The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Volume 2

  CHAPTER NINTH.

  Fantastic passions' maddening brawl! And shame and terror over all! Deeds to be hid which were not hid, Which, all confused, I could not know Whether I suffer'd or I did, For all seem'd guilt, remorse, or woe; My own, or others, still the same Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame. Coleridge.

  During the interval while she was thus left alone, Jeanie anxiouslyrevolved in her mind what course was best for her to pursue. She wasimpatient to continue her journey, yet she feared she could not safelyadventure to do so while the old hag and her assistants were in theneighbourhood, without risking a repetition of their violence. Shethought she could collect from the conversation which she had partlyoverheard, and also from the wild confessions of Madge Wildfire, that hermother had a deep and revengeful motive for obstructing her journey ifpossible. And from whom could she hope for assistance if not from Mr.Staunton? His whole appearance and demeanour seemed to encourage herhopes. His features were handsome, though marked with a deep cast ofmelancholy; his tone and language were gentle and encouraging; and, as hehad served in the army for several years during his youth, his airretained that easy frankness which is peculiar to the profession of arms.He was, besides, a minister of the gospel; and, although a worshipper,according to Jeanie's notions, in the court of the Gentiles, and sobenighted as to wear a surplice; although he read the Common Prayer, andwrote down every word of his sermon before delivering it; and although hewas, moreover, in strength of lungs, as well as pith and marrow ofdoctrine, vastly inferior to Boanerges Stormheaven, Jeanie still thoughthe must be a very different person from Curate Kilstoup, and otherprelatical divines of her father's earlier days, who used to get drunk intheir canonical dress, and hound out the dragoons against the wanderingCameronians. The house seemed to be in some disturbance, but as she couldnot suppose she was altogether forgotten, she thought it better to remainquiet in the apartment where she had been left, till some one should takenotice of her.

  The first who entered was, to her no small delight, one of her own sex, amotherly-looking aged person of a housekeeper. To her Jeanie explainedher situation in a few words, and begged her assistance.

  The dignity of a housekeeper did not encourage too much familiarity witha person who was at the Rectory on justice-business, and whose charactermight seem in her eyes somewhat precarious; but she was civil, althoughdistant.

  "Her young master," she said, "had had a bad accident by a fall from hishorse, which made him liable to fainting fits; he had been taken very illjust now, and it was impossible his Reverence could see Jeanie for sometime; but that she need not fear his doing all that was just and properin her behalf the instant he could get her business attended to."--Sheconcluded by offering to show Jeanie a room, where she might remain tillhis Reverence was at leisure.

  Our heroine took the opportunity to request the means of adjusting andchanging her dress.

  The housekeeper, in whose estimation order and cleanliness ranked highamong personal virtues, gladly complied with a request so reasonable; andthe change of dress which Jeanie's bundle furnished made so important animprovement in her appearance, that the old lady hardly knew the soiledand disordered traveller, whose attire showed the violence she hadsustained, in the neat, clean, quiet-looking little Scotch-woman, who nowstood before her. Encouraged by such a favourable alteration in herappearance, Mrs. Dalton ventured to invite Jeanie to partake of herdinner, and was equally pleased with the decent propriety of her conductduring the meal.

  "Thou canst read this book, canst thou, young woman?" said the old lady,when their meal was concluded, laying her hand upon a large Bible.

  "I hope sae, madam," said Jeanie, surprised at the question "my fatherwad hae wanted mony a thing ere I had wanted _that_ schuling."

  "The better sign of him, young woman. There are men here, well to pass inthe world, would not want their share of a Leicester plover, and that's abag-pudding, if fasting for three hours would make all their poorchildren read the Bible from end to end. Take thou the book, then, for myeyes are something dazed, and read where thou listest--it's the only bookthou canst not happen wrong in."

  Jeanie was at first tempted to turn up the parable of the good Samaritan,but her conscience checked her, as if it were a use of Scripture, not forher own edification, but to work upon the mind of others for the reliefof her worldly afflictions; and under this scrupulous sense of duty, sheselected, in preference, aCHAPTER of the prophet Isaiah, and read it,notwithstanding her northern' accent and tone, with a devout propriety,which greatly edified Mrs. Dalton.

