“And,” continued Sir William vindictively, “there’s also a full account here which explains much of Mr. Burns’ reprehensible conduct here in town, as well as in Ayrshire, where it seems his amours were as numerous and questionable as they are at the present time.” “For shame, Creech!” cried Lord Glencairn with indignation. “How fascinating he must have been even when a farmer,” giggled Eppy aside to Mrs. Dunlop, who was casting indignant glances at Sir William. “’Tis a libelous article,” she flashed angrily, “and I for one do not believe a word of it. Robert,” she said, turning to the silent figure standing so pale and calm before his inquisitors, “deny this absurd charge before it is given further credence!” “He cannot deny it,” said Sir William. “His name is at the bottom of it,” and he held it up to their view. “And I’ll attempt no denial,” replied Robert in a full ringing voice, “for I know it would be useless. Know, then, that I do sympathize with the French people in their struggle for freedom, and I did help them all that lay in my power. I hope that France may gain the prize for which she is fighting, a free and independent republic, and that she may set up her standard of liberty and independence as did the United States of America, when they were delivered from the toils of the British.” There was an uncomfortable silence when he had finished his declaration. His amazed and incredulous listeners could hardly believe they had heard him aright. They looked aghast at each other, not knowing just how to take it. Their embarrassed silence was soon broken, however. “Ye hear those seditious sentiments,” cried Sir William in an I-told-you-so tone of voice. Lord Glencairn shook his head gravely. “’Tis dangerous to speak thus, Robert,” he said with solemn earnestness. “You should be careful——” “Careful of what?” interrupted Robert with impatient scorn. “Lest I offend people with my plain speaking of the truth?” He paused and looked around him with flashing eyes and dilated nostrils. “Who is careful of my feelings?” he demanded. “Not those who think themselves my superiors by accident of birth.” He turned to Sir William Creech and continued quickly, his voice vibrating with suppressed indignation. “I’ve never wronged ye, Sir William Creech, yet ye are miscreant enough to seek my ruin, for I’m fair sure ’twas ye yourself who inserted that scurrilous article in that paper ye hold in your hand, in which my faults, my past errors and follies are now being aired.” Sir William turned a sickly color. “Think what you like,” he muttered savagely. “’Tis time the people of Edinburgh knew the character of the man they are honoring.” “Sir William Creech, you are an old brute!” cried Eppy, her little gray eyes flashing fire, and going up to him she continued in haughty disdain, “Remember, sir, I will have naught to do with you in the future; I turn my back on you,” and she suited the action to the word.