’The present moment is our ain, The neist we never saw.’——" "That was a favourite quotation of old George Bethune’s," said the elder MacVittie, with a smile, to Vincent. The young man was startled out of a reverie. It was so strange for him to sit and hear conversation like this, and to imagine that George Bethune had joined in it, and no doubt led it, in former days, and that perhaps Maisrie had been permitted to listen. "Yes," he made answer, modestly; "and no man ever carried the spirit of it more completely into his daily life." "What makes ye think he is in New York, or in the United States, at least?" was the next question. "I can hardly say," said Vincent, "except that I knew he had many friends here." "If George Bethune is in New York," Tom MacVittie interposed, in his decisive way, "I’ll wager he’ll show up at Sutherland’s to-morrow night—I’ll wager my coat and hat!" And then the Editor put in a word. "If I thought that," said he, "I would go along to the Secretary, and see if I could have a ticket reserved for him. I’m going to ask Mr. Harris here to be my guest; for if he isn’t a Scotchman, at least he has been in Scotland since any of us were there." "And I hope you don’t need to be a Scotchman in order to have an admiration for Robert Burns," said Vincent; and with that appropriate remark the symposium broke up; for if MacVittie, MacVittie, and Hogg chose to enliven their brief mid-day meal with reminiscences of their native land and her poets, they were not in the habit of wasting much time or neglecting their business. A good part of the next day Vincent spent in the society of Hugh Anstruther; for in the stir and ferment then prevailing among the Scotch circles in New York, it was possible that George Bethune might be heard of at any moment; and, indeed, they paid one or two visits to Nassau-street, to ask of the Secretary of the Burns Society whether Mr. Bethune had not turned up in the company of some friend applying for an additional ticket. And in the meantime Vincent had frankly confessed to this new acquaintance what had brought him over to the United States. "Man, do ye think I could not guess that!" Hugh Anstruther exclaimed: he was having luncheon with Vincent at the latter’s hotel. "Here are you, a fresh-elected member of Parliament—and I dare say as proud as Punch in consequence; and within a measurable distance of your taking your place in the House, you leave England, and come away over to America to hunt up an old man and a young girl. Do I wonder?—I do not wonder. A bonnier lassie, a gentler creature, does not step the ground anywhere; ay, and of good birth and blood, too; though there may be something in that to account for George Bethune’s disappearance. A proud old deevil, ye see; and wilful; and always with those wild dreams of his of getting a great property——" "Well, but is there the slightest possibility of their ever getting that property?" Vincent interposed.