He smiled quizzically into her face. “Rumor hath many tongues, fair lady, and most of them lying ones. The lady doesna’ suit my taste; even her money couldna’ tempt me, an’ I need the money badly. That will take her conceit down a peg I’ll warrant,” he thought grimly. “But she is very beautiful, I hear,” said Mary, filled with delight at his answer. “That I grant ye. Mistress Nancy is most adept in the use of the hare’s foot an’ of the paint box. I’ll wager she can teach even our incomparable actress, Mrs. Siddons, a few tricks in the art of makeup. Oh, but ye should see the lady in the early morning. ’Fore heaven, she resembles damaged goods!” Now would come the explosion of wounded pride and outraged dignity, he thought calmly, but his amazement was unbounded when the seeming Lady Nancy jumped up and down, ecstatically clapping her hands in a very undignified manner. “Ye seem o’er pleased at my remark,” he exclaimed with a puzzled frown. “I am, I am pleased!” she cried joyfully. “What?” he stammered taken aback—“why, I—I thought ye were——” He stopped, flushed and embarrassed. “Were Lady Nancy Gordon!” she finished. “O Lud, if I were, I wouldn’t feel complimented at all the flattering things I’ve heard!” and she went off in a peal of merry laughter. “Who are ye then, who comes to my chamber at night?” he asked curtly, chagrined at his mistake. She shook her head and laughed softly. “Ye shall know in good time,” she replied coquettishly. “I—I must make certain that ye dinna’ love—me.” She smiled, but her heart was beating wildly. “I love only one maiden, an’ I make her my wife within a week,” he answered with dignity. “An’ ye’ve no regrets for Lady Nancy, nor for Mrs. McLehose, nor—nor any o’ the grand ladies ye’ll be givin’ up to marry the little country maiden?” she asked softly, forgetting in her eagerness her lapse into her natural speech. “None, my lady,” he replied firmly. “Noo, lets call a truce to this masquerade! I am at a loss to understand your errand here to-night, but do not press ye for an explanation, and as I am due at the Duke of Athol’s, I must bid ye good-night.” He bowed coldly, and started to leave her. But with a cry of joy, which thrilled him to the heart, she drew near to him with outstretched arms. “Robbie, lad, canna’ ye guess who I am?” she cried. “I’m nae a grand lady at all, I’m only your Highland Mary.” With a quick movement, she tore off the mask from her flushed and radiant face and threw it far from her. “Mary, is it ye?” he gasped, almost speechless with surprise. He could scarcely believe his senses. This radiantly beautiful lady his Highland Mary? was such a metamorphosis possible? She made him a little courtesy. “Aye, ’tis Mary!” she answered, her heart beating fast with pleasure. Quickly she told him how she had come, why she had come, and how long she had waited, just to hear his words of approval. “Do I please ye, laddie?” she asked shyly.