"That's no' true, Jeannie, though a saint had said it," replied Effie.
"But ye dinna ken, though I do, how far he put his life in venture to
save mine." And looking at Ratcliffe, checked herself and was silent.

"I fancy," said he, "the lassie thinks naebody has een but hersell.
Didna I see Gentle Geordie trying to get other folk out of the Tolbooth
forbye Jock Porteous? Ye needna look sae amazed. I ken mair things than
that, maybe."

"O my God, my God!" said she, throwing herself on her knees before him.
"D'ye ken where they hae putten my bairn? O my bairn, my bairn! Tell me
wha has taen't away, or what they hae dune wi't!"

As his answer destroyed the wild hope that had suddenly dawned upon her,
the unhappy prisoner fell on the floor in a strong convulsion fit.

Jeannie instantly applied herself to her sister's relief, and Ratcliffe
had even the delicacy to withdraw to the other end of the room to render
his official attendance as little intrusive as possible; while Jeannie
commenced her narrative of all that had passed between her and
Robertson. After a long pause:

"And he wanted you to say something to you folks that wad save my young
life?" said Effie.

"He wanted," said Jeannie, "that I shuld be mansworn!"

"And you tauld him," said Effie, "that ye wadna hear o' coming between
me and death, and me no aughteen year auld yet?"