your cases. I was present while Jopp was tried.

It was a hideous business. Father, it was a hideous thing! Grant he



was vile, why should you hunt him with a vileness equal to his own? It

was done with glee - that is the word - you did it with glee; and I



looked on, God help me! with horror."

"You're a young gentleman that doesna approve of Caapital Punishment,"



said Hermiston. "Weel, I'm an auld man that does. I was glad to get

Jopp haangit, and what for would I pretend I wasna? You're all for



honesty, it seems; you couldn't even steik your mouth on the public

street. What for should I steik mines upon the bench, the King's



officer, bearing the sword, a dreid to evil-doers, as I was from the

beginning, and as I will be to the end! Mair than enough of it!



Heedious! I never gave twa thoughts to heediousness, I have no call to

be bonny. I'm a man that gets through with my day's business, and let



that suffice."

The ring of sarcasm had died out of his voice as he went on; the plain



words became invested with some of the dignity of the Justice-seat.

"It would be telling you if you could say as much," the speaker resumed.



"But ye cannot. Ye've been reading some of my cases, ye say. But it

was not for the law in them, it was to spy out your faither's nakedness,



a fine employment in a son. You're splairging; you're running at lairge

in life like a wild nowt. It's impossible you should think any longer



of coming to the Bar. You're not fit for it; no splairger is. And

another thing: son of mines or no son of mines, you have flung fylement



in public on one of the Senators of the Coallege of Justice, and I would

make it my business to see that ye were never admitted there yourself.



There is a kind of a decency to be observit. Then comes the next of it

- what am I to do with ye next? Ye'll have to find some kind of a



trade, for I'll never support ye in idleset. What do ye fancy ye'll be

fit for? The pulpit? Na, they could never get diveenity into that



bloackhead. Him that the law of man whammles is no likely to do muckle

better by the law of God. What would ye make of hell? Wouldna your



gorge rise at that? Na, there's no room for splairgers under the fower

quarters of John Calvin. What else is there? Speak up. Have ye got






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