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nothing of your own?"
"Father, let me go to the Peninsula," said Archie. "That's all I'm fit

for - to fight."
"All? quo' he!" returned the Judge. "And it would be enough too, if I

thought it. But I'll never trust ye so near the French, you that's so
Frenchi-feed."

"You do me injustice there, sir," said Archie. "I am loyal; I will not
boast; but any interest I may have ever felt in the French - "

"Have ye been so loyal to me?" interrupted his father.
There came no reply.

"I think not," continued Hermiston. "And I would send no man to be a
servant to the King, God bless him! that has proved such a shauchling

son to his own faither. You can splairge here on Edinburgh street, and
where's the hairm? It doesna play buff on me! And if there were twenty

thousand eediots like yourself, sorrow a Duncan Jopp would hang the
fewer. But there's no splairging possible in a camp; and if ye were to

go to it, you would find out for yourself whether Lord Well'n'ton
approves of caapital punishment or not. You a sodger!" he cried, with a

sudden burst of scorn. "Ye auld wife, the sodgers would bray at ye like
cuddies!"

As at the drawing of a curtain, Archie was aware of some illogicality in
his position, and stood abashed. He had a strong impression, besides,

of the essentialvalour of the old gentleman before him, how conveyed it
would be hard to say.

"Well, have ye no other proposeetion?" said my lord again.
"You have taken this so calmly, sir, that I cannot but stand ashamed,"

began Archie.
"I'm nearer voamiting, though, than you would fancy," said my lord.

The blood rose to Archie's brow.
"I beg your pardon, I should have said that you had accepted my affront.

. . . I admit it was an affront; I did not think to apologise, but I do,
I ask your pardon; it will not be so again, I pass you my word of

honour. . . . I should have said that I admired your magnanimity with -
this - offender," Archie concluded with a gulp.

"I have no other son, ye see," said Hermiston. "A bonny one I have
gotten! But I must just do the best I can wi' him, and what am I to do?

If ye had been younger, I would have wheepit ye for this rideeculous
exhibeetion. The way it is, I have just to grin and bear. But one

thing is to be clearly understood. As a faither, I must grin and bear
it; but if I had been the Lord Advocate instead of the Lord Justice-

Clerk, son or no son, Mr. Erchibald Weir would have been in a jyle the
night."

Archie was now dominated. Lord Hermiston was coarse and cruel; and yet
the son was aware of a bloomless nobility, an ungracious abnegation of

the man's self in the man's office. At every word, this sense of the
greatness of Lord Hermiston's spirit struck more home; and along with it

that of his own impotence, who had struck - and perhaps basely struck -
at his own father, and not reached so far as to have even nettled him.

"I place myself in your hands without reserve," he said.
"That's the first sensible word I've had of ye the night," said

Hermiston. "I can tell ye, that would have been the end of it, the one
way or the other; but it's better ye should come there yourself, than

what I would have had to hirstle ye. Weel, by my way of it - and my way
is the best - there's just the one thing it's possible that ye might be

with decency, and that's a laird. Ye'll be out of hairm's way at the
least of it. If ye have to rowt, ye can rowt amang the kye; and the

maist feck of the caapital punishmeiit ye're like to come across'll be
guddling trouts. Now, I'm for no idle lairdies; every man has to work,

if it's only at peddling ballants; to work, or to be wheeped, or to be
haangit. If I set ye down at Hermiston I'll have to see you work that

place the way it has never been workit yet; ye must ken about the sheep
like a herd; ye must be my grieve there, and I'll see that I gain by ye.

Is that understood?"
"I will do my best," said Archie.

"Well, then, I'll send Kirstie word the morn, and ye can go yourself the
day after," said Hermiston. "And just try to be less of an eediot!" he

concluded with a freezing smile, and turned immediately to the papers on
his desk.

CHAPTER IV - OPINIONS OF THE BENCH
LATE the same night, after a disordered walk, Archie was admitted into

Lord Glenalmond's dining-room, where he sat with a book upon his knee,
beside three frugal coals of fire. In his robes upon the bench,

Glenalmond had a certain air of burliness: plucked of these, it was a
may-pole of a man that rose unsteadily from his chair to give his

visitor welcome. Archie had suffered much in the last days, he had
suffered again that evening; his face was white and drawn, his eyes wild

and dark. But Lord Glenalmond greeted him without the least mark of
surprise or curiosity.

"Come in, come in," said he. "Come in and take a seat. Carstairs" (to
his servant), "make up the fire, and then you can bring a bit of

supper," and again to Archie, with a very trivialaccent: "I was half
expecting you," he added.

"No supper," said Archie. "It is impossible that I should eat."
"Not impossible," said the tall old man, laying his hand upon his

shoulder, "and, if you will believe me, necessary."
"You know what brings me?" said Archie, as soon as the servant had left

the room.
"I have a guess, I have a guess," replied Glenalmond. "We will talk of

it presently - when Carstairs has come and gone, and you have had a
piece of my good Cheddar cheese and a pull at the porter tankard: not

before."
"It is impossible I should eat" repeated Archie.

"Tut, tut!" said Lord Glenalmond. "You have eaten nothing to-day, and I
venture to add, nothing yesterday. There is no case that may not be

made worse; this may be a very disagreeable business, but if you were to
fall sick and die, it would be still more so, and for all concerned -

for all concerned."
"I see you must know all," said Archie. "Where did you hear it?"

