Weir　of　Hermiston
  by　Robert　Louis　Stevenson
  TO　MY　WIFE
  I　saw　rain　falling　and　the　rainbow　drawn
  On　Lammermuir。　　Hearkening　I　heard　again
  In　my　precipitous　city　beaten　bells
  Winnow　the　keen　sea　wind。　　And　here　afar；
  Intent　on　my　own　race　and　place；　I　wrote。
  Take　thou　the　writing：　thine　it　is。　　For　who
  Burnished　the　sword；　blew　on　the　drowsy　coal；
  Held　still　the　target　higher；　chary　of　praise
  And　prodigal　of　counsel　…　who　but　thou？
  So　now；　in　the　end；　if　this　the　least　be　good；
  If　any　deed　be　done；　if　any　fire
  Burn　in　the　imperfect　page；　the　praise　be　thine。
  INTRODUCTORY
  IN　the　wild　end　of　a　moorland　parish；　far　out　of　the　sight　of　any　house；
  there　stands　a　cairn　among　the　heather；　and　a　little　by　east　of　it；　in
  the　going　down　of　the　brae…side；　a　monument　with　some　verses　half
  defaced。　　It　was　here　that　Claverhouse　shot　with　his　own　hand　the
  Praying　Weaver　of　Balweary；　and　the　chisel　of　Old　Mortality　has　clinked
  on　that　lonely　gravestone。　　Public　and　domestic　history　have　thus　marked
  with　a　bloody　finger　this　hollow　among　the　hills；　and　since　the
  Cameronian　gave　his　life　there；　two　hundred　years　ago；　in　a　glorious
  folly；　and　without　comprehension　or　regret；　the　silence　of　the　moss　has
  been　broken　once　again　by　the　report　of　firearms　and　the　cry　of　the
  dying。
  The　Deil's　Hags　was　the　old　name。　　But　the　place　is　now　called　Francie's
  Cairn。　　For　a　while　it　was　told　that　Francie　walked。　　Aggic　Hogg　met　him
  in　the　gloaming　by　the　cairnside；　and　he　spoke　to　her；　with　chattering
  teeth；　so　that　his　words　were　lost。　　He　pursued　Rob　Todd　（if　any　one
  could　have　believed　Robbie）　for　the　space　of　half　a　mile　with　pitiful
  entreaties。　　But　the　age　is　one　of　incredulity；　these　superstitious
  decorations　speedily　fell　off；　and　the　facts　of　the　story　itself；　like
  the　bones　of　a　giant　buried　there　and　half　dug　up；　survived；　naked　and
  imperfect；　in　the　memory　of　the　scattered　neighbours。　　To　this　day；　of
  winter　nights；　when　the　sleet　is　on　the　window　and　the　cattle　are　quiet
  in　the　byre；　there　will　be　told　again；　amid　the　silence　of　the　young　and
  the　additions　and　corrections　of　the　old；　the　tale　of　the　Justice…Clerk
  and　of　his　son；　young　Hermiston；　that　vanished　from　men's　knowledge；　of
  the　two　Kirsties　and　the　Four　Black　Brothers　of　the　Cauldstaneslap；　and
  of　Frank　Innes；　〃the　young　fool　advocate；〃　that　came　into　these　moorland
  parts　to　find　his　destiny。
  CHAPTER　I　…　LIFE　AND　DEATH　OF　MRS。　WEIR
  THE　Lord　Justice…Clerk　was　a　stranger　in　that　part　of　the　country；　but
  his　lady　wife　was　known　there　from　a　child；　as　her　race　had　been　before
  her。　　The　old　〃riding　Rutherfords　of　Hermiston；〃　of　whom　she　was　the
  last　descendant；　had　been　famous　men　of　yore；　ill　neighbours；　ill
  subjects；　and　ill　husbands　to　their　wives　though　not　their　properties。
  Tales　of　them　were　rife　for　twenty　miles　about；　and　their　name　was　even
  printed　in　the　page　of　our　Scots　histories；　not　always　to　their　credit。
  One　bit　the　dust　at　Flodden；　one　was　hanged　at　his　peel　door　by　James
  the　Fifth；　another　fell　dead　in　a　carouse　with　Tom　Dalyell；　while　a
  fourth　（and　that　was　Jean's　own　father）　died　presiding　at　a　Hell…Fire
  Club；　of　which　he　was　the　founder。　　There　were　many　heads　shaken　in
  Crossmichael　at　that　judgment；　the　more　so　as　the　man　had　a　villainous
  reputation　among　high　and　low；　and　both　with　the　godly　and　the　worldly。
  At　that　very　hour　of　his　demise；　he　had　ten　going　pleas　before　the
  Session；　eight　of　them　oppressive。　　And　the　same　doom　extended　even　to
  his　agents；　his　grieve；　that　had　been　his　right　hand　in　many　a　left…hand
  business；　being　cast　from　his　horse　one　night　and　drowned　in　a　peat…hag
