“Oh, no, no, impossible.” cried Lord Glencairn incredulously.
“And,” continued Sir William vindictively, “there’s also a full account here which explains much of Mr. Burns’ reprehensible conduct here in town, as well as in Ayrshire, where it seems his amours were as numerous and questionable as they are at the present time.”
“For shame, Creech!” cried Lord Glencairn with indignation.
“How fascinating he must have been even when a farmer,” giggled Eppy aside to Mrs. Dunlop, who was casting indignant glances at Sir William.
“’Tis a libelous article,” she flashed angrily, “and I for one do not believe a word of it. Robert,” she said, turning to the silent figure standing so pale and calm before his inquisitors, “deny this absurd charge before it is given further credence!”
“He cannot deny it,” said Sir William. “His name is at the bottom of it,” and he held it up to their view.
“And I’ll attempt no denial,” replied Robert in a full ringing voice, “for I know it would be useless. Know, then, that I do sympathize with the French people in their struggle for freedom, and I did help them all that lay in my power. I hope that France may gain the prize for which she is fighting, a free and independent republic, and that she may set up her standard of liberty and independence as did the United States of America, when they were delivered from the toils of the British.”
There was an uncomfortable silence when he had finished his declaration. His amazed and incredulous listeners could hardly believe they had heard him aright. They looked aghast at each other, not knowing just how to take it. Their embarrassed silence was soon broken, however.
“Ye hear those seditious sentiments,” cried Sir William in an I-told-you-so tone of voice.