The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Volume 2 Read online

  CHAPTER THIRD

  What strange and wayward thoughts will slide Into a lover's head; "O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!" Wordsworth.

  In pursuing her solitary journey, our heroine, soon after passing thehouse of Dumbiedikes, gained a little eminence, from which, on looking tothe eastward down a prattling brook, whose meanders were shaded withstraggling widows and alder trees, she could see the cottages of Woodendand Beersheba, the haunts and habitation of her early life, and coulddistinguish the common on which she had so often herded sheep, and therecesses of the rivulet where she had pulled rushes with Butler, to plaitcrowns and sceptres for her sister Effie, then a beautiful but spoiledchild, of about three years old. The recollections which the scenebrought with them were so bitter, that, had she indulged them, she wouldhave sate down and relieved her heart with tears.

  "But I ken'd," said Jeanie, when she gave an account of her pilgrimage,"that greeting would do but little good, and that it was mair beseemingto thank the Lord, that had showed me kindness and countenance by meansof a man, that mony ca'd a Nabal, and churl, but wha was free of hisgudes to me, as ever the fountain was free of the stream. And I mindedthe Scripture about the sin of Israel at Meribah, when the peoplemurmured, although Moses had brought water from the dry rock that thecongregation might drink and live. Sae, I wad not trust mysell withanother look at puir Woodend, for the very blue reek that came out of thelum-head pat me in mind of the change of market days with us."

  In this resigned and Christian temper she pursued her journey until shewas beyond this place of melancholy recollections, and not distant fromthe village where Butler dwelt, which, with its old-fashioned church andsteeple, rises among a tuft of trees, occupying the ridge of an eminenceto the south of Edinburgh. At a quarter of a mile's distance is a clumsysquare tower, the residence of the Laird of Liberton, who, in formertimes, with the habits of the predatory chivalry of Germany, is saidfrequently to have annoyed the city of Edinburgh, by intercepting thesupplies and merchandise which came to the town from the southward.

  This village, its tower, and its church, did not lie precisely inJeanie's road towards England; but they were not much aside from it, andthe village was the abode of Butler. She had resolved to see him in thebeginning of her journey, because she conceived him the most properperson to write to her father concerning her resolution and her hopes.There was probably another reason latent in her affectionate bosom. Shewished once more to see the object of so early and so sincere anattachment, before commencing a pilgrimage, the perils of which she didnot disguise from herself, although she did not allow them so to pressupon her mind as to diminish the strength and energy of her resolution. Avisit to a lover from a young person in a higher rank of life thanJeanie's, would have had something forward and improper in its character.But the simplicity of her rural habits was unacquainted with thesepunctilious ideas of decorum, and no notion, therefore, of improprietycrossed her imagination, as, setting out upon a long journey, she went tobid adieu to an early friend.

  There was still another motive that pressed upon her mind with additionalforce as she approached the village. She had looked anxiously for Butlerin the courthouse, and had expected that, certainly, in some part of thateventful day, he would have appeared to bring such countenance andsupport as he could give to his old friend, and the protector of hisyouth, even if her own claims were laid aside.

  She know, indeed, that he was under a certain degree of restraint; butshe still had hoped that he would have found means to emancipate himselffrom it, at least for one day. In short, the wild and wayward thoughtswhich Wordsworth has described as rising in an absent lover'simagination, suggested, as the only explanation of his absence, thatButler must be very ill. And so much had this wrought on her imagination,that when she approached the cottage where her lover occupied a smallapartment, and which had been pointed out to her by a maiden with amilk-pail on her head, she trembled at anticipating the answer she mightreceive on inquiring for him.

  Her fears in this case had, indeed, only hit upon the truth. Butler,whose constitution was naturally feeble, did not soon recover the fatigueof body and distress of mind which he had suffered, in consequence of thetragical events with which our narrative commenced. The painful idea thathis character was breathed on by suspicion, was an aggravation to hisdistress.

