They talked over many plans and projects, but none seemed feasible, and they were about to give up in despair, when Henry Mackenzie was announced. He had just arrived from Ellisland, and immediately spoke of his visit to the poet, and under what painful conditions he had found him—told them of his promise to Burns to secure the office of supervisor for him, and had called to consult with his lordship concerning its bestowal. Nancy listened with bated breath and tear-dimmed eyes as he spoke of the change in Robert, his poverty, his indomitable courage and independence, in spite of the ravages of disease and the black, gloomy outlook for future prosperity. “Nancy and I were just discussing some means of alleviating his distress as you entered,” said the Duke as Mr. Mackenzie finished his recital. “And it affords me much gratification to be able to assist him to the office of supervisor of the excise and its attendant increase of salary.” “’Twill be a God-send to him, believe me, my lord,” returned Mr. Mackenzie feelingly. “The news will be dispatched to him at once!” cried Nancy with sparkling eyes. “’Twill relieve his present distress of mind.” With that assurance, Mr. Mackenzie rose, and thanking them for their kindness in behalf of the indigent poet, took his leave. Having finished luncheon, the old Duke excused himself, and going to his study, he made out the necessary papers of promotion for the struggling exciseman, with many a shake of his head and pitying sigh for the young genius who was reduced to such straits—driven to such a commonplace calling, through his headstrong recklessness, his foolish ideas of independence. Having signed them he sat back in thoughtful meditation. Suddenly the door opened, and his daughter asked permission to enter. Having gained it, she crossed to her father, and sinking down beside him, in an eager, impetuous manner quickly laid before him a project which had been formulating in her active brain while he was busy writing out the papers. He started back in amazement. “What!” he cried. “Are you out of your senses, Nancy?” “Now, papa, listen!” she exclaimed earnestly. “’Twill take but a day’s ride to reach Dumfries, and think how delighted he will be to receive the promotion from your hands,” and she slyly noted the effect of the bit of delicate flattery. He frowned and pursed his lips for a moment, and idly tapped the folded papers against his knee in thought. These signs boded success, as Nancy well knew, and springing to her feet she gave him a big hug that set him gasping.