ll more
fully declare by an interlocutor of relevancy in common form; but I fancy
that job's done already, for she has confessed her guilt."

"Confessed the murder?" exclaimed Jeanie, with a scream that made them
all start.

"No, I didna say that," replied Bartoline. "But she confessed bearing the
babe."

"And what became of it, then?" said Jeanie, "for not a word could I get
from her but bitter sighs and tears."

"She says it was taken away from her by the woman in whose house it was
born, and who assisted her at the time."

"And who was that woman?" said Butler. "Surely by her means the truth
might be discovered.--Who was she? I will fly to her directly."

"I wish," said Dumbiedikes, "I were as young and as supple as you, and
had the gift of the gab as weel."

"Who is she?" again reiterated Butler impatiently.--"Who could that woman
be?"

"Ay, wha kens that but herself?" said Saddletree; "she deponed farther,
and declined to answer that interrogatory."

"Then to herself will I instantly go," said Butler; "farewell, Jeanie;"
then coming close up to her--"Take no _rash steps_ till you hear from me.
Farewell!" and he immediately left the cottage.

"I wad gang too," said the landed proprietor, in an anxious, jealous, and
repining tone, "but my powny winna for the life o' me gang ony other road
than just frae Dumbiedikes to this house-end, and sae straight back
again."

"Yell do better for them," said Saddletree, as they left the house
together, "by sending me the thretty punds."

"Thretty punds!" hesitated Dumbiedikes, who was now out of the reach of
those eyes which had inflamed his generosity; "I only said _twenty_
punds."

"Ay; but," said Saddletree, "that was under protestation to add and eik;
and so ye craved leave to amend your libel, and made it thretty."

"Did I? I dinna mind that I did," answered Dumbiedikes. "But whatever I
said I'll stand to." Then bestriding his steed with some difficulty, he
added, "Dinna ye think poor Jeanie's een wi' the tears in them glanced
like lamour beads, Mr. Saddletree?"

"I kenna muckle about women's een, Laird," replied the insensible
Bartoline; "and I care just as little. I wuss I were as weel free o'
their tongues; though few wives," he added, recollecting the necessity of
keeping up his character for domestic rule, "are under better command
than mine, Laird. I allow neither perduellion nor lese-majesty against my
sovereign authority."

The Laird saw nothing