_To him, JEAN, a baby in her shawl, C._
JEAN (_who has entered silently during the Deacon's last words_). It's
me, Wullie.
BRODIE (_turning upon her_). What! You here again? (you again!)
JEAN. Deacon, I'm unco vexed.
BRODIE. Do you know what you do? Do you know what you risk? (Is there
nothing--nothing!--will make you spare me this idiotic, wanton
persecution?)
JEAN. I was wrong to come yestreen; I ken that fine. But the day it's
different; I but to come the day, Deacon, though I ken fine it's the
Sabbath, and I think shame to be seen upon the streets.
BRODIE. See here, Jean. You must go now. I'll come to you to-night; I
swear that. But now I'm for the road.
JEAN. No' till you've heard me, William Brodie. Do ye think I came to
pleasure mysel', where I'm no' wanted? I've a pride o' my ain.
BRODIE. Jean, I am going now. If you please to stay on alone, in this
house of mine, where I wish I could say you are welcome, stay.
(_Going._)
JEAN. It's the man frae Bow Street.
BRODIE. Bow Street?
JEAN. I thocht ye would hear me. Ye think little o' me; but it's mebbe a
braw thing for you that I think sae muckle o' William Brodie ... ill as
it sets me.
BRODIE. (You don't know what is on my mind, Jennie, else you would
forgive me.) Bow Street?
JEAN. It's the man Hunt: him that was here yestreen for the Fiscal.
BRODIE. Hunt?
JEAN. He kens a hantle. He.... Ye maunna be angered wi' me, Wullie! I
said what I shouldna.
BRODIE. Said? Said what?
JEAN. Just that ye were a guid frien' to me. He made believe he was
awfu' sorry for me, because ye gied me nae siller; and I said, "Wha
tellt him that?" and that he lee'd.
BRODIE. God knows he did! What next?
JEAN. He was that soft-spoken, butter wouldna melt in his mouth; and he
keept aye harp, harpin'; but after that let-out, he got neither black
nor white frae me. Just that ae word and nae mair; and at the hinder end
he just speired straucht out, whaur it was ye got your siller frae.
BRODIE. Where I got my siller?
JEAN. Ay, that was it. "You ken," says he.
BRODIE. Did he? and what said you?
JEAN. I couldna think on naething, but just that he was a gey and clever
gentleman.
BRODIE. You should have said I was in trade, and had a good business.
That's what you should have said. That's what you would have said had
you been worth your salt. But it's blunder, blunder, outside and in
(upstairs, down-stairs, and in my lady's chamber). You women! Did he see
Smith?
JEAN. Ay, and kennt him.
BRODIE. Damnation!----No, I'm not angry with you, but you see what I've
to endure for you. Don't cry. (Here's the devil at the door, and we must
bar him out as best we can.)
JEAN. God's truth, ye are nae vexed wi' me?
BRODIE. God's truth, I am grateful to you. How is the child? Well?
That's right. (_Peeping._) Poor wee laddie! He's like you, Jean.
JEAN. I thocht he was liker you.
BRODIE. Is he? Perhaps he is. Ah, Jeannie, you must see and make him a
better man than his father.
JEAN. Eh man, Deacon, the proud wumman I'll be gin he's only half sae
guid.
BRODIE. Well, well, if I win through this, we'll see what we can dae for
him between us. (_Leading her out, C._) And now; go--go--go.
LAWSON (_without L._). I ken the way, I ken the way.
JEAN (_starting to door_). It's the Fiscal; I'm awa. (BRODIE, L.)