"You deserve leather, for you know what I think about a man's position quite well. If he allow himself to be governed by his wife in serious matters, he is not worth calling a man." "Like poor Major Macintosh." "Exactly. What an abject he was before that woman, who was simply--" "Not a besom, Kate," interrupted the General, anxiously--afraid that a classical word was to be misused. "Certainly not, for a besom must be nice, and at bottom a lady--in fact, a woman of decided character." "Quite so. You 've hit the bull's-eye, Kit, and paid a neat compliment to yourself. Have you a word for Mrs. Macintosh?" "A vulgar termagant"--the General indicated that would do--"who would call her husband an idiot aloud before a dinner-table, and quarrel like a fishwife with people in his presence. "Why, he daren't call his soul his own; he belonged to the kirk, you know, and there was a Scotch padre, but she marched him off to our service, and if you had seen him trying to find the places in the Prayer-book. If a man has n't courage enough to stand by his faith, he might as well go and hang himself. Don't you think the first thing is to stick by your religion, and the next by your country, though it cost one his life?" "That's it, lassie; every gentleman does." "She was a disgusting woman," continued Kate, "and jingling with money: I never saw so many precious stones wasted on one woman; they always reminded me of a jewel in a swine's snout." "Kate!" remonstrated her father, "that's . . ." "Rather coarse, but it's her blame; and to hear Mrs. Macintosh calculating what each officer had--I told her we would live in a Lodge at home and raise our own food. My opinion is that her father was a publican, and I 'm sure she had once been a Methodist." "Why?" "Because she was so Churchy, always talking about celebrations and vigils, and explaining that it was a sin to listen to a Dissenting chaplain." "Then, Kate, if your man--as they say here--tried to make you hold his views?" "I wouldn't, and I'd hate him." "And if he accepted yours?" "I 'd despise him," replied Kate, promptly. "You are a perfect contradiction." "You mean I 'm a woman, and a besom, and therefore I don't pretend to be consistent or logical, or even fair, but I am right." Then they went up the west tower to the General's room, and looked out on the woods and the river, and on a field of ripe corn upon the height across the river, flooded with the moonlight. "Home at last, lassie, you and I, and another not far off, maybe." Kate kissed her father, and said, "One in love, dad . . . and faith." CHAPTER VI. A PLEASAUNCE.