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Updated: June 11, 2025
Lord Hermiston sat in the saddle beholding her. Then he seemed to recover command upon himself. "Well, it's something of the suddenest," said he. "But she was a dwaibly body from the first." And he rode home at a precipitate amble with Kirstie at his horse's heels. Dressed as she was for her last walk, they had laid the dead lady on her bed.
"They're no mines, it was the lassie made them," said Kirstie; "and, saving your presence, there's little sense in taking the Lord's name in vain about idle vivers that you fill your kyte wi'." "I daresay you're perfectly right, ma'am," quoth the imperturbable Frank.
Being a lass of spirit, she quickly reasoned herself out of this foolishness, rose, washed, changed her stockings, put off her shawl for cap and apron, and albeit in trepidation presented herself once more at the door of Mrs. Johnstone's garret. "Please you, mistress," she managed to say, "I am Kirstie Maclachlan, the new maid from Wyliebank." Mrs. "Yes, mistress." "What books have you brought?"
Robert, Gilbert, Clement, and Andrew in the proper Border diminutives, Hob, Gib, Clem, and Dand Elliott these ballad heroes, had much in common; in particular, their high sense of the family and the family honour; but they went diverse ways, and prospered and failed in different businesses. According to Kirstie, "they had a' bees in their bonnets but Hob."
It must have been so for Kirstie at any time when the occasion chanced; but it so fell out that she was deprived of this delight in the hour when she had most need of it, when she had most to say, most to ask, and when she trembled to recognise her sovereignty not merely in abeyance but annulled.
But to-day in the midst of their discourse Kirstie felt a sudden uneasiness. Explain it she could not. Yet there came to her a sense, almost amounting to certainty, that Mrs. Johnstone was in trouble and had instant need of her. She had left her but a few minutes, and in ordinary health; there was no reason to be given for this apprehension.
And if you could have caught Frank off his guard, he would have confessed with a smirk that, if he resembled any one, it was the Marquis de Talleyrand-Périgord. It was on the occasion of Archie's first absence that this interest took root. It was vastly deepened when Kirstie resented his curiosity at breakfast, and that same afternoon there occurred another scene which clinched the business.
As for his father, no one can deny his ability, and I don't fancy any one would care to deny that he has the deil's own temper " "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Innes, I think the lass is crying on me," said Kirstie, and flounced from the room. "The damned, cross-grained, old broomstick!" ejaculated Innes.
But Kirstie though her heart leaped at his coming footsteps though, when he patted her shoulder, her face brightened for the day had not a hope or thought beyond the present moment and its perpetuation to the end of time. I have said her heart leaped it is the accepted phrase.
And Kirstie had been swift to understand and quick to choke down and smother the understanding; swift to leap up in flame at a mention of that hope, which spoke volumes to her vanity and her love, that she might one day be Mrs.
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