A few days after this conversation Robert had business in the city, and after it was finished, he walked leisurely down Buchanan Street. It was a fine spring morning, and there was a glint of sunshine tempering the fresh west breeze. Passing McLaren's, he saw a lady get out of a cab, and go into the shop. He followed her, and gently laid his hand on her shoulder, saying: "Christina, sister!" "Oh, Robert, Robert!" and she laughed, and cried, and clasped his hands. "Come with me to my club," he said, "and we will have lunch and a good talk. You must have a deal to tell me." "I have, I have! My cab is at the door. Will it do for you? You used to hate cabs." She laughed again and her laugh went to his heart, so he petted her hand, and said she was looking white and thin, and what was the matter? "I had a little daughter only six weeks ago, the sweetest darling you ever saw, Robert. And I have a beautiful wee laddie, called Robert--called after you--he is nearly a year old." "Then I must go with you and see my namesake." "Do you really mean that?" "I intend to give you this afternoon." "I am so glad--so happy." Then they were at the Club House, and Robert took her to a pleasant parlor and ordered a royal lunch, and a bottle of wine. "We must drink the little chap's health," he said. "And now tell me, Christina, are you happy?" "Yes, I am happy. I have some little anxieties about Jamie, but love makes all easy--and Jamie loves me and the children, and does his best for us. A man cannot do more than that, can he?" "Have you ever regretted your treatment of Sir Thomas Wynton?" "Never once! Wynton treated me handsomely, but you see, _I loved Jamie_. You understand, Robert?" "Yes." "I heard about Theodora, of course. It was hard on you, but I do not blame Theodora. Since I was a mother, I have wondered she bore David's treatment as long as she did. I would not." When lunch was over, they drove to Christina's home, and Robert laughed at its location. "Why, you are barely a mile from Traquair House," he said. "How was it we never found you out?" "Perhaps you did not care about finding me out." "Perhaps. Yet I know Isabel never went out without looking for you, and she has put many advertisements in the papers." "Well, I was neither lost nor stolen, Robert, so I never read advertisements." She laughed in her old mocking way. "But I longed for Isabel, and have hard work to keep away from her."