“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 old Noll’s evangelical army—that last fellow should understand his wheelings, to judge by his name.—But what does all this mean, my girl?”
“It was the other paper, sir,” said Jeanie, somewhat abashed at the mistake.
“O, this is my unfortunate grandfather’s hand sure enough—‘To all who may have friendship for the house of Argyle, these are to certify, that Benjamin Butler, of Monk’s regiment of dragoons, having been, under God, the means of saving my life from four English troopers who were about, to slay me, I, having no other present means of recompense in my power, do give him this acknowledgment, hoping that it may be useful to him or his during these troublesome times; and do conjure my friends, tenants, kinsmen, and whoever will do aught for me, either in the Highlands or Lowlands, to protect and assist the said Benjamin Butler, and his friends or family, on their lawful occasions, giving them such countenance, maintenance, and supply, as may correspond with the benefit he hath bestowed on me; witness my hand—Lorne.’
“This is a strong injunction—This Benjamin Butler was your grandfather, I suppose?—You seem too young to have been his daughter.”
“He was nae akin to me, sir—he was grandfather to ane—to a neighbour’s son—to a sincere weel-wisher of mine, sir,” dropping her little courtesy as she spoke.
“O, I understand,” said the Duke—“a true-love affair. He was the grandsire of one you are engaged to?”
“One I was engaged to, sir,” said Jeanie, sighing; “but this unhappy business of my poor sister—”