  But the most cruel addition was the absolute prohibition laid by themagistrates on his holding any communication with Deans or his family. Ithad unfortunately appeared likely to them, that some intercourse might beagain attempted with that family by Robertson, through the medium ofButler, and this they were anxious to intercept, or prevent if possible.The measure was not meant as a harsh or injurious severity on the part ofthe magistrates; but, in Butler's circumstances, it pressed cruelly hard.He felt he must be suffering under the bad opinion of the person who wasdearest to him, from an imputation of unkind desertion, the most alien tohis nature.

  This painful thought, pressing on a frame already injured, brought on asuccession of slow and lingering feverish attacks, which greatly impairedhis health, and at length rendered him incapable even of the sedentaryduties of the school, on which his bread depended. Fortunately, old Mr.Whackbairn, who was the principal teacher of the little parochialestablishment, was sincerely attached to Butler. Besides that he wassensible of his merits and value as an assistant, which had greatlyraised the credit of his little school, the ancient pedagogue, who hadhimself been tolerably educated, retained some taste for classical lore,and would gladly relax, after the drudgery of the school was over, byconning over a few pages of Horace or Juvenal with his usher. Asimilarity of taste begot kindness, and accordingly he saw Butler'sincreasing debility with great compassion, roused up his own energies toteaching the school in the morning hours, insisted upon his assistant'sreposing himself at that period, and, besides, supplied him with suchcomforts as the patient's situation required, and his own means wereinadequate to compass.

  Such was Butler's situation, scarce able to drag himself to the placewhere his daily drudgery must gain his daily bread, and racked with athousand fearful anticipations concerning the fate of those who weredearest to him in the world, when the trial and condemnation of EffieDeans put the copestone upon his mental misery.

  He had a particular account of these events, from a fellow-student whoresided in the same village, and who, having been present on themelancholy occasion, was able to place it in all its agony of horrorsbefore his excruciated imagination. That sleep should have visited hiseyes after such a curfew-note, was impossible. A thousand dreadfulvisions haunted his imagination all night, and in the morning he wasawaked from a feverish slumber, by the only circumstance which could haveadded to his distress,--the visit of an intrusive ass.

  This unwelcome visitant was no other than Bartoline Saddletree. Theworthy and sapient burgher had kept his appointment at MacCroskie's withPlumdamas and some other neighbours, to discuss the Duke of Argyle'sspeech, the justice of Effie Deans's condemnation, and the improbabilityof her obtaining a reprieve. This sage conclave disputed high and drankdeep, and on the next morning Bartoline felt, as he expressed it, as ifhis head was like a "confused progress of writs."

  To bring his reflective powers to their usual serenity, Saddle-treeresolved to take a morning's ride upon a certain hackney, which he,Plumdamas, and another honest shopkeeper, combined to maintain by jointsubscription, for occasional jaunts for the purpose of business orexercise. As Saddletree had two children boarded with Whackbairn, andwas, as we have seen, rather fond of Butler's society, he turned hispalfrey's head towards Liberton, and came, as we have already said, togive the unfortunate usher that additional vexation, of which Imogenecomplains so feelingly, when she says,--

  "I'm sprighted with a fool-- Sprighted and anger'd worse."

  If anything could have added ga
ll to bitterness, it was the choice whichSaddletree made of a subject for his prosing harangues, being the trialof Effie Deans, and the probability of her being executed. Every wordfell on Butler's ear like the knell of a death-bell, or the note of ascreech-owl.

  Jeanie paused at the door of her lover's humble abode upon hearing theloud and pompous tones of Saddletree sounding from the inner apartment,"Credit me, it will be sae, Mr. Butler. Brandy cannot save her. She maungang down the Bow wi' the lad in the pioted coat* at her heels.--

  * The executioner, in livery of black or dark grey and silver, likened bylow wit to a magpie.

  I am sorry for the lassie, but the law, sir, maun hae its course--

  Vivat Rex, Currat Lex,

  as the poet has it, in whilk of Horace's odes I know not."

