“Na, Laird,” Jeanie replied, endeavouring as much as she could to express herself with composure, notwithstanding she still trembled, “I canna gang in—I have a lang day’s darg afore me—I maun be twenty mile o’ gate the night yet, if feet will carry me.”
“Guide and deliver us!—twenty mile—twenty mile on your feet!” ejaculated Dumbiedikes, whose walks were of a very circumscribed diameter,—“Ye maun never think o’ that—come in by.”
“I canna do that, Laird,” replied Jeanie; “the twa words I have to say to ye I can say here; forby that Mrs. Balchristie—”
“The deil flee awa wi’ Mrs. Balchristie,” said Dumbiedikes, “and he’ll hae a heavy lading o’ her! I tell ye, Jeanie Deans, I am a man of few words, but I am laird at hame, as well as in the field; deil a brute or body about my house but I can manage when I like, except Rory Bean, my powny; but I can seldom be at the plague, an it binna when my bluid’s up.”
“I was wanting to say to ye, Laird,” said Jeanie, who felt the necessity of entering upon her business, “that I was gaun a lang journey, outby of my father’s knowledge.”
“Outby his knowledge, Jeanie!—Is that right? Ye maun think ot again—it’s no right,” said Dumbiedikes, with a countenance of great concern.
“If I were ance at Lunnon,” said Jeanie, in exculpation, “I am amaist sure I could get means to speak to the queen about my sister’s life.”
“Lunnon—and the queen—and her sister’s life!” said Dumbiedikes, whistling for very amazement—“the lassie’s demented.”
“I am no out o’ my mind,” said she, “and sink or swim, I am determined to gang to Lunnon, if I suld beg my way frae door to door—and so I maun, unless ye wad lend me a small sum to pay my expenses—little thing will do it; and ye ken my father’s a man of substance, and wad see nae man, far less you, Laird, come to loss by me.”
Dumbiedikes, on comprehending the nature of this application, could scarce trust his ears—he made no answer whatever, but stood with his eyes rivetted on the ground.