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force of manhood added the senatorial dignity of years； it was； perhaps；
with an unreverend awe； but he was awful。 The Bench； the Bar； and the
most experienced and reluctant witness； bowed to his authority … and why
not Jeannie Rutherford？
The heresy about foolish women is always punished； I have said； and
Lord Hermiston began to pay the penalty at once。 His house in George
Square was wretchedly ill…guided； nothing answerable to the expense of
maintenance but the cellar； which was his own private care。 When things
went wrong at dinner； as they continually did； my lord would look up the
table at his wife： 〃I think these broth would be better to sweem in than to
sup。〃 Or else to the butler： 〃Here； M'Killop； awa' wi' this Raadical gigot …
tak' it to the French； man； and bring me some puddocks！ It seems rather a
sore kind of a business that I should be all day in Court haanging
Raadicals； and get nawthing to my denner。〃 Of course this was but a
manner of speaking； and he had never hanged a man for being a Radical in
his life； the law； of which he was the faithful minister； directing otherwise。
And of course these growls were in the nature of pleasantry； but it was of a
recondite sort； and uttered as they were in his resounding voice； and
commented on by that expression which they called in the Parliament
House 〃Hermiston's hanging face〃 … they struck mere dismay into the wife。
She sat before him speechless and fluttering； at each dish； as at a fresh
ordeal； her eye hovered toward my lord's countenance and fell again； if he
but ate in silence； unspeakable relief was her portion； if there were
complaint； the world was darkened。 She would seek out the cook； who
was always her SISTER IN THE LORD。 〃O； my dear； this is the most
dreidful thing that my lord can never be contented in his own house！〃 she
would begin； and weep and pray with the cook； and then the cook would
pray with Mrs。 Weir； and the next day's meal would never be a penny the
better … and the next cook （when she came） would be worse； if anything；
but just as pious。 It was often wondered that Lord Hermiston bore it as he
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did； indeed； he was a stoical old voluptuary； contented with sound wine
and plenty of it。 But there were moments when he overflowed。 Perhaps
half a dozen times in the history of his married life … 〃Here！ tak' it awa'；
and bring me a piece bread and kebbuck！〃 he had exclaimed； with an
appalling explosion of his voice and rare gestures。 None thought to dispute
or to make excuses； the service was arrested； Mrs。 Weir sat at the head of
the table whimpering without disguise； and his lordship opposite munched
his bread and cheese in ostentatious disregard。 Once only； Mrs。 Weir had
ventured to appeal。 He was passing her chair on his way into the study。
〃O； Edom！〃 she wailed； in a voice tragic with tears； and reaching out
to him both hands； in one of which she held a sopping pocket…
handkerchief。
He paused and looked upon her with a face of wrath； into which there
stole； as he looked； a twinkle of humour。
〃Noansense！〃 he said。 〃You and your noansense！ What do I want with
a Christian faim'ly？ I want Christian broth！ Get me a lass that can plain…
boil a potato； if she was a whure off the streets。〃 And with these words；
which echoed in her tender ears like blasphemy； he had passed on to his
study and shut the door behind him。
Such was the housewifery in George Square。 It was better at
Hermiston； where Kirstie Elliott； the sister of a neighbouring bonnet…laird；
and an eighteenth cousin of the lady's； bore the charge of all； and kept a
trim house and a good country table。 Kirstie was a woman in a thousand；
clean； capable； notable； once a moorland Helen； and still comely as a
blood horse and healthy as the hill wind。 High in flesh and voice and
colour； she ran the house with her whole intemperate soul； in a bustle； not
without buffets。 Scarce more pious than decency in those days required；
she was the cause of many an anxious thought and many a tearful prayer
to Mrs。 Weir。 Housekeeper and mistress renewed the parts of Martha and
Mary； and though with a pricking conscience； Mary reposed on Martha's
strength as on a rock。 Even Lord Hermiston held Kirstie in a particular
regard。 There were few with whom he unbent so gladly； few whom he
favoured with so many pleasantries。 〃Kirstie and me maun have our joke；〃
he would declare in high good…humour； as he buttered Kirstie's scones； and
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she waited at table。 A man who had no need either of love or of popularity；
a keen reader of men and of events； there was perhaps only one truth for
which he was quite unprepared： he would have been quite unprepared to
learn that Kirstie hated him。 He thought maid and master were well
matched； hard； bandy； healthy； broad Scots folk； without a hair of
nonsense to the pair of them。 And the fact was that she made a goddess
and an only child of the effete and tearful lady； and even as she waited at
table her hands would sometimes itch for my lord's ears。
Thus； at least； when the family were at Hermiston； not only my lord；
but Mrs。 Weir too； enjoyed a holiday。 Free from the dreadful looking…for
of the miscarried dinner； she would mind her seam； read her piety books；
and take her walk （which was my lord's orders）； sometimes by herself；
sometimes with Archie； the only child of that scarce natural union。 The
child was her next bond to life。 Her frosted sentiment bloomed again； she
breathed deep of life； she let loose her heart； in that society。 The miracle of
her motherhood was ever new to her。 The sight of the little man at her skirt
intoxicated her with the sense of power； and froze her with the
consciousness of her responsibility。 She looked forward； and； seeing him
in fancy grow up and play his diverse part on the world's theatre； caught in
her breath and lifted up her courage with a lively effort。 It was only with
the child that she forgot herself and was at moments natural； yet it was
only with the child that she had conceived and managed to pursue a
scheme of conduct。 Archie was to be a great man and a good； a minister if
possible； a saint for certain。 She tried to engage his mind upon her
favourite books； Rutherford's LETTERS； Scougalls GRACE
ABOUNDING； and the like。 It was a common practice of hers （and
strange to remember now） that she would carry the child to the Deil's Hags；
sit with him on the Praying Weaver's stone； and talk of the Covenanters till
their tears ran down。 Her view of history was wholly artless； a design in
snow and ink； upon the one side； tender innocents with psalms upon their
lips； upon the other； the persecutors； booted； bloody…minded； flushed with
wine： a suffering Christ； a raging Beelzebub。 PERSECUTOR was a word
that knocked upon the woman's heart； it was her highest thought of
wickedness； and the mark of it was on her house。 Her great…great…
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grandfather had drawn the sword against the Lord's anointed on the field
of Rullion Green； and breathed his last （tradition said） in the arms of the
detestable Dalyell。 Nor could she blind herself to this； that had they lived
in those old days； Hermiston himself would have been numbered
alongside of Bloody MacKenzie and the politic Lauderdale and Rothes； in
the band of God's immediate enemies。 The sense of this moved her to the
more fervour； she had a voice for that name of PERSECUTOR that
thrilled in the child's marrow； and when one day the mob hooted and
hissed them all in my lord's travelling carriage； and cried； 〃Down with the
persecutor！ down with Hanging Hermiston！〃 and mamma covered her
eyes and wept； and papa let down the