  "Ah," she said, "an all Scotchwomen were sic as thou but it was our luckto get born devils of thy country, I think--every one worse than t'other.If thou knowest of any tidy lass like thysell that wanted a place, andcould bring a good character, and would not go laiking about to wakes andfairs, and wore shoes and stockings all the day round--why, I'll not saybut we might find room for her at the Rectory. Hast no cousin or sister,lass, that such an offer would suit?"

  This was touching upon a sore point, but Jeanie was spared the pain ofreplying by the entrance of the same man-servant she had seen before.

  "Measter wishes to see the young woman from Scotland," was Tummas'saddress.

  "Go to his Reverence, my dear, as fast as you can, and tell him all yourstory--his Reverence is a kind man," said Mrs. Dalton. "I will fold downthe leaf, and wake you a cup of tea, with some nice muffin, against youcome down, and that's what you seldom see in Scotland, girl."

  "Measter's waiting for the young woman," said Tummas impatiently.

  "Well, Mr. Jack-Sauce, and what is your business to put in your oar?--Andhow often must I tell you to call Mr. Staunton his Reverence, seeing ashe is a dignified clergyman, and not be meastering, meastering him, as ifhe were a little petty squire?"

  As Jeanie was now at the door, and ready to accompany Tummas, the footmansaid nothing till he got into the passage, when he muttered, "There aremoe masters than one in this house, and I think we shall have a mistresstoo, an Dame Dalton carries it thus."

  Tummas led the way through a more intricate range of passages than Jeaniehad yet threaded, and ushered her into an apartment which was darkened bythe closing of most of the window-shutters, and in which was a bed withthe curtains partly drawn.

  "Here is the young woman, sir," said Tummas.

  "Very well," said a voice from the bed, but not that of his Reverence;"be ready to answer the bell, and leave the room."

  "There is some mistake," said Jeanie, confounded at finding herself inthe apartment of an invalid; "the servant told me that the minister"

  "Don't trouble yourself," said the invalid, "there is no mistake. I knowmore of your affairs than my father, and I can manage them better.--Leavethe room, Tom." The servant obeyed.--"We must not," said the invalid,"lose time, when we have little to lose. Open the shutters of thatwindow."

  She did so, and as he drew aside the curtain of his bed, the light fellon his pale countenance, as, turban'd with bandages, and dressed in anight-gown, he lay, seemingly exhausted, upon the bed.

  "Look at me," he said, "Jeanie Deans; can you not recollect me?"

  "No, sir," said she, full of surprise. "I was never in this countrybefore."

  "But I may have been in yours. Think--recollect. I should faint did Iname the name you are most dearly bound to loathe and to detest.Think--remember!"

  A terrible recollection flashed on Jeanie, which every tone of thespeaker confirmed, and which his next words rendered certainty.

  "Be composed--remember Muschat's Cairn, and the moonlight night!"

  Jeanie sunk down on a chair with clasped hands, and gasped in agony.

  "Yes, here I lie," he said, "like a crushed snake, writhing withimpatience at my incapacity of motion--here I lie, when I ought to havebeen in Edinburgh, trying every means to save a life that is dear
er to methan my own.--How is your sister?--how fares it with her?--condemned todeath, I know it, by this time! O, the horse that carried me safely on athousand errands of folly and wickedness, that he should have broke downwith me on the only good mission I have undertaken for years! But I mustrein in my passion--my frame cannot endure it, and I have much to say.Give me some of the cordial which stands on that table.--Why do youtremble? But you have too good cause.--Let it stand--I need it not."

  Jeanie, however reluctant, approached him with the cup into which she hadpoured the draught, and could not forbear saying, "There is a cordial forthe mind, sir, if the wicked will turn from their transgressions, andseek to the Physician of souls."

  "Silence!" he said sternly--"and yet I thank you. But tell me, and loseno time in doing so, what you are doing in this country? Remember, thoughI have been your sister's worst enemy, yet I will serve her with the bestof my blood, and I will serve you for her sake; and no one can serve youto such purpose, for no one can know the circumstances so well--so speakwithout fear."

  "I am not afraid, sir," said Jeanie, collecting her spirits. "I trust inGod; and if it pleases Him to redeem my sister's captivity, it is all Iseek, whosoever be the instrument. But, sir, to be plain with you, I darenot use your counsel, unless I were enabled to see that it accords withthe law which I must rely upon."