  on　the　Kye…skairs；　and　his　very　doer　（although　lawyers　have　long　spoons）
  surviving　him　not　long；　and　dying　on　a　sudden　in　a　bloody　flux。
  In　all　these　generations；　while　a　male　Rutherford　was　in　the　saddle　with
  his　lads；　or　brawling　in　a　change…house；　there　would　be　always　a　white…
  faced　wife　immured　at　home　in　the　old　peel　or　the　later　mansion…house。
  It　seemed　this　succession　of　martyrs　bided　long；　but　took　their
  vengeance　in　the　end；　and　that　was　in　the　person　of　the　last　descendant；
  Jean。　　She　bore　the　name　of　the　Rutherfords；　but　she　was　the　daughter　of
  their　trembling　wives。　　At　the　first　she　was　not　wholly　without　charm。
  Neighbours　recalled　in　her；　as　a　child；　a　strain　of　elfin　wilfulness；
  gentle　little　mutinies；　sad　little　gaieties；　even　a　morning　gleam　of
  beauty　that　was　not　to　be　fulfilled。　　She　withered　in　the　growing；　and
  （whether　it　was　the　sins　of　her　sires　or　the　sorrows　of　her　mothers）
  came　to　her　maturity　depressed；　and；　as　it　were；　defaced；　no　blood　of
  life　in　her；　no　grasp　or　gaiety；　pious；　anxious；　tender；　tearful；　and
  incompetent。
  It　was　a　wonder　to　many　that　she　had　married　…　seeming　so　wholly　of　the
  stuff　that　makes　old　maids。　　But　chance　cast　her　in　the　path　of　Adam
  Weir；　then　the　new　Lord…Advocate；　a　recognised；　risen　man；　the　conqueror
  of　many　obstacles；　and　thus　late　in　the　day　beginning　to　think　upon　a
  wife。　　He　was　one　who　looked　rather　to　obedience　than　beauty；　yet　it
  would　seem　he　was　struck　with　her　at　the　first　look。　　〃Wha's　she？〃　he
  said；　turning　to　his　host；　and；　when　he　had　been　told；　〃Ay；〃　says　he；
  〃she　looks　menseful。　　She　minds　me　…　〃；　and　then；　after　a　pause　（which
  some　have　been　daring　enough　to　set　down　to　sentimental　recollections）；
  〃Is　she　releegious？〃　he　asked；　and　was　shortly　after；　at　his　own
  request；　presented。　　The　acquaintance；　which　it　seems　profane　to　call　a
  courtship；　was　pursued　with　Mr。　Weir's　accustomed　industry；　and　was　long
  a　legend；　or　rather　a　source　of　legends；　in　the　Parliament　House。　　He
  was　described　coming；　rosy　with　much　port；　into　the　drawing…room；
  walking　direct　up　to　the　lady；　and　assailing　her　with　pleasantries；　to
  which　the　embarrassed　fair　one　responded；　in　what　seemed　a　kind　of
  agony；　〃Eh；　Mr。　Weir！〃　or　〃O；　Mr。　Weir！〃　or　〃Keep　me；　Mr。　Weir！〃　　On　the
  very　eve　of　their　engagement；　it　was　related　that　one　had　drawn　near　to
  the　tender　couple；　and　had　overheard　the　lady　cry　out；　with　the　tones　of
  one　who　talked　for　the　sake　of　talking；　〃Keep　me；　Mr。　Weir；　and　what
  became　of　him？〃　and　the　profound　accents　of　the　suitor　reply；　〃Haangit；
  mem；　haangit。〃　　The　motives　upon　either　side　were　much　debated。　　Mr。
  Weir　must　have　supposed　his　bride　to　be　somehow　suitable；　perhaps　he
  belonged　to　that　class　of　men　who　think　a　weak　head　the　ornament　of
  women　…　an　opinion　invariably　punished　in　this　life。　　Her　descent　and
  her　estate　were　beyond　question。　　Her　wayfaring　ancestors　and　her
  litigious　father　had　done　well　by　Jean。　　There　was　ready　money　and　there
  were　broad　acres；　ready　to　fall　wholly　to　the　husband；　to　lend　dignity
  to　his　descendants；　and　to　himself　a　title；　when　he　should　be　called
  upon　the　Bench。　　On　the　side　of　Jean；　there　was　perhaps　some　fascination
  of　curiosity　as　to　this　unknown　male　animal　that　approached　her　with　the
  roughness　of　a　ploughman　and　the　APLOMB　of　an　advocate。　　Being　so
  trenchantly　opposed　to　all　she　knew；　loved；　or　understood；　he　may　well
  have　seemed　to　her　the　extreme；　if　scarcely　the　ideal；　of　his　sex。　　And
  besides；　he　was　an　ill　man　to　refuse。　　A　little　over　forty　at　the　period
  of　his　marriage；　he　looked　already　older；　and　to　the　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　hove