Part 37 (1/2)

”O, you mean _juris-consultus--Ictus_ is an abbreviation for _juris-consultus._”

”Dinna tell me, man,” persevered Saddletree, ”there's nae abbreviates except in adjudications; and this is a' about a servitude of water-drap--that is to say, _tillicidian_* (maybe ye'll say that's no Latin neither), in Mary King's Close in the High Street.”

* He meant, probably, _stillicidium._

”Very likely,” said poor Butler, overwhelmed by the noisy perseverance of his visitor. ”Iam not able to dispute with you.”

”Few folk are--few folk are, Mr. Butler, though I say it that shouldna say it,” returned Bartoline with great delight. ”Now, it will be twa hours yet or ye're wanted in the schule, and as ye are no weel, I'll sit wi' you to divert ye, and explain t'ye the nature of a _tillicidian._ Ye maun ken, the pet.i.tioner, Mrs. Crombie, a very decent woman, is a friend of mine, and I hae stude her friend in this case, and brought her wi'

credit into the court, and I doubtna that in due time she will win out o't wi' credit, win she or lose she. Ye see, being an inferior tenement or laigh house, we grant ourselves to be burdened wi' the _tillicide,_ that is, that we are obligated to receive the natural water-drap of the superior tenement, sae far as the same fa's frae the heavens, or the roof of our neighbour's house, and from thence by the gutters or eaves upon our laigh tenement. But the other night comes a Highland quean of a la.s.s, and she flashes, G.o.d kens what, out at the eastmost window of Mrs.

MacPhail's house, that's the superior tenement. I believe the auld women wad hae agreed, for Luckie MacPhail sent down the la.s.s to tell my friend Mrs. Crombie that she had made the gardyloo out of the wrang window, out of respect for twa Highlandmen that were speaking Gaelic in the close below the right ane. But luckily for Mrs. Crombie, I just chanced to come in in time to break aff the communing, for it's a pity the point suldna be tried. We had Mrs. MacPhail into the Ten-Mark Court--The Hieland limmer of a la.s.s wanted to swear herself free--but haud ye there, says I.”

The detailed account of this important suit might have lasted until poor Butler's hour of rest was completely exhausted, had not Saddletree been interrupted by the noise of voices at the door. The woman of the house where Butler lodged, on returning with her pitcher from the well, whence she had been fetching water for the family, found our heroine Jeanie Deans standing at the door, impatient of the prolix harangue of Saddletree, yet unwilling to enter until he should have taken his leave.

The good woman abridged the period of hesitation by inquiring, ”Was ye wanting the gudeman or me, la.s.s?”

”I wanted to speak with Mr. Butler, if he's at leisure,” replied Jeanie.

”Gang in by then, my woman,” answered the goodwife; and opening the door of a room, she announced the additional visitor with, ”Mr. Butler, here's a la.s.s wants to speak t'ye.”

The surprise of Butler was extreme, when Jeanie, who seldom stirred half-a-mile from home, entered his apartment upon this annunciation.

”Good G.o.d!” he said, starting from his chair, while alarm restored to his cheek the colour of which sickness had deprived it; ”some new misfortune must have happened!”

”None, Mr. Reuben, but what you must hae heard of--but oh, ye are looking ill yoursell!”--for the ”hectic of a moment” had not concealed from her affectionate eyes the ravages which lingering disease and anxiety of mind had made in her lover's person.

”No: I am well--quite well,” said Butler with eagerness; ”if I can do anything to a.s.sist you, Jeanie--or your father.”

”Ay, to be sure,” said Saddletree; ”the family may be considered as limited to them twa now, just as if Effie had never been in the tailzie, puir thing. But, Jeanie la.s.s, what brings you out to Liberton sae air in the morning, and your father lying ill in the Luckenbooths?”

”I had a message frae my father to Mr. Butler,” said Jeanie with embarra.s.sment; but instantly feeling ashamed of the fiction to which she had resorted, for her love of and veneration for truth was almost Quaker-like, she corrected herself--”That is to say, I wanted to speak with Mr. Butler about some business of my father's and puir Effie's.”

”Is it law business?” said Bartoline; ”because if it be, ye had better take my opinion on the subject than his.”

”It is not just law business,” said Jeanie, who saw considerable inconvenience might arise from letting Mr. Saddletree into the secret purpose of her journey; ”but I want Mr. Butler to write a letter for me.”

”Very right,” said Mr. Saddletree; ”and if ye'll tell me what it is about, I'll dictate to Mr. Butler as Mr. Crossmyloof does to his clerk.--Get your pen and ink in initialibus, Mr. Butler.”

Jeanie looked at Butler, and wrung her hands with vexation and impatience.

”I believe, Mr. Saddletree,” said Butler, who saw the necessity of getting rid of him at all events, ”that Mr. Whackbairn will be somewhat affronted if you do not hear your boys called up to their lessons.”

”Indeed, Mr. Butler, and that's as true; and I promised to ask a half play-day to the schule, so that the bairns might gang and see the hanging, which canna but have a pleasing effect on their young minds, seeing there is no knowing what they may come to themselves.--Odd so, I didna mind ye were here, Jeanie Deans; but ye maun use yoursell to hear the matter spoken o'.--Keep Jeanie here till I come back, Mr. Butler; I winna bide ten minutes.”

And with this unwelcome a.s.surance of an immediate return, he relieved them of the embarra.s.sment of his presence.

”Reuben,” said Jeanie, who saw the necessity of using the interval of his absence in discussing what had brought her there, ”I am bound on a lang journey--I am gaun to Lunnon to ask Effie's life of the king and of the queen.”

”Jeanie! you are surely not yourself,” answered Butler, in the utmost surprise;--”_you_ go to London--_you_ address the king and queen!”

”And what for no, Reuben?” said Jeanie, with all the composed simplicity of her character; ”it's but speaking to a mortal man and woman when a' is done. And their hearts maun be made o' flesh and blood like other folk's, and Effie's story wad melt them were they stane. Forby, I hae heard that they are no sic bad folk as what the Jacobites ca' them.”