  Here Butler groaned, in utter impatience of the brutality and ignorancewhich Bartoline had contrived to amalgamate into one sentence. ButSaddletree, like other prosers, was blessed with a happy obtuseness ofperception concerning the unfavourable impression which he sometimes madeon his auditors. He proceeded to deal forth his scraps of legal knowledgewithout mercy, and concluded by asking Butler, with greatself-complacency, "Was it na a pity my father didna send me to Utrecht?Havena I missed the chance to turn out as _clarissimus_ an _ictus,_ asauld Grunwiggin himself?--Whatfor dinna ye speak, Mr. Butler? Wad I nohae been a _clarissimus ictus?_--Eh, man?"

  "I really do not understand you, Mr. Saddletree," said Butler, thuspushed hard for an answer. His faint and exhausted tone of voice wasinstantly drowned in the sonorous bray of Bartoline.

  "No understand me, man? _Ictus_ is Latin for a lawyer, is it not?"

  "Not that ever I heard of," answered Butler in the same dejected tone.

  "The deil ye didna!--See, man, I got the word but this morning out of amemorial of Mr. Crossmyloof's--see, there it is, _ictus clarissimus etperti--peritissimus_--it's a' Latin, for it's printed in the Italiantypes."

  "O, you mean _juris-consultus--Ictus_ is an abbreviation for_juris-consultus._"

  "Dinna tell me, man," persevered Saddletree, "there's nae abbreviatesexcept in adjudications; and this is a' about a servitude ofwater-drap--that is to say, _tillicidian_* (maybe ye'll say that's noLatin neither), in Mary King's Close in the High Street."

  * He meant, probably, _stillicidium._

  "Very likely," said poor Butler, overwhelmed by the noisy perseverance ofhis visitor. "Iam not able to dispute with you."

  "Few folk are--few folk are, Mr. Butler, though I say it that shouldnasay it," returned Bartoline with great delight. "Now, it will be twahours yet or ye're wanted in the schule, and as ye are no weel, I'll sitwi' you to divert ye, and explain t'ye the nature of a _tillicidian._ Yemaun ken, the petitioner, Mrs. Crombie, a very decent woman, is a friendof mine, and I hae stude her friend in this case, and brought her wi'credit into the court, and I doubtna that in due time she will win outo't wi' credit, win she or lose she. Ye see, being an inferior tenementor laigh house, we grant ourselves to be burdened wi' the _tillicide,_that is, that we are obligated to receive the natural water-drap of thesuperior tenement, sae far as the same fa's frae the heavens, or the roofof our neighbour's house, and from thence by the gutters or eaves uponour laigh tenement. But the other night comes a Highland quean of a lass,and she flashes, God kens what, out at the eastmost window of Mrs.MacPhail's house, that's the superior tenement. I believe the auld womenwad hae agreed, for Luckie MacPhail sent down the lass to tell my friendMrs. Crombie that she had made the gardyloo out of the wrang window, outof respect for twa Highlandmen that were speaking Gaelic in the closebelow the right ane. But luckily for Mrs. Crombie, I just chanced to comein in time to break aff the communing, for it's a pity the point suldnabe tried. We had Mrs. MacPhail into the Ten-Mark Court--The Hielandlimmer of a lass wanted to swear herself free--but haud ye there,says I."

  The detailed account of this important suit might have lasted until poorButler's hour of rest was completely exhausted, had not Saddletree beeninterrupted by the noise of voices at the door. The woman of the housewhere Butler lodged, on returning with her pitcher from the well, whenceshe had been fetching water for the family, found our heroine JeanieDeans standing at the door, impatient of the prolix harangue ofSaddletree, yet unwilling to enter until he should have taken his leave.

  The good woman abridged the period of hesitation by inquiring, "Was yewanting the gudeman or me, lass?"

  "I wanted to speak with Mr. Butler, if he's at leisure," replied Jeanie.