  "The devil take the Puritan!" cried George Staunton, for so we must nowcall him--"I beg your pardon; but I am naturally impatient, and you driveme mad! What harm can it possibly do to tell me in what situation yoursister stands, and your own expectations of being able to assist her? Itis time enough to refuse my advice when I offer any which you may thinkimproper. I speak calmly to you, though 'tis against my nature; but don'turge me to impatience--it will only render me incapable of servingEffie."

  There was in the looks and words of this unhappy young man a sort ofrestrained eagerness and impetuosity which seemed to prey upon itself, asthe impatience of a fiery steed fatigues itself with churning upon thebit. After a moment's consideration, it occurred to Jeanie that she wasnot entitled to withhold from him, whether on her sister's account or herown, the fatal account of the consequences of the crime which he hadcommitted, nor to reject such advice, being in itself lawful andinnocent, as he might be able to suggest in the way of remedy.Accordingly, in as few words as she could express it, she told thehistory of her sister's trial and condemnation, and of her own journey asfar as Newark. He appeared to listen in the utmost agony of mind, yetrepressed every violent symptom of emotion, whether by gesture or sound,which might have interrupted the speaker, and, stretched on his couchlike the Mexican monarch on his bed of live coals, only the contortionsof his cheek, and the quivering of his limbs, gave indication of hissufferings. To much of what she said he listened with stifled groans, asif he were only hearing those miseries confirmed, whose fatal reality hehad known before; but when she pursued her tale through the circumstanceswhich had interrupted her journey, extreme surprise and earnest attentionappeared to succeed to the symptoms of remorse which he had beforeexhibited. He questioned Jeanie closely concerning the appearance of thetwo men, and the conversation which she had overheard between the tallerof them and the woman.

  When Jeanie mentioned the old woman having alluded to her foster-son--"Itis too true," he said; "and the source from which I derived food, when aninfant, must have communicated to me the wretched--the fated--propensityto vices that were strangers in my own family.--But go on."

  Jeanie passed slightly over her journey in company with Madge, having noinclination to repeat what might be the effect of mere raving on the partof her companion, and therefore her tale was now closed.

  Young Staunton lay for a moment in profound meditation and at lengthspoke with more composure than he had yet displayed during theirinterview.--"You are a sensible, as well as a good young woman, JeanieDeans, and I will tell you more of my story than I have told to any one.--Story did I call it?--it is a tissue of folly, guilt, and misery.--Buttake notice--I do it because I desire your confidence in return--that is,that you will act in this dismal matter by my advice and direction.Therefore do I speak."

  "I will do what is fitting for a sister, and a daughter, and a Christianwoman to do," said Jeanie; "but do not tell me any of your secrets.--Itis not good that I should come into your counsel, or listen to thedoctrine which causeth to err."

  "Simple fool!" said the young man. "Look at me. My head is not horned, myfoot is not cloven, my hands are not garnished with talons; and, since Iam not the very devil himself, what interest can any one else have indestroying the hopes with which you comfort or fool yourself? Listen tome patiently, and you will find that, when you have heard my counsel, youmay go to the seventh heaven with it in your pocket, if you have a mind,and not feel yourself an ounce heavier in the ascent."

  At the risk of being somewhat heavy, as explanations usually prove, wemust here endeavour to combine into a distinct narrative, informationwhich the invalid communicated in a manner at once too circumstantial,and too much broken by passion, to admit of our giving his precise words.Part of it indeed he read from a manuscript, which he had perhaps drawnup for the information of his relations after his decease.

  "To make my tale short--this wretched hag--this Margaret Murdockson, wasthe wife of a favourite servant of my father--she had been my nurse--herhusband was dead--she resided in a cottage near this place--she had adaughter who grew up, and was then a beautiful but very giddy girl; hermother endeavoured to promote her marriage with an old and wealthy churlin the neighbourhood--the girl saw me frequently--She was familiar withme, as our connection seemed to permit--and I--in a word, I wronged hercruelly--It was not so bad as your sister's business, but it wassufficiently villanous--her folly should have been her protection. Soonafter this I was sent abroad--To do my father justice, if I have turnedout a fiend it is not his fault--he used the best means. When I returned,I found the wretched mother and daughter had fallen into disgrace, andwere chased from this country.--My deep share in their shame and miserywas discovered--my father used very harsh language--we quarrelled. I lefthis house, and led a life of strange adventure, resolving never again tosee my father or my father's home.

