The court, however, did not forget the baffle they had received in this affair, and the Duke of Argyle, who had contributed so much to it, was thereafter considered as a person in disgrace. It is necessary to place these circumstances under the reader's observation, both because they are connected with the preceding and subsequent part of our narrative.
The Duke was alone in his study, when one of his gentlemen acquainted him, that a country-girl, from Scotland, was desirous of speaking with his Grace.
'A country-girl, and from Scotland!' said the Duke; 'what can have brought the silly fool to London?—Some lover pressed and sent to sea, or some stock sank in the South-Sea funds, or some such hopeful concern, I suppose, and then nobody to manage the matter but MacCallummore,—Well, this same popularity has its inconveniences.—However, show our countrywoman up, Archibald—it is ill manners to keep her in attendance.'
A young woman of rather low stature, and whose countenance might be termed very modest and pleasing in expression, though sun-burnt, somewhat freckled, and not possessing regular features, was ushered into the splendid library. She wore the tartan plaid of her country, adjusted so as partly to cover her head, and partly to fall back over her shoulders. A quantity of fair hair, disposed with great simplicity and neatness, appeared in front of her round and good-humoured face, to which the solemnity of her errand, and her sense of the Duke's rank and importance, gave an appearance of deep awe, but not of slavish fear, or fluttered bashfulness. The rest of Jeanie's dress was in the style of Scottish maidens of her own class; but arranged with that scrupulous attention to neatness and cleanliness, which we often find united with that purity of mind, of which it is a natural emblem.
She stopped near the entrance of the room, made her deepest reverence, and crossed her hands upon her bosom, without uttering a syllable. The Duke of Argyle advanced towards her; and, if she admired his graceful deportment and rich dress, decorated with the orders which had been deservedly bestowed on him, his courteous manner, and quick and intelligent cast of countenance, he on his part was not less, or less deservedly, struck with the quiet simplicity and modesty expressed in the dress, manners, and countenance of his humble countrywoman.
'Did you wish to speak with me, my bonny lass?' said the Duke, using the encouraging epithet which at once acknowledged the connection betwixt them as country-folk; 'or did you wish to see the Duchess?'
'My business is with your honour, my Lord—I mean your Lordship's Grace.'
'And what is it, my good girl?' said the Duke, in the same mild and encouraging tone of voice. Jeanie looked at the attendant. 'Leave us, Archibald,' said the Duke, 'and wait in the anteroom.' The domestic retired. 'And now sit down, my good lass,' said the Duke; 'take your breath—take your time, and tell me what you have got to say. I guess by your dress, you are just come up from poor Scotland—Did you come through the streets in your tartan plaid?'
'No, sir,' said Jeanie; 'a friend brought me in ane o' their street coaches—a very decent woman,' she added, her courage increasing as she became familiar with the sound of her own voice in such a presence; 'your Lordship's Grace kens her—it's Mrs. Glass, at the sign o' the Thistle.'
'O, my worthy snuff-merchant—I have always a chat with Mrs. Glass when I purchase my Scots high-dried. Well, but your business, my bonny woman—time and tide, you know, wait for no one.'
'Your honour—I beg your Lordship's pardon—I mean your Grace,'—for it must be noticed, that this matter of addressing the Duke by his appropriate title had been anxiously inculcated upon Jeanie by her friend Mrs. Glass, in whose eyes it was a matter of such importance, that her last words, as Jeanie left the coach, were, 'Mind to say your Grace;' and Jeanie, who had scarce ever in her life spoke to a person of higher quality than the Laird of Dumbiedikes, found great difficulty in arranging her language according to the rules of ceremony.
The Duke, who saw her embarrassment, said, with his usual affability, 'Never mind my grace, lassie; just speak out a plain tale, and show you have a Scots tongue in your head.'
'Sir, I am muckle obliged—Sir, I am the sister of that poor unfortunate criminal, Effie Deans, who is ordered for execution at Edinburgh.''
