“Hurra! ’tis luck ye’re in, laddie,” shouted Souter in his ear. “The gentry have noticed ye. Ye should be dancing for joy, mon. I’m off to tell the lads of your good fortune,” and away he sped to the village, eager as any old gossip to spread the glorious news. “Isna it all like a dream, Mary?” sighed Mrs. Burns rapturously, leading the way into the house, followed by the two lovers, who entered hand in hand and seated themselves in blissful silence on the high-backed settle under the window, their favorite seat. For a few moments they sat motionless, regarding each other with moist eyes. It almost seemed too good to be true. In a few weeks perhaps Robert would be a great man, thought Mary proudly. “Weel, I always did have faith in Robert’s poetry,” suddenly declared Mrs. Burns with conviction. Robert smiled at his mother’s words. “They would all say that now,” he thought, but without bitterness, for it was only the way of the world after all. “Ye’ll soon hae riches noo,” said Mary happily. “Aye, then ye shall hae a fine new gown, and—and we will be married noo, instead of waiting,” answered Robert, taking her tenderly in his arms. “’Tis a bonnie, bonnie pair ye make,” said Mrs. Burns lovingly. “May God bless ye,” and she softly stole away, leaving them to their feast of love. [Illustration: “Slipped quickly behind an old beech tree.”] CHAPTER VII Jean left the house filled with terrified dismay. Robert going to marry another? then what would become of her? She would be disgraced and ruined. The thought drove her frantic. “He shall not marry her; he shall give me the protection of his name, for the time being at least,” she said to herself angrily. Afterward, the marriage could be easily annulled; she did not want him. She did not want to be tied for life to any farmer, not she. She would then return to Edinburgh. But suppose he would not consent to such an arrangement? Well she would scare him into it. He was as much to blame as she was anyway. She would not wait to write him after all; she would tell him now. There was nothing to fear. She would wait until the others had started, then come back and force her claim. If they went on without her, it did not matter much; it was not far to the Inn, she mused determinedly. She stopped in her rapid walk and retraced her steps. As she neared the cottage the door opened and her god-parents came out, and with them were Robert and the others. Before they could perceive her, however, she slipped quickly behind an old beech tree back of the well and nearest the house. Breathlessly, impatiently, she waited while they talked, and talked, till she thought they would never go. Then when the coach came and the attendant excitement of its departure, like a guilty creature she stole noiselessly across the intervening space to the cottage, slipped through the open door, and hid herself behind the fireplace, where Mary had concealed herself some weeks before.