  "And now comes the story!--Jeanie, I put my life into your hands, and notonly my own life, which, God knows, is not worth saving, but thehappiness of a respectable old man, and the honour of a family ofconsideration. My love of low society, as such propensities as I wascursed with are usually termed, was, I think of an uncommon kind, andindicated a nature, which, if not depraved by early debauchery, wouldhave been fit for better things. I did not so much delight in the wildrevel, the low humour, the unconfined liberty of those with whom Iassociated as in the spirit of adventure, presence of mind in peril, andsharpness of intellect which they displayed in prosecuting theirmaraudings upon the revenue, or similar adventures.--Have you lookedround this rectory?--is it not a sweet and pleasant retreat?"

  Jeanie, alarmed at this sudden change of subject, replied in theaffirmative.

  "Well! I wish it had been ten thousand fathoms under ground, with itschurch-lands, and tithes, and all that belongs to it. Had it not been forthis cursed rectory, I should have been permitted to follow the bent ofmy own inclinations and the profession of arms, and half the courage andaddress that I have displayed among smugglers and deer-stealers wouldhave secured me an honourable rank among my contemporaries. Why did I notgo abroad when I left this house!--Why did I leave it at all!--why--Butit came to that point with me that it is madness to look back, and miseryto look forward!"

  He paused, and then proceeded with more composure.

  "The chances of a wandering life brought me unhappily to Scotland, toembroil myself in worse and more criminal actions than I had yet beenconcerned in. It was now I became acquainted with Wilson, a remarkableman in his station of life; quiet, composed, and resolute, firm in mind,and uncommonly strong in person, gifted with a sort of rough eloquencewhich raised him above his companions. Hitherto I had been
r />   As dissolute as desperate, yet through both Were seen some sparkles of a better hope.

  "But it was this man's misfortune, as well as mine, that, notwithstandingthe difference of our rank and education, he acquired an extraordinaryand fascinating influence over me, which I can only account for by thecalm determination of his character being superior to the less sustainedimpetuosity of mine. Where he led I felt myself bound to follow; andstrange was the courage and address which he displayed in his pursuits.While I was engaged in desperate adventures, under so strange anddangerous a preceptor, I became acquainted with your unfortunate sisterat some sports of the young people in the suburbs, which she frequentedby stealth--and her ruin proved an interlude to the tragic scenes inwhich I was now deeply engaged. Yet this let me say--the villany was notpremeditated, and I was firmly resolved to do her all the justice whichmarriage could do, so soon as I should be able to extricate myself frommy unhappy course of life, and embrace some one more suited to my birth.I had wild visions--visions of conducting her as if to some poor retreat,and introducing her at once to rank and fortune she never dreamt of. Afriend, at my request, attempted a negotiation with my father, which wasprotracted for some time, and renewed at different intervals. At length,and just when I expected my father's pardon, he learned by some means orother my infamy, painted in even exaggerated colours, which was, Godknows, unnecessary. He wrote me a letter--how it found me out I knownot--enclosing me a sum of money, and disowning me for ever. I becamedesperate--I became frantic--I readily joined Wilson in a periloussmuggling adventure in which we miscarried, and was willingly blinded byhis logic to consider the robbery of the officer of the customs in Fifeas a fair and honourable reprisal. Hitherto I had observed a certain linein my criminality, and stood free of assaults upon personal property, butnow I felt a wild pleasure in disgracing myself as much as possible.

  "The plunder was no object to me. I abandoned that to my comrades, andonly asked the post of danger. I remember well that when I stood with mydrawn sword guarding the door while they committed the felony, I had nota thought of my own safety. I was only meditating on my sense of supposedwrong from my family, my impotent thirst of vengeance, and how it wouldsound in the haughty cars of the family of Willingham, that one of theirdescendants, and the heir apparent of their honours, should perish by thehands of the hangman for robbing a Scottish gauger of a sum not equal toone-fifth part of the money I had in my pocket-book. We were taken--Iexpected no less. We were condemned--that also I looked for. But death,as he approached nearer, looked grimly; and the recollection of yoursister's destitute condition determined me on an effort to save my life.--I forgot to tell you, that in Edinburgh I again met the womanMurdockson and her daughter. She had followed the camp when young, andhad now, under pretence of a trifling traffic, resumed predatory habits,with which she had already been too familiar. Our first meeting wasstormy; but I was liberal of what money I had, and she forgot, or seemedto forget, the injury her daughter had received. The unfortunate girlherself seemed hardly even to know her seducer, far less to retain anysense of the injury she had received. Her mind is totally alienated,which, according to her mother's account, is sometimes the consequence ofan unfavourable confinement. But it was _my doing._ Here was anotherstone knitted round my neck to sink me into the pit of perdition. Everylook--every word of this poor creature--her false spirits--her imperfectrecollections--her allusions to things which she had forgotten, but whichwere recorded in my conscience, were stabs of a poniard--stabs did Isay?--they were tearing with hot pincers, and scalding the raw wound withburning sulphur--they were to be endured however, and they were endured.--I return to my prison thoughts.

