A benevolent minister, who visited Jean Livingston in prison about ten o’clock on Thursday, the third day after the murder, found her “raging in a senseless fury, disdainfully taunting every word of grace that was spoken to her, impatiently tearing her hair, sometimes running up and down the house like one possessed, sometimes throwing herself on the bed and sprawling, refusing all comfort by word, and, when the book of God was brought to her, flinging it upon the walls, twice or thrice, most unreverently.” His warnings of wrath to come and his exhortations to seek mercy through repentance were treated as “trittle, trattle,” and she stubbornly refused to pray for herself, or to take part in his prayer, or to say so much as God help me. He told her that she was promising herself impunity, but within a few hours, when she should have the sentence of death pronounced against her, the pride of her heart would be broken. The trial and sentence followed hard upon this, and when the minister returned, some time in the afternoon, he found a visible and apparent grace beginning in her. He remained with her till after midnight, and when he left her, Jean Livingston could say that she felt in her heart a free remission of all her sins. This worthy man came to the prison again early the next morning, and found God’s grace wonderfully augmented in her. She was full of joy and courage. Those that stood about her said they never saw her so amiable or well-favored. The glory of God was shining both without and within her. To follow no further this astounding chapter in psychology, this bairn of twenty-one years,[10] with whom the Lord began to work in mercy upon Thursday at two hours in the afternoon, gave up her soul to him in peace upon the Saturday following at three hours in the morning. “When she came to the scaffold and was carried up upon it, she looked up to the Maiden with two longsome looks,” but her serenity was not disturbed. She made a confession at each of the four corners of the scaffold, took “good night” cheerfully of all her friends, kissing them, and then, “as a constant saint of God, humbled herself on her knees and offered her neck to the axe.”[11] It may be gathered from Weir’s indictment that it was the ill treatment which she had received from her husband that incited the wife to the murder. Two of the ballads, #A# 4, #B# 2, make the same representation. An epitaph on Jean Livingston gives us to understand that both parties were very young, and were married aganst their will (invita invito subjuncta puella puello): whence perpetual disagreements (nihil in thalamo nisi rixæ, jurgia, lites).