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.
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