Robert saw her leave Mauchline with no pangs of regret at her inconstancy and caprice. He was in a state of profound melancholy at the time, the thoughts of how he had fallen from the paths of truth and virtue, the thoughts of the pure love of his sweetheart at home, filling his heart with grief and remorse. He was thinking of all this as he approached the stile. How wretchedly weak and sinful he had been to forget his sworn vows to Mary, he thought remorsefully. “May no harping voice from that past ever come to disturb her peace of mind,” he prayed fervently. Jean watched him, drawing ever nearer, with eyes filled with sudden shame and dread at what she had to tell him. Why had her brief infatuation for the poverty-stricken farmer led her into such depths of imprudence and recklessness? she thought angrily. As he reached the bottom of the stile she softly spoke his name, and noted with chagrin his startled look of surprise and annoyance as he raised his eyes to hers. “Jean Armour?” he cried in amazement. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” she asked coquettishly, his presence exercising its old fascination for her. “What has brought ye to Mossgiel?” he asked abruptly, ignoring her outstretched hand. “An accident,” she replied flippantly. “I was on my way home and would have been there ere this had it not been for a fortunate mishap.” “Fortunate mishap?” he repeated questioningly. “Yes,” she retorted amiably, “otherwise I should have missed seeing you,” and she smiled down into his pale startled face. “I dinna understand why ye left Edinburgh,” he began, when she interrupted him. “Because I thought you were still in Mauchline,” she explained quickly. He look at her questioningly. “I left Edinburgh for the sole purpose of seeing you, Robert,” she announced quietly, making room for him to sit beside her, but he did not accept the invitation. “Well, noo, that was very kind of ye, Jean,” he replied a little uneasily. “But I’m not so conceited as to believe that. I ken the charms o’ Edinburgh town, with its handsome officers, soon made ye forget the quiet country village, and a’ your old flames, including your bashful humble servant,” and he made her a mocking bow. His tone of satirical raillery made her wince. “Forget?” she cried passionately, jumping to her feet. “I wish to heaven I might forget everything, but I cannot—I cannot.” The sudden thought of her predicament caused her haughty, rebellious spirit to quail, and covering her face with her hands, she burst into a paroxysm of tears and sank heavily down upon the step.