Lady Glencairn snapped her fan together convulsively. “You mean to leave Edinburgh for good?” she asked in faint, incredulous accents, turning to Robert. The people crowded around and a storm of protest arose. “What madness!” “Leave Edinburgh for the country!” “They couldn’t hear of such a thing.” “He owed a duty to them as Scotland’s Bard!” etc., etc. Robert turned to them and spoke lightly, although with an undercurrent of seriousness. “I ken I am but wasting my time, my energies, my talents here, amid the sensual delight which your city affords,” he said. “I am not formed for it. I am but a rustic at heart and in manners, and the country is my only vantageground.” Mary stole softly to his side and snuggled her hand in his. “Isn’t it sweet to be in love?” cried Eppy cooingly, to Sir William, in a sibilant aside. “Think what we are missing.” “We’re too old for such nonsense,” replied Sir William gruffly. “Oh, indeed!” flashed Eppy. “Huh, a woman’s never too old to love,” with an indignant toss of her head. “No, nor to make a fool of herself,” retorted Sir William, smiling grimly. “But we cannot give you up just yet,” declared Lord Glencairn emphatically, placing his hand affectionately on Robert’s shoulder. “I am sure, Mr. Burns,” said Mr. Mackenzie gravely, “that your friends and admirers would not advise such a move for you, especially as you are now riding high on the top wave of success.” “I have nothing to gain by staying here, Mr. Mackenzie,” replied Robert, turning to him and speaking slowly and thoughtfully, “for, as you observe, I am now firmly established as a poet. I fear I am not proof against the subtle temptations which constantly beset my path and which push aside all thoughts of poesy; so as discretion is the better part of valor,” he continued, looking lovingly at the girl clinging so confidingly to his arm, “I shall flee from it all to my farm, my plow, and there amid those innocent, wholesome surroundings pass my remaining days in peace wi’ my wife by my side.” Mrs. Dunlop sighed dismally and shook her white curls in decided disapproval. “Laddie, you will be taking a false step,” she declared emphatically; “your place is here before the public.” “Indeed it is!” gurgled Eppy soulfully. “I protest Edinburgh cannot spare its poet yet. Your old farm can wait for you yet a while.” Mary looked at his thoughtful face with anxious eyes. She prayed fervently that nothing would dissuade him from his purpose. For it had been at her earnest solicitation that he finally decided to give up the enervating pleasures of the Capital, and to retire to the country where he would be free from the contaminating influences which now surrounded him.