The Heart of Mid-Lothian | Page 9

I asked her name. Her
countenance suddenly clouded, and she said gravely, rather colouring,
'My name is Helen Walker; but your husband kens weel about me.'
"In the evening I related how much I had been pleased, and inquired
what was extraordinary in the history of the poor woman. Mr. ---- said,
there were perhaps few more remarkable people than Helen Walker.
She had been left an orphan, with the charge of a sister considerably
younger than herself, and who was educated and maintained by her
exertions. Attached to herby so many ties, therefore, it will not be easy
to conceive her feelings, when she found that this only sister must be
tried by the laws of her country for child-murder, and upon being called
as principal witness against her. The counsel for the prisoner told Helen,
that if she could declare that her sister had made any preparations,
however slight, or had given her any intimation on the subject, that
such a statement would save her sister's life, as she was the principal
witness against her. Helen said, 'It is impossible for me to swear to a
falsehood; and, whatever may be the consequence, I will give my oath
according to my conscience.'
"The trial came on, and the sister was found guilty and condemned; but
in Scotland six weeks must elapse between the sentence and the
execution, and Helen Walker availed herself of it. The very day of her
sister's condemnation she got a petition drawn, stating the peculiar
circumstances of the case, and that very night set out on foot to
London.
"Without introduction or recommendation, with her simple (perhaps

ill-expressed) petition, drawn up by some inferior clerk of the court, she
presented herself, in her tartan plaid and country attire, to the late Duke
of Argyle, who immediately procured the pardon she petitioned for,
and Helen returned with it on foot just in time to save her sister.
"I was so strongly interested by this narrative, that I determined
immediately to prosecute my acquaintance with Helen Walker; but as I
was to leave the country next day, I was obliged to defer it till my
return in spring, when the first walk I took was to Helen Walker's
cottage.
"She had died a short time before. My regret was extreme, and I
endeavoured to obtain some account of Helen from an old woman who
inhabited the other end of her cottage. I inquired if Helen ever spoke of
her past history--her journey to London, etc., 'Na,' the old woman said,
'Helen was a wily body, and whene'er ony o' the neebors asked
anything about it, she aye turned the conversation.'
"In short, every answer I received only tended to increase my regret,
and raise my opinion of Helen Walker, who could unite so much
prudence with so much heroic virtue."
This narrative was inclosed in the following letter to the author, without
date or signature--
"Sir,--The occurrence just related happened to me twenty-six years ago.
Helen Walker lies buried in the churchyard of Irongray, about six miles
from Dumfries. I once proposed that a small monument should have
been erected to commemorate so remarkable a character, but I now
prefer leaving it to you to perpetuate her memory in a more durable
manner."
The reader is now able to judge how far the author has improved upon,
or fallen short of, the pleasing and interesting sketch of high principle
and steady affection displayed by Helen Walker, the prototype of the
fictitious Jeanie Deans. Mrs. Goldie was unfortunately dead before the
author had given his name to these volumes, so he lost all opportunity
of thanking that lady for her highly valuable communication. But her

daughter, Miss Goldie, obliged him with the following additional
information:--
"Mrs. Goldie endeavoured to collect further particulars of Helen
Walker, particularly concerning her journey to London, but found this
nearly impossible; as the natural dignity of her character, and a high
sense of family respectability, made her so indissolubly connect her
sister's disgrace with her own exertions, that none of her neighbours
durst ever question her upon the subject. One old woman, a distant
relation of Helen's, and who is still living, says she worked an harvest
with her, but that she never ventured to ask her about her sister's trial,
or her journey to London; 'Helen,' she added, 'was a lofty body, and
used a high style o' language.' The same old woman says, that every
year Helen received a cheese from her sister, who lived at Whitehaven,
and that she always sent a liberal portion of it to herself, or to her
father's family. This fact, though trivial in itself, strongly marks the
affection subsisting between the two sisters, and the complete
conviction on the mind of the criminal that her sister