Mrs. Glass was equally surprised at her cousin’s reluctance to stir abroad, and her indifference to the fine sights of London. “It would always help to pass away the time,” she said, “to have something to look at, though ane was in distress.” But Jeanie was unpersuadable.
The day after her interview with the Duke was spent in that “hope delayed, which maketh the heart sick.” Minutes glided after minutes—hours fled after hours—it became too late to have any reasonable expectation of hearing from the Duke that day; yet the hope which she disowned, she could not altogether relinquish, and her heart throbbed, and her ears tingled, with every casual sound in the shop below. It was in vain. The day wore away in the anxiety of protracted and fruitless expectation.
The next morning commenced in the same manner. But before noon, a well-dressed gentleman entered Mrs. Glass’s shop, and requested to see a young woman from Scotland.
“That will be my cousin Jeanie Deans, Mr. Archibald,” said Mrs. Glass, with a courtesy of recognisance. “Have you any message for her from his Grace the Duke of Argyle, Mr. Archibald? I will carry it to her in a moment.”
“I believe I must give her the trouble of stepping down, Mrs. Glass.”
“Jeanie—Jeanie Deans!” said Mrs. Glass, screaming at the bottom of the little staircase, which ascended from the corner of the shop to the higher regions. “Jeanie—Jeanie Deans, I say! come down stairs instantly; here is the Duke of Argyle’s groom of the chambers desires to see you directly.” This was announced in a voice so loud, as to make all who chanced to be within hearing aware of the important communication.
It may easily be supposed, that Jeanie did not tarry long in adjusting herself to attend the summons, yet her feet almost failed her as she came down stairs.
“I must ask the favour of your company a little way,” said Archibald, with civility.
“I am quite ready, sir,” said Jeanie.
“Is my cousin going out, Mr. Archibald? then I will hae to go wi’ her, no doubt.—James Rasper—Look to the shop, James.—Mr. Archibald,” pushing a jar towards him, “you take his Grace’s mixture, I think. Please to fill your box, for old acquaintance’ sake, while I get on my things.”