'Ah!' said the Duke, 'I have heard of that unhappy story, I think—a case of child-murder, under a special act of parliament—Duncan Forbes mentioned it at dinner the other day.'
'And I was come up frae the north, sir, to see what could be done for her in the way of getting a reprieve or pardon, sir, or the like of that.'
'Alas! my poor girl,' said the Duke; 'you have made a long and a sad journey to very little purpose—Your sister is ordered for execution.'
'But I am given to understand that there is law for reprieving her, if it is in the king's pleasure,' said Jeanie.
'Certainly, there is,' said the Duke; 'but that is purely in the king's breast. The crime has been but too common—the Scots crown-lawyers think it is right there should be an example. Then the late disorders in Edinburgh have excited a prejudice in government against the nation at large, which they think can only be managed by measures of intimidation and severity. What argument have you, my poor girl, except the warmth of your sisterly affection, to offer against all this?—What is your interest?—What friends have you at court?'
'None, excepting God and your Grace,' said Jeanie, still keeping her ground resolutely, however.
'Alas!' said the Duke, 'I could almost say with old Ormond, that there could not be any, whose influence was smaller with kings and ministers. It is a cruel part of our situation, young woman—I mean of the situation of men in my circumstances, that the public ascribe to them influence which they do not possess; and that individuals are led to expect from them assistance which we have no means of rendering. But candour and plain dealing is in the power of every one, and I must not let you imagine you have resources in my influence, which do not exist, to make your distress the heavier—I have no means of averting your sister's fate—She must die.'
'We must a' die, sir,' said Jeanie; 'it is our common doom for our father's transgression; but we shouldna hasten ilk other out o' the world, that's what your honour kens better than me.'
'My good young woman,' said the Duke, mildly, 'we are all apt to blame the law under which we immediately suffer; but you seem to have been well educated in your line of life, and you must know that it is alike the law of God and man, that the murderer shall surely die.'
'But, sir, Effie—that is, my poor sister, sir—canna be proved to be a murderer; and if she be not, and the law take her life notwithstanding, wha is it that is the murderer then?'
'I am no lawyer,' said the Duke; 'and I own I think the statute a very severe one.'
'You are a law-maker, sir, with your leave; and, therefore, ye have power over the law,' answered Jeanie.
'Not in my individual capacity,' said the Duke; 'though, as one of a large body, I have a voice in the legislation. But that cannot serve you—nor have I at present, I care not who knows it, so much personal influence with the sovereign, as would entitle me to ask from him the most insignificant favour. What could tempt you, young woman, to address yourself to me?'
'It was yourself, sir.'
'Myself?' he replied—'I am sure you have never seen me before.'
'No, sir; but a' the world kens that the Duke of Argyle is his country's friend; and that ye fight for the right, and speak for the right, and that there's nane like you in our present Israel, and so they that think themselves wranged draw to refuge under your shadow; and if ye wunna stir to save the blood of an innocent countrywoman of your ain, what should we expect frae southerns and strangers? And maybe I had another reason for troubling your honour.'
'And what is that?' asked the Duke.
'I hae understood from my father, that your honour's house, and especially your gudesire and his father, laid down their lives on the scaffold in the persecuting time. And my father was honoured to gie his testimony baith in the cage and in the pillory, as is specially mentioned in the books of Peter Walker the packman, that your honour, I dare say, kens, for he uses maist partly the westland of Scotland. And, sir, there's ane that takes concern in me, that wished me to gang to your Grace's presence, for his gudesire had done your gracious gudesire some good turn, as ye will see frae these papers.'
With these words, she delivered to the Duke the little parcel which she had received from Butler. He opened it, and, in the envelope, read with some surprise, ''Musterroll of the men serving in the troop of that godly gentleman, Captain Salathiel Bangtext.—Obadiah Muggleton, Sin-Despise Double-knock, Stand-fast-in-faith Gipps, Turn-to-the-right Thwack-away'— What the deuce is this? A list of Praise-God Barebone's Parliament I think, or of