  "It was not the least miserable of them that your sister's timeapproached. I knew her dread of you and of her father. She often said shewould die a thousand deaths ere you should know her shame--yet herconfinement must be provided for. I knew this woman Murdockson was aninfernal hag, but I thought she loved me, and that money would make hertrue. She had procured a file for Wilson, and a spring-saw for me; andshe undertook readily to take charge of Effie during her illness, inwhich she had skill enough to give the necessary assistance. I gave herthe money which my father had sent me. It was settled that she shouldreceive Effie into her house in the meantime, and wait for fartherdirections from me, when I should effect my escape. I communicated thispurpose, and recommended the old hag to poor Effie by a letter, in whichI recollect that I endeavoured to support the character of Macheath undercondemnation-a fine, gay, bold-faced ruffian, who is game to the last.Such, and so wretchedly poor, was my ambition! Yet I had resolved toforsake the courses I had been engaged in, should I be so fortunate as toescape the gibbet. My design was to marry your sister, and go over to theWest Indies. I had still a considerable sum of money left, and I trustedto be able, in one way or other, to provide for myself and my wife.

  "We made the attempt to escape, and by the obstinacy of Wilson, whoinsisted upon going first, it totally miscarried. The undaunted andself-denied manner in which he sacrificed himself to redeem his error,and accomplish my escape from the Tolbooth Church, you must have heardof--all Scotland rang with it. It was a gallant and extraordinarydeed--All men spoke of it--all men, even those who most condemned thehabits and crimes of this self-devoted man, praised the heroism of hisfriendship. I have many vices, but cowardice or want of gratitude, arenone of the number. I resolved to requite his generosity, and even yoursister's safety became a secondary consideration with me for the time.To effect Wilson's liberation was my principal object, and I doubted notto find the means.

  "Yet I did not forget Effie neither. The bloodhounds of the law were soclose after me, that I dared not trust myself near any of my old haunts,but old Murdockson met me by appointment, and informed me that yoursister had happily been delivered of a boy. I charged the hag to keep herpatient's mind easy, and let her want for nothing that money couldpurchase, and I retreated to Fife, where, among my old associates ofWilson's gang, I hid myself in those places of concealment where the menengaged in that desperate trade are used to find security for themselvesand their uncustomed goods. Men who are disobedient both to human anddivine laws are not always insensible to the claims of courage andgenerosity. We were assured that the mob of Edinburgh, strongly movedwith the hardship of Wilson's situation, and the gallantry of hisconduct, would back any bold attempt that might be made to rescue himeven from the foot of the gibbet. Desperate as the attempt seemed, uponmy declaring myself ready to lead the onset on the guard, I found no wantof followers who engaged to stand by me, and returned to Lothian, soonfollowed by some steady associates, prepared to act whenever the occasionmight require.

  "I have no doubt I should have rescued him from the very noose thatdangled over his head," he continued with animation, which seemed a flashof the interest which he had taken in such exploits; "but amongst otherprecautions, the magistrates had taken one, suggested, as we afterwardslearned, by the unhappy wretch Porteous, which effectually disconcertedmy measures. They anticipated, by half-an-hour, the ordinary period forexecution; and, as it had been resolved amongst us, that, for fear ofobservation from the officers of justice, we should not show ourselvesupon the street until the time of action approached, it followed, thatall was over before our attempt at a rescue commenced. It did commence,however, and I gained the scaffold and cut the rope with my own hand. Itwas too late! The bold, stouthearted, generous criminal was no more--andvengeance was all that remained to us--a vengeance, as I then thought,doubly due from my hand, to whom Wilson had given life and liberty whenhe could as easily have secured his own."

