“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?”