"In the mart of scandal, in the Parliament House," said Glenalmond. "It
runs riot below among the bar and the public, but it sifts up to us upon

the bench, and rumour has some of her voices even in the divisions."
Carstairs returned at this moment, and rapidly laid out a little supper;

during which Lord Glenalmond spoke at large and a little vaguely on
indifferent subjects, so that it might be rather said of him that he

made a cheerful noise, than that he contributed to human conversation;
and Archie sat upon the other side, not heeding him, brooding over his

wrongs and errors.
But so soon as the servant was gone, he broke forth again at once. "Who

told my father? Who dared to tell him? Could it have been you?"
"No, it was not me," said the Judge; "although - to be quite frank with

you, and after I had seen and warned you - it might have been me - I
believe it was Glenkindie."

"That shrimp!" cried Archie.
"As you say, that shrimp," returned my lord; "although really it is

scarce a fitting mode of expression for one of the senators of the
College of Justice. We were hearing the parties in a long, crucial

case, before the fifteen; Creech was moving at some length for an
infeftment; when I saw Glenkindie lean forward to Hermiston with his

hand over his mouth and make him a secret communication. No one could
have guessed its nature from your father: from Glenkindie, yes, his

malice sparked out of him a little grossly. But your father, no. A man
of granite. The next moment he pounced upon Creech. `Mr. Creech,' says

he, `I'll take a look of that sasine,' and for thirty minutes after,"
said Glenalmond, with a smile, "Messrs. Creech and Co. were fighting a

pretty up-hill battle, which resulted, I need hardly add, in their total
rout. The case was dismissed. No, I doubt if ever I heard Hermiston

better inspired. He was literallyrejoicing IN APICIBUS JURIS."
Archie was able to endure no longer. He thrust his plate away and

interrupted the deliberate and insignificantstream of talk. "Here," he
said, "I have made a fool of myself, if I have not made something worse.

Do you judge between us - judge between a father and a son. I can speak
to you; it is not like ... I will tell you what I feel and what I mean

to do; and you shall be the judge," he repeated.
"I decline jurisdiction," said Glenalmond, with extreme seriousness.

"But, my dear boy, if it will do you any good to talk, and if it will
interest you at all to hear what I may choose to say when I have heard

you, I am quite at your command. Let an old man say it, for once, and
not need to blush: I love you like a son."

There came a sudden sharp sound in Archie's throat. "Ay," he cried,
"and there it is! Love! Like a son! And how do you think I love my

father?"
"Quietly, quietly," says my lord.

"I will be very quiet," replied Archie. "And I will be baldly frank. I
do not love my father; I wonder sometimes if I do not hate him. There's

my shame; perhaps my sin; at least, and in the sight of God, not my
fault. How was I to love him? He has never spoken to me, never smiled

upon me; I do not think he ever touched me. You know the way he talks?
You do not talk so, yet you can sit and hear him without shuddering, and

I cannot. My soul is sick when he begins with it; I could smite him in
the mouth. And all that's nothing. I was at the trial of this Jopp.

You were not there, but you must have heard him often; the man's
notorious for it, for being - look at my position! he's my father and

this is how I have to speak of him - notorious for being a brute and
cruel and a coward. Lord Glenalmond, I give you my word, when I came

out of that Court, I longed to die - the shame of it was beyond my
strength: but I - I -" he rose from his seat and began to pace the room

in a disorder. "Well, who am I? A boy, who have never been tried, have
never done anything except this twopenny impotent folly with my father.

But I tell you, my lord, and I know myself, I am at least that kind of a
man - or that kind of a boy, if you prefer it - that I could die in

torments rather than that any one should suffer as that scoundrel
suffered. Well, and what have I done? I see it now. I have made a

fool of myself, as I said in the beginning; and I have gone back, and
asked my father's pardon, and placed myself wholly in his hands - and he

has sent me to Hermiston," with a wretched smile, "for life, I suppose -
and what can I say? he strikes me as having done quite right, and let me

off better than I had deserved."
"My poor, dear boy!" observed Glenalmond. "My poor dear and, if you

will allow me to say so, very foolish boy! You are only discovering
where you are; to one of your temperament, or of mine, a painful

discovery. The world was not made for us; it was made for ten hundred
millions of men, all different from each other and from us; there's no

royal road there, we just have to sclamber and tumble. Don't think that
I am at all disposed to be surprised; don't suppose that I ever think of

blaming you; indeed I rather admire! But there fall to be offered one
or two observations on the case which occur to me and which (if you will

listen to them dispassionately) may be the means of inducing you to view
the matter more calmly. First of all, I cannot acquit you of a good

deal of what is called intolerance. You seem to have been very much
offended because your father talks a little sculduddery after dinner,

which it is perfectly licit for him to do, and which (although I am not
very fond of it myself) appears to be entirely an affair of taste. Your

father, I scarcely like to remind you, since it is so trite a
commonplace, is older than yourself. At least, he is MAJOR and SUI

JURIS, and may please himself in the matter of his conversation. And,
do you know, I wonder if he might not have as good an answer against you

and me? We say we sometimes find him COARSE, but I suspect he might
retort that he finds us always dull. Perhaps a relevant exception."

He beamed on Archie, but no smile could be elicited.
"And now," proceeded the Judge, "for `Archibald on Capital Punishment.'

This is a very plausible academic opinion; of course I do not and I
cannot hold it; but that's not to say that many able and excellent

persons have not done so in the past. Possibly, in the past also, I may
have a little dipped myself in the same heresy. My third client, or

possibly my fourth, was the means of a return in my opinions. I never
saw the man I more believed in; I would have put my hand in the fire, I

would have gone to the cross for him; and when it came to trial he was
gradually pictured before me, by undeniable probation, in the light of

so gross, so cold-blooded, and so black-hearted a villain, that I had a
mind to have cast my brief upon the table. I was then boiling against

the man with even a more tropical temperature than I had been boiling


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