  "O sir," said Jeanie, "did the Scripture never come into your mind,'Vengeance is mine, and I will repay it?'"

  "Scripture! Why, I had not opened a Bible for five years," answeredStaunton.

  "Wae's me, sirs," said Jeanie--"and a minister's son too!"

  "It is natural for you to say so; yet do not interrupt me, but let mefinish my most accursed history. The beast, Por
teous, who kept firing onthe people long after it had ceased to be necessary, became the object oftheir hatred for having overdone his duty, and of mine for having done ittoo well. We that is, I and the other determined friends of Wilson,resolved to be avenged--but caution was necessary. I thought I had beenmarked by one of the officers, and therefore continued to lurk about thevicinity of Edinburgh, but without daring to venture within the walls. Atlength I visited, at the hazard of my life, the place where I hoped tofind my future wife and my son--they were both gone. Dame Murdocksoninformed me, that so soon as Effie heard of the miscarriage of theattempt to rescue Wilson, and the hot pursuit after me, she fell into abrain fever; and that being one day obliged to go out on some necessarybusiness and leave her alone, she had taken that opportunity to escape,and she had not seen her since. I loaded her with reproaches, to whichshe listened with the most provoking and callous composure; for it is oneof her attributes, that, violent and fierce as she is upon mostoccasions, there are some in which she shows the most imperturbablecalmness. I threatened her with justice; she said I had more reason tofear justice than she had. I felt she was right, and was silenced. Ithreatened her with vengeance; she replied in nearly the same words,that, to judge by injuries received, I had more reason to fear hervengeance, than she to dread mine. She was again right, and I was leftwithout an answer. I flung myself from her in indignation, and employed acomrade to make inquiry in the neighbourhood of Saint Leonard'sconcerning your sister; but ere I received his answer, the opening questof a well-scented terrier of the law drove me from the vicinity ofEdinburgh, to a more distant and secluded place of concealment. A secretand trusty emissary at length brought me the account of Porteous'scondemnation, and of your sister's imprisonment on a criminal charge;thus astounding one of mine ears, while he gratified the other.

  "I again ventured to the Pleasance--again charged Murdockson withtreachery to the unfortunate Effie and her child, though I could conceiveno reason, save that of appropriating the whole of the money I had lodgedwith her. Your narrative throws light on this, and shows another motive,not less powerful because less evident--the desire of wreaking vengeanceon the seducer of her daughter,--the destroyer at once of her reason andreputation. Great God! how I wish that, instead of the revenge she madechoice of, she had delivered me up to the cord!"

  "But what account did the wretched woman give of Effie and the bairn?"said Jeanie, who, during this long and agitating narrative, had firmnessand discernment enough to keep her eye on such points as might throwlight on her sister's misfortunes.

  "She would give none," said Staunton; "she said the mother made amoonlight flitting from her house, with the infant in her arms--that shehad never seen either of them since--that the lass might have thrown thechild into the North Loch or the Quarry Holes for what she knew, and itwas like enough she had done so."

  "And how came you to believe that she did not speak the fatal truth?"said Jeanie, trembling.

  "Because, on this second occasion, I saw her daughter, and I understoodfrom her, that, in fact, the child had been removed or destroyed duringthe illness of the mother. But all knowledge to be got from her is souncertain and indirect, that I could not collect any farthercircumstances. Only the diabolical character of old Murdockson makes meaugur the worst."

  "The last account agrees with that given by my poor sister," said Jeanie;"but gang on wi' your ain tale, sir."

  "Of this I am certain," said Staunton, "that Effie, in her senses, andwith her knowledge, never injured living creature.--But what could I doin her exculpation?--Nothing--and, therefore, my whole thoughts wereturned toward her safety. I was under the cursed necessity of suppressingmy feelings towards Murdockson; my life was in the hag's hand--that Icared not for; but on my life hung that of your sister. I spoke thewretch fair; I appeared to confide in her; and to me, so far as I waspersonally concerned, she gave proofs of extraordinary fidelity. I was atfirst uncertain what measures I ought to adopt for your sister'sliberation, when the general rage excited among the citizens of Edinburghon account of the reprieve, of Porteous, suggested to me the daring ideaof forcing the jail, and at once carrying off your sister from theclutches of the law, and bringing to condign punishment a miscreant, whohad tormented the unfortunate Wilson, even in the hour of death as if hehad been a wild Indian taken captive by a hostile tribe. I flung myselfamong the multitude in the moment of fermentation--so did others amongWilson's mates, who had, like me, been disappointed in the hope ofglutting their eyes with Porteous's execution. All was organised, and Iwas chosen for the captain. I felt not--I do not now feel, compunctionfor what was to be done, and has since been executed."

