But there were other modes of punishment, of which the
restraints of art would forbid the description, even if it were
possible for any writer to conquer his disgust so far as to attempt it.
Annie shivered and quaked. Once she burst out crying, but managed to
choke her sobs, if she could not hide her tears.
A fine-looking boy, three or four years older than herself, whose open
countenance was set off by masses of dark brown hair, was called up to
receive chastisement, merited or unmerited as the case might be; for
such a disposition as that of Murdoch Malison must have been more than
ordinarily liable to mistake. Justice, according to his idea, consisted
in vengeance. And he was fond of justice. He did not want to punish the
innocent, it is true; but I doubt whether the discovery of a boy's
innocence was not a disappointment to him. Without a word of
expostulation or defence, the boy held out his hand, with his arm at
full length, received four stinging blows upon it, grew very red in the
face, gave a kind of grotesque smile, and returned to his seat with the
suffering hand sent into retirement in his trowsers-pocket. Annie's
admiration of his courage as well as of his looks, though perhaps
unrecognizable as such by herself, may have had its share with her pity
in the tears that followed.
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