  "Gang in by then, my woman," answered the goodwife; and opening the doorof a room, she announced the additional visitor with, "Mr. Butler, here'sa lass wants to speak t'ye."

  The surprise of Butler was extreme, when Jeanie, who seldom stirredhalf-a-mile from home, entered his apartment upon this annunciation.

  "Good God!" he said, starting from his chair, while alarm restored to hischeek the colour of which sickness had deprived it; "some new misfortunemust have happened!"

  "None, Mr. Reuben, but what you must hae heard of--but oh, ye are lookingill yoursell!"--for the "hectic of a moment" had not concealed from heraffectionate eyes the ravages which lingering disease and anxiety of mindhad made in her lover's person.

  "No: I am well--quite well," said Butler with eagerness; "if I can doanything to assist you, Jeanie--or your father."

  "Ay, to be sure," said Saddletree; "the family may be considered aslimited to them twa now, just as if Effie had never been in the tailzie,puir thing. But, Jeanie lass, what brings you out to Liberton sae air inthe morning, and your father lying ill in the Luckenbooths?"

  "I had a message frae my father to Mr. Butler," said Jeanie withembarrassment; but instantly feeling ashamed of the fiction to which shehad resorted, for her love of and veneration for truth was almostQuaker-like, she corrected herself--"That is to say, I wanted to speakwith Mr. Butler about some business of my father's and puir Effie's."

  "Is it law business?" said Bartoline; "because if it be, ye had bettertake my opinion on the subject than his."

  "It is not just law business," said Jeanie, who saw considerableinconvenience might arise from letting Mr. Saddletree into the secretpurpose of her journey; "but I want Mr. Butler to write a letter for me."

  "Very right," said Mr. Saddletree; "and if ye'll tell me what it isabout, I'll dictate to Mr. Butler as Mr. Crossmyloof does to hisclerk.--Get your pen and ink in initialibus, Mr. Butler."

  Jeanie looked at Butler, and wrung her hands with vexation andimpatience.

  "I believe, Mr. Saddletree," said Butler, who saw the necessity ofgetting rid of him at all events, "that Mr. Whackbairn will be somewhataffronted if you do not hear your boys called up to their lessons."

  "Indeed, Mr. Butler, and that's as true; and I promised to ask a halfplay-day to the schule, so that the bairns might gang and see thehanging, which canna but have a pleasing effect on their young minds,seeing there is no knowing what they may come to themselves.--Odd so, Ididna mind ye were here, Jeanie Deans; but ye maun use yoursell to hearthe matter spoken o'.--Keep Jeanie here till I come back, Mr. Butler; Iwinna bide ten minutes."

  And with this unwelcome assurance of an immediate return, he relievedthem of the embarrassment of his presence.

  "Reuben," said Jeanie, who saw the necessity of using the interval of hisabsence in discussing what had brought her there, "I am bound on a langjourney--I am gaun to Lunnon to ask Effie's life of the king and of thequeen."

  "Jeanie! you are surely not yourself," answered Butler, in the utmostsurprise;--"_you_ go to London--_you_ address the king and queen!"

  "And what for no, Reuben?" said Jeanie, with all the composed simplicityof her character; "it's but speaking to a mortal man and woman when a' isdone. And their hearts maun be made o' flesh and blood like other folk's,and Effie's story wad melt them were they stane. Forby, I hae heard thatthey are no sic bad folk as what the Jacobites ca' them."

  "Yes, Jeanie," said Butler; "but their magn
ificence--their retinue--thedifficulty of getting audience?"

  "I have thought of a' that, Reuben, and it shall not break my spirit. Naedoubt their claiths will be very grand, wi' their crowns on their heads,and their sceptres in their hands, like the great King Ahasuerus when hesate upon his royal throne fornent the gate of his house, as we are toldin Scripture. But I have that within me that will keep my heart fromfailing, and I am amaist sure that I will be strengthened to speak theerrand I came for."

