With a sigh of impatience, Lady Glencairn took Mr. Mackenzie’s arm and silently they reëntered the drawing-room. They wended their way through the groups of people standing about, for the largest and most brilliant portion of the assemblage were standing, the sofas, ottomans, and chairs being occupied by the puffy old dowagers, who were entertaining each other with choice bits of scandal; and, finally, came to a standstill beside the grand piano. For a moment they remained quiet, listening to the glorious voice of Madame Urbani, who from the great drawing-room above was trilling forth an aria from grand opera. From her position Lady Glencairn commanded a good view of the large arch through which the guests entered the drawing-rooms. Anxiously she watched for the handsome face and curly black hair of the poet above the crowd that surrounded her. “Why does he not come? what can be detaining him?” she asked herself for the hundredth time. Perhaps he was with Lady Nancy Gordon, she thought jealously, looking about the vast room. She was sure she had not yet been announced. It looked very suspicious that neither she, nor Robert, had arrived. And her heart was consumed with bitter jealousy, although her smiling face bore no traces of the raging fire within. How she hated that doll-faced beauty for being single and free! How she would delight in trampling her in the dust, she thought cruelly. Nearly a month had elapsed since Robert left Edinburgh, since she had seen him. A month filled with vain longing and unrest. And since his return, she could scarcely restrain her intense longing to see him. Day after day she would drive slowly past his lodgings, hoping to catch a glimpse of his glowing, dark face, which had such power to thrill her to the very depths of her intense and passionate nature. That longing had taken possession of her to-night, when she had slipped out and stolen away to his rooms, and she would have willingly given her body and soul to him, for the asking; but her good angel had protected her from her own indiscretion, and saved her unsuspecting victim from a great remorse. The gurgling voice of Eppy McKay broke in abruptly on her disturbing revery. “Oh, dear, I wish Mr. Burns would come,” she said plaintively. “He is usually very punctual,” answered Lady Glencairn, opening her large fan of ostrich plumes and fanning herself indolently. “Genius is never governed by any rules of punctuality or propriety,” observed Mr. Mackenzie. “Then he is exempt,” replied her ladyship, smiling brightly. “Ah! you truant. Where have you been?” she demanded of her husband, who joined them at that moment. “Incidentally getting a breath of fresh air, my dear,” replied Lord Glencairn, smiling lovingly into his wife’s face. “But in reality, I was listening to the ovation which Robert was receiving as he drove through Princes Street.” Her eyes suddenly brightened.