The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 597
upon reconsidering this point, to employ it as occasion should serve, either
in educating her children better than her own means could compass, or for
their future portion. Her sister had enough, was strongly bound to assist
Jeanie by any means in her power, and the arrangement was so natural
and proper, that it ought not to be declined out of fastidious or romantic
delicacy. Jeanie accordingly wrote to her sister, acknowledging her letter,
and requesting to hear from her as often as she could. In entering into her
own little details of news, chiefly respecting domestic affairs, she experienced a singular vacillation of ideas; for sometimes she apologized for mentioning things unworthy the notice of a lady of rank, and then recollected
that every thing which concerned her should be interesting to Effie. Her
letter, under the cover of Mr. Whiterose, she committed to the post-office at
Glasgow, by the intervention of a parishioner who had business at that city.
The next week brought the Duke to Roseneath, and shortly afterwards he
intimated his intention of sporting in their neighbourhood, and taking his
bed at the Manse; an honour which he had once or twice done to its inmates on former occasions.
Effie proved to be perfectly right in her anticipations. The Duke had
hardly set himself down at Mrs. Butler's right hand, and taken upon himself the task of carving the excellent " barn-door chucky," which had been
selected as the high dish upon this honourable occasion, before he began to
speak of Lady Staunton of Willingham, in Lincolnshire, and the great noise
which her wit and beauty made in London. For much of this Jeanie was,
in some measure, prepared-but Effie's wit! that would never have entered
into her imagination, being ignorant how exactly raillery in the higher rank
resembles flippancy among their inferiors.
" She has been the ruling belle —the blazing star-the universal toast of
the winter," said the Duke; "and is really the most beautiful creature that
was seen at court upon the birth-day."
The birth-day! and at court!-Jeanie was annihilated, remembering well
her own presentation, all its extraordinary circumstances, and particularly
the cause of it.
"I mention this lady particularly to you, Mrs. Butler," said the Duke,
"because she has something in the sound of'her voice, and cast of her
countenance, that reminded me of you-not when you look so pale though
-you have over-fatigued yourself-you must pledge me in a glass of wine."
She did so, and Butler observed, " It was dangerous flattery in his Grace
to tell a poor minister's wife that she was like a court-beauty."
"Oho! Mr. Butler," said the Duke, "I find you are growing jealous;
but it's rather too late in the day, for you know how long I have admired
your wife. But seriously, there is betwixt them one of those inexplicable
likenesses which we see in countenances, that do not otherwise resemble
each other."
"The perilous part of the compliment has flown off," thought Mr. Butler.
His wife, feeling the awkwardness of silence, forced herself to say, " That,
perhaps, the lady might be her countrywoman, and the language might have
made some re.semblance."
"You are quite right," replied the Duke. " She is a Scotchwoman, and
speaks with a Scotch accent, and now and then a provincial word drops out
so prettily, that it is quite Doric, Mr. Butler."
"I should have thought," said the clergyman, "'that would have sounded
vulgar in the great city."
"Not at all," replied the Duke; "you must suppose it is not the broad
coarse Scotch that is spoken in the Cowgate of Edinburgh, or in the Gorbals. This lady has been very little in Scotland, in fact-She was educated
in a convent abroad, and speaks that pure court-Scotch, which was common
in my younger days; but it is so generally disused now, that it sounds like
a different dialect, entirely distinct from our modern patois."