“Mrs. Dunlop and Miss Campbell!” announced the footman loudly. With a smile on his handsome face and a hurried word of apology, Robert rapidly walked to meet the approaching couple, who were the cynosure of all eyes. Mrs. Dunlop was recognized by all as a woman of much importance in Edinburgh society. She knew everybody and everybody knew her, for she was the lineal descendant of the immortal Wallace, a fact of which she was justly proud. She was a motherly looking woman, with a charming smile and a pleasant, taking manner. But the murmur of admiration throughout the room was not for her; it was for the slim little girl in white with the blue eyes and fair hair, which glittered like gold beneath the brilliant light of the chandeliers. “Who can she be?” they whispered to each other in wonder. “Evidently not a person of importance, else she would be dressed in the fashion of the day and have her hair powdered.” “At last, Mary, ye’re here!” cried Robert delightedly, placing her hand within his arm. She clung to it with a nervous clutch. “The child is frightened to death,” whispered Mrs. Dunlop, smiling indulgently. [Illustration: “‘Mrs. Dunlop and Miss Campbell,’ announced the footman loudly.”] Lady Glencairn turned very pale, as she recognized the girl she had met in Robert’s room. She trembled and could scarcely regain her usual composure as Robert with a proud tenderness lighting up the depths of his black eyes, led the vision of youth and perfect beauty up to the hostess, to whom he introduced Mary. Then he turned to Lady Glencairn. “Lady Glencairn, allow me to introduce to you Miss Campbell. You remember Highland Mary, do you not?” She gave a slight start and her muscles tightened. The dairymaid sweetheart here in Edinburgh? she thought in amazement. What could it mean? “Quite well,” she answered, extending her cold jeweled hand. “I little dreamed I should ever meet you here like this, but the unexpected always happens.” “Dinna’ ye mind, my lady,” replied Mary simply, “ye said ye would be glad to see me whenever I came to town.” She raised those marvelous, innocent eyes of hers and smiled. Why did Lady Glencairn shrink from that frank and childlike openness of regard? Why did she for one brief moment feel herself to be vile and beneath contempt? She turned to where Mrs. Dunlop was conversing animatedly with their hostess, a flush akin to shame mantling her haughty face. “My dear Duchess,” she was saying apologetically, “pray pardon our late arrival, but I assure you ’tis not made for effect; our carriage broke down on the way.” Eppy started in amazement; had she overheard her spiteful remark? The Duchess graciously inclined her stately head. “So glad you got here at all, Mrs. Dunlop,” she said.