  "Alas! alas!" said Butler, "the kings now-a-days do not sit in the gateto administer justice, as in patriarchal times. I know as little ofcourts as you do, Jeanie, by experience; but by reading and report Iknow, that the King of Britain does everything by means of hisministers."

  "And if they be upright, God-fearing ministers," said Jeanie, "it's saemuckle the better chance for Effie and me."

  "But you do not even understand the most ordinary words relating to acourt," said Butler; "by the ministry is meant not clergymen, but theking's official servants."

  "Nae doubt," returned Jeanie, "he maun hae a great number mair, I daur tosay, than the duchess has at Dalkeith, and great folk's servants are ayemair saucy than themselves. But I'll be decently put on, and I'll offerthem a trifle o' siller, as if I came to see the palace. Or, if theyscruple that, I'll tell them I'm come on a business of life and death,and then they will surely bring me to speech of the king and queen?"

  Butler shook his head. "O Jeanie, this is entirely a wild dream. You cannever see them but through some great lord's intercession, and I think itis scarce possible even then."

  "Weel, but maybe I can get that too," said Jeanie, "with a little helpingfrom you."

  "From me, Jeanie! this is the wildest imagination of all."

  "Ay, but it is not, Reuben. Havena I heard you say, that your grandfather(that my father never likes to hear about) did some gude langsyne to theforbear of this MacCallummore, when he was Lord of Lorn?"

  "He did so," said Butler, eagerly, "and I can prove it.--I will write tothe Duke of Argyle--report speaks him a good kindly man, as he is knownfor a brave soldier and true patriot--I will conjure him to stand betweenyour sister and this cruel fate. There is but a poor chance of success,but we will try all means."

  "We _must_ try all means," replied Jeanie; "but writing winna do it--aletter canna look, and pray, and beg, and beseech, as the human voice cando to the human heart. A letter's like the music that the ladies have fortheir spinets--naething but black scores, compared to the same tuneplayed or sung. It's word of mouth maun do it, or naething, Reuben."

  "You are right," said Reuben, recollecting his firmness, "and I will hopethat Heaven has suggested to your kind heart and firm courage the onlypossible means of saving the life of this unfortunate girl. But, Jeanie,you must not take this most perilous journey alone; I have an interest inyou, and I will not agree that my Jeanie throws herself away. You musteven, in the present circumstances, give me a husband's right to protectyou, and I will go with you myself on this journey, and assist you to doyour duty by your family."

  "Alas, Reuben!" said Jeanie in her turn, "this must not be; a pardon willnot gie my sister her fair fame again, or make me a bride fitting for anhonest man and an usefu' minister. Wha wad mind what he said in thepu'pit, that had to wife the sister of a woman that was condemned for sicwickedness?"

  "But, Jeanie," pleaded her lover, "I do not believe, and I cannotbelieve, that Effie has done this deed."

  "Heaven bless ye for saying sae, Reuben," answered Jeanie; "but she maunbear the blame o't after all."

  "But the blame, were it even justly laid on her, does not fall on you."

  "Ah, Reuben, Reuben," replied the young woman, "ye ken it is a blot thatspreads to kith and kin.--Ichabod--as my poor father says--the glory isdeparted from our house; for the poorest man's house has a glory, wherethere are true hands, a divine heart, and an honest fame--And the lasthas gane frae us a."

  "But, Jeanie, consider your word and plighted faith to me; and would youundertake such a journey without a man to protect you?--and who shouldthat protector be but your husband?"

  "You are kind and good, Reuben, and wad take me wi' a' my shame, Idoubtna. But ye canna but own that this is no time to marry or be givenin marriage. Na, if that suld ever be, it maun be in another and a betterseason.--And, dear Reuben, ye speak of protecting me on my journey--Alas!who will protect and take care of you?--your very limbs tremble withstanding for ten minutes on the floor; how could you undertake a journeyas far as Lunnon?"

