“Then why not do as I advise? I know that when the keen edge of his grief has worn off he will willingly take you to his heart and by a church marriage make you his lawful wife,” and she threw her warm arm over the shoulders of the yielding girl.
Jean gave a nervous little laugh. “I vow, Lady Glencairn, I have not the courage to meet him now,” she said. “I—I thank you gratefully for your kindness. I—I know ’tis better to wait——” She paused and sighed dejectedly. “You’ll find me at the Star and Garter Inn in King’s Court,” she said quickly after a moment’s indecision. Then she drew her scarf hurriedly about her shoulders as if anxious to get away.
At that instant a laughing group of people came out on the balcony. Lady Glencairn hastily drew her back in the shadows. “Go, go quickly!” she whispered, “before you are seen.” With a panting word of thanks Jean glided through the bushes, and, skirting the patches of light, she soon reached the secret door through which she had so unceremoniously entered and passed out to the street now deserted, save for the motionless coachmen asleep on their boxes. Lady Glencairn breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Jean fade out of sight, swallowed up in the darkness. “Both out of the way now,” she murmured, a triumphant smile on her full crimson lips. She walked quickly toward the balcony. “What a contemptible creature I have become,” she thought with careless unconcern. “And all for love of a low-born peasant,” and she laughed derisively, as she mounted the steps. She slowly entered the drawing-room, feeling strangely nervous and guilty, to find a great many people going to supper. Robert had grown tired of the heat and glare and noise, and seeing Mary sitting so weary and wan looking, surrounded by a crowd of admirers who worshiped at the shrine of youth and beauty, he crossed quickly and whispered his wishes to her. She rose gladly and both advanced to bid their hostess farewell.
“Sorry you cannot remain longer,” said the Duchess with genuine cordiality. “You must bring Miss Campbell some afternoon to see me, Mr. Burns, when I am not receiving the public,” and with a pleasant smile she bade them good-night. Slowly they made their way through the crowd and met Lady Glencairn coming swiftly toward them.
As her eyes rested upon his happy countenance she knew that he was still in ignorance of Jean’s arrival in Edinburgh. “Won’t you have some supper?” she inquired brightly. “Don’t go yet.”
But Robert quietly insisted, as he perceived Mary’s increasing languor and pallor. So Lady Glencairn, with anger and disappointment gnawing at her heart, for she had hoped to show him the beauties of the garden by moonlight before he went, seeing that remonstrances were of no avail, bade them both an effusive good-night. “Don’t forget my garden party to-morrow,” she said with a patronizing smile, touching Mary’s cold hand lightly. “I shall expect you,” and she turned to greet her husband, who was approaching with Mr. Mackenzie.
“Thank ye, your ladyship,” answered Mary simply, making a little courtesy.
“Let me escort you to the carriage, Miss Campbell,” said Lord Glencairn, at once offering her his arm.
“And allow me to follow,” added Mr. Mackenzie, slipping his arm through Robert’s, to whom he whispered, “How dare you, sir, how dare you be such a provokingly happy man in this miserable old world?” Robert laughed, and they all walked slowly down to the carriage, conversing gayly on their way.