  "O, God forgive ye, sir, and bring ye to a better sense of your ways!"exclaimed Jeanie, in horror at the avowal of such violent sentiments.

  "Amen," replied Staunton, "if my sentiments are wrong. But I repeat,that, although willing to aid the deed, I could have wished them to havechosen another leader; because I foresaw that the great and general dutyof the night would interfere with the assistance which I proposed torender Effie. I gave a commission however, to a trusty friend to protecther to a place of safety, so soon as the fatal procession had left thejail. But for no persuasions which I could use in the hurry of themoment, or which my comrade employed at more length, after the mob hadtaken a different direction, could the unfortunate girl be prevailed uponto leave the prison. His arguments were all wasted upon the infatuatedvictim, and he was obliged to leave her in order to attend to his ownsafety. Such was his account; but, perhaps, he persevered less steadilyin his attempts to persuade her than I would have done."

  "Effie was right to remain," said Jeanie; "and I love her the better forit."

  "Why will you say so?" said Staunton.

  "You cannot understand my reasons, sir, if I should render them,"answered Jeanie composedly; "they that thirst for the blood of theirenemies have no taste for the well-spring of life."

  "My hopes," said Staunton, "were thus a second time disappointed. My nextefforts were to bring her through her trial by means of yourself. How Iurged it, and where, you cannot have forgotten. I do not blame you foryour refusal; it was founded, I am convinced, on principle, and not onindifference to your sister's fate. For me, judge of me as a man frantic;I knew not what hand to turn to, and all my efforts were unavailing. Inthis condition, and close beset on all sides, I thought of what might bedone by means of my family, and their influence. I fled from Scotland--Ireached this place--my miserably wasted and unhappy appearance procuredme from my father that pardon, which a parent finds it so hard to refuse,even to the most undeserving son. And here I have awaited in anguish ofmind, which the condemned criminal might envy, the event of your sister'strial."

  "Without taking any steps for her relief?" said Jeanie.

  "To the last I hoped her ease might terminate more favourably; and it isonly two days since that the fatal tidings reached me. My resolution wasinstantly taken. I mounted my best horse with the purpose of making theutmost haste to London and there compounding with Sir Robert Walpole foryour sister's safety, by surrendering to him, in the person of the heirof the family of Willingham, the notorious George Robertson, theaccomplice of Wilson, the breaker of the Tolbooth prison, and thewell-known leader of the Porteous mob."

  "But would that save my sister?" said Jeanie, in astonishment.

  "It would, as I should drive my bargain," said Staunton. "Queens loverevenge as well as their subjects--Little as you seem to esteem it, it isa poison which pleases all palates, from the prince to the peasant. Primeministers love no less the power of gratifying sovereigns by gratifyingtheir passions.--The life of an obscure village girl! Why, I might askthe best of the crown-jewels for laying the head of such an insolentconspiracy at the foot of her majesty, with a certainty of beinggratified. All my other plans have failed, but this could not--Heaven isjust, however, and would not honour me with making this voluntaryatonement for the injury I have done your sister. I had not rode tenmiles, when my horse, the best and most sure-foot
ed animal in thiscountry, fell with me on a level piece of road, as if he had been struckby a cannon-shot. I was greatly hurt, and was brought back here in thecondition in which you now see me."

  As young Staunton had come to the conclusion, the servant opened thedoor, and, with a voice which seemed intended rather for a signal, thanmerely the announcing of a visit, said, "His Reverence, sir, is coming upstairs to wait upon you."

  "For God's sake, hide yourself, Jeanie," exclaimed Staunton, "in thatdressing closet!"

  "No, sir," said Jeanie; "as I am here for nae ill, I canna take the shameof hiding mysell frae the master of the house."

  "But, good Heavens!" exclaimed George Staunton, "do but consider--"

  Ere he could complete the sentence, his father entered the apartment.