Lord Glencairn slapped him on the back with playful earnestness. “Come, come, my lad!” he cried gayly, “this will never do; you are in the dumps; throw it off, lad, and be merry. Do not heed the idle gossip of your unsuccessful rivals and the scandal mongers. Rest assured your popularity and fame will never die whether you remain here or retire to the country.” “Would I could think so,” sighed Robert gloomily. Eppy suddenly gave a nervous little giggle. “I vow I feel like crying,” she observed hysterically, “I wish everybody wouldn’t look so mournful.” Mr. Mackenzie turned quickly to his hostess. “My dear Duchess,” he said courteously, “you were going to show us your new painting in which Mr. Burns is the central figure of the group.” At once the silent group became animated. “Oh, yes, do!” cried Eppy, with a yearning look at Robert. “I wonder if I could pick you from among the others?” she coyly observed. “I trust, madam, that my phiz will be recognizable,” he replied dryly. The Duchess turned to her husband. “Take Miss Campbell and lead the way to the gallery,” she said quickly. “Is Mr. Burns to take me?” inquired Eppy of her hostess, but she had followed her husband, leaning on the arm of Mr. Mackenzie. Lady Glencairn smiled sweetly, “So sorry, Miss McKay, but Sir William has asked for that pleasure.” “I?” gasped Sir William, with a comical look of dismay. She looked at him maliciously. “Yes, did you not?” she raised her eyebrows inquiringly, an innocent smile hovering about her mouth. For a moment he sputtered, then with a grim smile he snarled sarcastically, “’Twill afford me great pleasure.” With a wildly beating heart Lady Glencairn took Robert’s arm and started for the stairs, followed by the others. Eppy sniffed suspiciously. “Oh, I understand now,” she observed spitefully with a meaning smile. “I thought you would, dear,” flashed her ladyship mockingly, over her shoulder. “Are you coming, madam?” demanded Sir William testily, offering his arm. With an indignant clack of her tongue, Eppy haughtily brushed past him and swiftly mounted the stairs, leaving the disgruntled Sir William to follow at his leisure. CHAPTER XVI Among those that crowded around the carriage of Robert Burns earlier in the evening, listening to his inspiring oration, stood a girl of twenty or thereabouts, whose pale, haggard face and tearful eyes attracted some passing attention from those near her. She was dressed in an ankle length skirt of gray, over which a red shawl had been tastefully draped. A black velvet bodice confined the loose white gimpe at the waist, while from her left shoulder a brilliant plaid hung gracefully to the bottom of her dress. Around her neck row upon row of different colored beads hung loosely to her waist. Upon the blue-black hair which fell around her face in waving masses, a wreath of white and pink heather was twined becomingly. Her unusual attire attracted much attention.