  "But I am strong--I am well," continued Butler, sinking in his seattotally exhausted, "at least I shall be quite well to-morrow."

  "Ye see, and ye ken, ye maun just let me depart," said Jeanie, after apause; and then taking his extended hand, and gazing kindly in his face,she added, "It's e'en a grief the mair to me to see you in this way. Butye maun keep up your heart for Jeanie's sake, for if she isna your wife,she will never be the wife of living man. And now gie me the paper forMacCallummore, and bid God speed me on my way."

  There was something of romance in Jeanie's venturous resolution; yet, onconsideration, as it seemed impossible to alter it by persuasion, or togive her assistance but by advice, Butler, after some farther debate, putinto her hands the paper she desired, which, with the muster-roll inwhich it was folded up, were the sole memorials of the stout andenthusiastic Bible Butler, his grandfather. While Butler sought thisdocument, Jeanie had time to take up his pocket Bible. "I have marked ascripture," she said, as she again laid it down, "with your kylevine pen,that will be useful to us baith. And ye maun tak the trouble, Reuben, towrite a' this to my father, for, God help me, I have neither head norhand for lang letters at ony time, forby now; and I trust him entirely toyou, and I trust you will soon be permitted to see him. And, Reuben, whenye do win to the speech o' him, mind a' the auld man's bits o' ways, forJeanie's sake; and dinna speak o' Latin or English terms to him, for he'so' the auld warld, and downa bide to be fashed wi' them, though I daresayhe may be wrang. And dinna ye say muckle to him, but set him on speakinghimself, for he'll bring himsell mair comfort that way. And O, Reuben,the poor lassie in yon dungeon!--but I needna bid your kind heart--gieher what comfort ye can as soon as they will let ye see her--tellher--But I maunna speak mair about her, for I maunna take leave o' yewi' the tear in my ee, for that wouldna be canny.--God bless ye, Reuben!"

  To avoid so ill an omen she left the room hastily, while her features yetretained the mournful and affectionate smile which she had compelled themto wear, in order to support Butler's spirits.

  It seemed as if the power of sight, of speech, and of reflection, hadleft him as she disappeared from the room, which she had entered andretired from so like an apparition. Saddletree, who entered immediatelyafterwards, overwhelmed him with questions, which he answered withoutunderstanding them, and with legal disquisitions, which conveyed to himno iota of meaning. At length the learned burgess recollected that therewas a Baron Court to be, held at Loanhead that day, and though it washardly worth while, "he might as weel go to see if there was onythingdoing, as he was acquainted with the baron bailie, who was a decent man,and would be glad of a word of legal advice."

  So soon as he departed, Butler flew to the Bible, the last book whichJeanie had touched. To his extreme surprise, a paper, containing two orthree pieces of gold, dropped from the book. With a black-lead pencil,she had marked the sixteenth and twenty-fifth verses of thethirty-seventh Psalm,--"A little that a righteous man hath, is betterthan the riches of the wicked."--"I have been young and am now old, yethave I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging theirbread."

  Deeply impressed with the affectionate delicacy which shrouded its owngenerosity under the cover of a providential supply to his wants, hepressed the gold to his lips with more ardour than ever the metal wasgreeted with by a miser. To emulate her devout firmness and confidenceseemed now the pitch of his ambition, and his first task was to write anaccount to David Deans of his daughter's resolution and journeysouthward
. He studied every sentiment, and even every phrase, which hethought could reconcile the old man to her extraordinary resolution. Theeffect which this epistle produced will be hereafter adverted to. Butlercommitted it to the charge of an honest clown, who had frequent dealingswith Deans in the sale of his dairy produce, and who readily undertook ajourney to Edinburgh to put the letter into his own hands.*

  * By dint of assiduous research I am enabled to certiorate the reader,that the name of this person was Saunders Broadfoot, and that he dealt inthe wholesome commodity called kirn-milk (_Anglice',_ butter-milk).--J. C.

  CHAPTER FOURTH.